Todos los capítulos de Straight Until Him: Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

Sandra’s POVI knock on the study door softly. “Can I come in?”My father’s voice drifts out, warm but tired. “It is your house, Sandra. Why do you need permission.”I step inside. He is behind his table, documents spread out all over like he is attempting to rebuild his domain one file at a time. “Still working?”“Trying to make myself useful.”“Retirement is not treating you well, huh?”He chuckles. “It is evident, not doing anything is not as relaxed as folks make it appear.”I step nearer and place my hands on the side of the table. “You know you do not have to work. I have got the company covered.”“That is precisely what bothers me.”I lift a brow. “Whoa, thanks for the faith.”He smiles faintly. “It is not that I doubt you, sweetheart. It is that I know how heavy that chair feels.”I breathe, grabbing the chair across him. “Yep, it is not as attractive as it seems. The board is polite to my face but waiting for me to mess up. Investors still side eye me when I walk in.”“That w

Micah’s POV“You are shaking.”“I am not shaking.”“Then what is that tremor in your hand?”“Excitement. Or caffeine. Hard to tell.”“Right. You have had, what, four cups already?”“Five. I am presenting a dream to the world, Alessandro. I deserve an espresso army behind me.”“You deserve sleep, not espresso.”“I will sleep when Novaré becomes a billion dollar empire.”“Then I will start buying you energy drinks by the crate.”“Romantic.”“Always.”“Okay,” I breathe out, straightening my blazer. “Does this look… CEO enough?”“More than enough. You look like someone who owns the room before stepping into it.”“Stop flattering me.”“Can’t help it. You glow when you are about to change the world.”“God, do not make me emotional before my speech.”“You will be fine. Remember, this is not the end of something; it is the start.”“Yeah.” I smile faintly. “The start.”“Mr. Romano!” flashes explode the moment Alessandro’s father walks in.I whisper, “He really came?”“Of course,” Alessandro sa

Micah’s POV“You are acting weird.”“I am not acting weird.”“You are definitely acting weird. You have checked your watch five times in the last minute.”“I like time.”“No one likes time that much. What are you hiding?”“Nothing. Why do you assume I am hiding something?”“Because your face looks guilty. Like you stole something.”“I did.”“Oh, really? What?”“Your heart.”“Stop. That is too smooth for a Saturday night.”“Fine. I just wanted to make you laugh.”“Mission accomplished. Now tell me why you are pacing.”“I was actually going to take you somewhere.”“Again? The last time you said that, I ended up in a pottery class surrounded by retirees.”“They loved you.”“They called me ‘sweet boy’ while criticizing my bowl.”“You made an ashtray.”“It was modern art.”“Right. Come on. You will like this place.”“I swear if it is yoga again…”“It is not yoga.”“Promise?”“Promise.”Fifteen minutes late“Micah… this is our building.”“I know.”“Why are we here at midnight?”“Because I n

Alessandro’s POVThe garden smells like white roses and fresh rain soaking the soil. Delicate petals glisten with tiny droplets, releasing a sweet, clean scent that fills the warm air. I can hear the soft buzz of the remote tune floating gently, but it is my heartbeat that is the loudest thing here, pounding crazy in my heart like a thump bouncing through the silent night, rapid and shaky with thrill.Sandra catches my eye from the front row. Her face is calm amid the buzzing crowd, and she mouths the word "breathe" slowly, deliberately, like a lifeline. I feel my chest tighten less, air slipping in easier, her steady gaze pulling me back from the edge of panic.Then I see him.Micah.He is walking down the aisle with his father beside him; calm, glowing, wearing that grin that always wrecks my composure. His steps are slow and sure, like he owns the moment. The lights catch his eyes, making them sparkle. My heart races; I grip my flowers tighter, trying not to stare too long. H

Micah’s POVThe morning smells like rain and roasted beans. Wet earth clings to the air, fresh and cool after the night shower. The street is quiet, puddles shining under grey sky. I breathe deep.We are walking down the rebuilt district; the same street that once looked like a graveyard for glass and dreams.Alessandro looks around, quiet for once.“Feels different,” he says.“It is lighter,” I tell him.“Like the city finally exhaled.”He nods. “We did too.”We stop near a street vendor. He buys roasted corn like he always does, peels it halfway, and hands it to me. “For you,” he says, voice low. I take it, our fingers brushing for a second. The vendor’s fire crackles nearby, smoke curling up into the evening air. The corn is hot, golden, kernels plump and sweet. “You are still doing that,” I say.“It is our thing now.”“You mean your way of bribing me into forgiving you for past crimes?”He laughs. “Worked, did it not?”“Barely.”We keep walking. There is laughter somewhere