The Billionaire Who Bought Me The Moon のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

"The truck is best, that's what we're going with." Davies pressed, hissing under his breath to another bodyguard. "But protocol says..." he argued "That's enough from you, it's already on its way so none of your 'concerns' matter anymore here." He frowned deeply, "It's unprofessional to argue in front of our employers, do not do anything else that will ruin our reputation any more than it already is." Everything had gone to shit. Samantha did not understand how a single day could unravel so quickly. Only hours ago she had been standing in a white hallway, hugging her mother and father, pretending everything was fine while they tearfully saw her off. Before that, she had been smiling politely through the world's most awkward interview while fighting back shame, anger and tears. And now she stood across from what used to be her car; now a twisted, smoking frame of metal, and waited for the entire football team of bodyguards to finish arguing back and forth about how to transport

Of all the things she thought he would say, she definitely wasn't expecting that at all. Samantha's ragged breaths as Jason's words hung heavy in the air. She could feel the heat radiating from him, his anger a palpable force, yet there was something else too. A primal intensity that made her heart pound in her chest. "Jason, wait," she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet it seemed to fuel his fire. "You're not the only one who has something to be mad about, you know?" He grabbed the hem of her pants, tearing it open with a force that sent buttons flying across the marble floor. The cool air kissed her skin, and she gasped, her eyes widening as she watched him, this man unravelling before her. "And what exactly do you have to be angry about?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Well, for one", she grunted with the effort of trying to twist out of his tight grip, "You threatened my employer, and now I'm sure he hates me." Jason paused, the anger still obvious in h

Samantha's legs were still unsteady, and her pulse was all over the place as she tried to gather the scraps of her dignity so she could speak like a normal human being again. She had every intention of getting up, marching back to her room, and proving she wasn’t some delicate thing that needed to be leashed to his bedside. But Jason stood in front of her, his hair a little messy from the time they'd just spent together, eyes fixed on her face like he was watching every bit of discomfort she showed. He hadn’t moved an inch since he’d dragged her here and set her down. And she could tell, even without him saying anything, that he wasn’t done with her at all. She cleared her throat, pushing herself up straighter. “Jason, listen. I know you think this is a good idea, moving me in here, but it’s not. It’s… impractical. And weird. And a little controlling.” He didn’t reply, didn’t even blink. “So,” she continued, pacing in front of him, “I have most of my things in my room. My teles

The bath had gone quiet. Only the faint drip of water from her hair broke the stillness as Jason finished rinsing the last trace of soap from her curls. When Samantha finally stepped out of the tub, wrapped in a thick towel he handed her without a word, she felt tired and wrung out. He left her only long enough for her to dry off and slip into the silk pyjamas someone had set on the marble bench for her to wear. They were soft, loose, and far too expensive for something meant to be slept in. The top hung off one shoulder, brushing the fresh marks on her skin. By the time she padded back into his bedroom, her hair damp and clinging to her neck, Jason was already there. For whatever reason, this time he didn't go to his study to work until early morning; instead, he stayed with her in his bedroom, sitting at a sleek, low writing desk positioned near the windows, something she had barely noticed before because she had never been inside this room long enough to look. His laptop glowe

Jason Hale stepped out of the sleek black car and into the morning wind, colder and brighter than he expected. The sunlight stabbed his eyes and he squinted for half a second before adjusting. He was late. He was never late. The realisation irritated him, though not as much as the memory of why. Samantha. The moment he woke up, full daylight had already flooded the room, across her sleeping body, across his own. His arm had been wrapped around her waist like a vice, holding her there as if his body refused to let her go. Something primal. Something he didn’t recognise in himself. What's worse, he had been asleep. Deep, heavy, unmoving sleep. He never slept in years, because why waste time sleeping when he could spend it working and plotting his takeover, deciding how best to use Samantha to achieve it. He usually drifted for an hour or two at most, his mind racing as he planned and calculated, always half out of bed to reach his laptop and continue working. But last night… He’