All Chapters of His Playmate : Chapter 91 - Chapter 98

Julia's POVI did not have time to think. One moment I was curled on the couch, reading the horrible, simple sentence again because maybe staring at it long enough would make it rewrite itself into something less terrible, and the next moment the door crashed open and a man stepped inside wearing a mask, a gun held in his hand like it was a familiar thing he carried to bed, like he had carried it all his life. The sound that came from my throat was half scream and half prayer and it froze in my mouth the second he put one gloved finger to his lips and stared at me with eyes that burned behind the pale fabric. The room around us seemed to tilt and contract and stretch all at the same time, as if the mansion itself was holding its breath to see what would happen.“Shut up,” he mouthed. He didn't shout it. He did not have to. His voice was a low threat that vibrated down my spine. I stood like a statue while my brain tried to make sense of the sudden intrusion, of the paper still crumpl

Lucian's POV I left the office with my mind half on the business I had just settled and half on the city streets below. The night was quiet, almost too quiet, and I welcomed it. But my instincts never let me rest for long. That’s when I saw it. A man, clumsy and desperate, had a woman pressed against the wall, his hands roaming too far, his voice harsh and commanding. The way she flinched, the way her body stiffened under his weight—it made something in my chest twist. I didn’t know her, and yet for a split second I thought of Julia. Not her, not really, but her. The way she always tried to stay strong even when fear was written on her face. The thought made my pulse spike. I didn’t hesitate. I moved faster than anyone would have expected. By the time the man realized someone was behind him, it was too late. He swung at me, wide and clumsy, and I leaned back just enough to let his fist sail past. I barely registered the laugh that left my lips. The woman’s eyes were wide as sh

The moment I stood from the couch, my mind racing faster than my heartbeat, I realized I should leave. I should’ve walked straight out of his room the second I decided I had no business staying there. My feet shuffled toward the bathroom door, the soft carpet muted my steps, yet my pulse made every movement feel loud in my ears. My hands trembled slightly, my stomach twisted, and my chest felt tight as if I were holding in something I wasn’t supposed to even feel. I told myself over and over: I should go. I’m meant to leave. This isn’t safe. This isn’t…normal. But my legs didn’t carry me fast enough. I was almost there, my hand reaching for the edge of the bathroom door, when it swung open suddenly. Lucian stepped out, completely soaked from the shower, water dripping down the angles of his muscles. My feet slipped slightly on the smooth floor as I stumbled forward, and before I could even catch myself, I slammed against his chest. My arms instinctively wrapped around him to prevent

I pressed my hands against his broad shoulders, feeling the tension coil beneath my fingers like a living thing. Lucian’s skin was warm, and despite the bruises and fresh cuts, it felt smooth and almost soft under my touch. My heart hammered, betraying the calm I tried to maintain. I told myself to focus—this was a massage, nothing more—but every subtle shift of his body, the way his muscles flexed under my fingers, made it impossible to think straight. He leaned forward slightly, letting out a soft sigh that vibrated through his chest. It was a sound that belonged entirely to him, a mixture of exhaustion, relief, and something I couldn’t name. My hands moved instinctively, kneading and pressing, trying to loosen the tight knots I felt in his back. I was careful, tentative at first, unsure if I should go harder, but the way his body reacted under my touch encouraged me. “You have no idea how tense you are,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice even. I hoped he didn’t notice the slig