Semua Bab The Stranger My Heart Belonged To: Bab 11 - Bab 20

SADIE’S POV“Just for you to be more aware of yourself.”The words landed like a door slamming shut behind me.I blinked. Once. Twice.I didn’t understand what he meant.But I felt it.The way his eyes stayed on me—not cold, not warm, just... calculating. Like he was reading something I didn’t know I’d written.I wanted to ask.But I didn’t dare.Because under his voice—so calm, so lethal—I heard something else.Possession.It made no sense, but I felt it crawl up the back of my neck like heat.Felt it settle somewhere low in my stomach. Dangerous. Twisting.I swallowed.Nodded.And turned to leave, heart pounding against my ribs like it had something to confess.I didn’t know what I’d done wrong.But part of me—a part I wasn’t ready to name—hoped I’d do it again.The Next MorningSADIE'S POVThere was still a heat humming beneath my skin.A restless, stubborn thrum, like my body remembered something it couldn’t name.Something about his voice.The way he had looked at me—as if I were

DAMON’S POVI packed my laptop into the leather case with more force than necessary, the zipper growling under my hand.The clock on the wall mocked me—still hours to go before the damn meeting.I needed the distraction.Anything to stop the replay in my head.Sadie.The hurt flickering across her face when she saw us.The way she fled like she’d been shot straight through the heart, while Bella couldn’t care less. Like nothing even happened. She’s been out shopping sinceI ground my teeth and hit the intercom.“Sadie. In my office.”A few moments later, I heard her steps—quieter than usual, hesitant.When the door creaked open, I looked up—and forgot how to breathe.She stood there, holding a damp cloth in one hand, her blouse still stained from the juice spill.Only now the wetness had turned the fabric nearly sheer.And through it, delicate lace kissed her skin—taunting, haunting.I gripped the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles went white.She didn’t even seem to notice.Didn’t r

DAMON'S POVThe driver eased the car to a stop, sliding into the space beside a familiar red Maserati Quattroporte.Bella’s car.A muscle ticked in my jaw the second I spotted Sadie standing there—alone—by the car.Her right hand was full, clutching a mess of garment bags, balancing awkwardly.My teeth ground together.Of course Bella would make her carry everything. Like Sadie was her personal servant. Like she was nothing.I stepped out of the car, intent on pulling Sadie away before Bella could issue another one of her damn commands.But as I crossed the distance, something twisted inside me—Sadie’s face was wet.Tears.Tears sliding down her cheeks.I moved faster, heart slamming against my ribs, and then I saw it—her hand—trapped, caught between the door and the frame of Bella’s car.Fucking hell.“Sadie,” I barked, reaching for the door handle—Locked.Rage blackened the edges of my vision.I stripped off my jacket, wrapped it tightly around my fist, the adrenaline deafening.

DAMON’S POVI pushed the bottle of water and a couple of energy bars across the desk toward her.“So... the truth?” I said, my voice low but leaving no room for escape.Sadie hesitated. Her fingers curled against the edge of the chair, knuckles white.“...It’s a long story...” she whispered, almost too soft to hear.She glanced quickly at her watch, her lashes trembling. “And I’m willing to answer your questions, it’s just—the 6 PM meeting, Sir...”I leaned back slightly, letting out a slow breath.“I’ll have someone cancel it,” I said flatly.Then, sharper, before she could find another excuse to slip through, “If you don’t answer me, the only thing you’ll be doing is going home, eating something, and getting some damn rest.”Her head jerked up, shock flashing across her face, wide and unguarded. She looked so lost—like she didn’t know how to react to kindness, didn’t know whether to trust it.I closed my eyes briefly, fighting for control, fighting the burning, reckless thing clawi

SADIE'S POVThe city hadn’t even fully woken up yet, but there I was—hair still damp from a rushed shower, clutching my tote bag like it could anchor me to the earth, standing in line at DeVine’s, the fancy brunch place Damon liked.Trying not to think about yesterday’s sorrow.But grief had a way of clinging—like steam on glass or the ache in a cold bruise.I focused on the polished counter ahead. The clink of cups. The shuffle of designer shoes against marble.Three breakfast sets. No substitutions. His rules.The air inside smelled like truffle butter and quiet judgment. Polished men in thousand-dollar suits read their emails like scripture. Women with sleek buns and perfect nails clicked through their phones, pretending not to notice anyone—but noticing everything.I stepped up and made the order. “Three truffle eggs with smoked mushroom and croissant combo. Takeaway, please.”The barista nodded, all efficiency and zero warmth, and rang it up.Behind me, a voice. Older, gentle, li