All Chapters of Craving Forbidden Pleasures : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

I stared at the closet like it was a battlefield. What to wear? Red? Too obvious. Black? Too somber. White? Too bridal. Then I saw it: silk, emerald green, hugging my curves, low at the back, teasing at the front—just enough to tempt a second glance. Max hated it. He felt it was too clingy and exposed lots of flesh. Perfect. Julian would get it.I put on my heels. Heels added height, My hair was pinned up with strands framing my collarbone. The slit on my dress whispered promises up my thigh. The doorbell rang at exactly eight. I didn’t rush. I didn’t smile. I didn’t hesitate. But anticipation filled my entire being. Julian leaned against the frame, a bottle of wine dangling from two fingers. His eyes roamed me. “You wore it,” he said, voice thick. “You asked,” I said, stepping aside. “Come in.” He brushed my arm as he passed. Heat radiated off him. Black shirt, sleeves rolled, veins taut along his forearms. I swallowed. He paused by the table—candles lit, pasta fresh from scr

My knees shook as I walked from the guest room to the bedroom I shared with Max. It took four attempts to lock the door. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone like it might explode. The anonymous message glared back: He’s not the only one who saw you last night. The photo was vivid—Julian tangled in my hair, my shoulder bare, my face leaving no room for ambiguity. Someone had watched. Recorded. Threatened. Scrolling through the thread, there was nothing—no name, no hint of motive, no ransom. Not yet. Julian appeared, wordless, jaw tight. His presence made the tension worse. “I got a text,” I said. His gaze snapped to me. “I know.” “You got one too?” “No,” he said. “But I checked the cameras. Someone was outside the window last night.” My skin chilled. “You saw them?” “A figure. Blurred. Probably male. Not just walking by. They waited for us.” I stared at my phone. Someone had planned this. Julian dragged a hand through his hair. “I’ll handle it",

The city lights stretched below me like spilled gold and glass as I stepped out of the elevator onto the forty-third floor. My pulse drummed a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Every instinct screamed that this meeting—this “arrangement”—was dangerous. And yet, I walked forward, heels clicking like gunshots against the polished marble floor.Julian had insisted that I meet with her again and go over our conversation once more. I didn't know the use of it but I wanted to trust him. The Bait was to tell her that I wanted us to go over everything once more. This was what I did abd she agreed to meet with me again. Either she was desperate for what she asked for or she was foolish and I knew it was not the later. The suite door was already ajar. Inside, the faint scent of expensive perfume mingled with the cool air-conditioning. I paused at the threshold, heart stuttering as I glanced around. Nobody. Not yet.Then she appeared. Blonde, elegant, lethal. The woman from last night—the blackma

The city skyline looked impossibly serene from the guesthouse balcony, the early evening sun painting the glass towers gold. Yet serenity was a lie. Every shadow seemed sharper, every sound magnified, like the world itself was conspiring against me.Julian had been pacing the house all afternoon, moving with that predatory precision that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. He hadn’t spoken much, only issuing terse updates about his investigation into the blackmailer. But every glance he threw my way carried that familiar mix of command and desire that had me simultaneously trembling and burning from the inside.I tried to busy myself in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, making notes, keeping my hands moving to stop them from trembling. But every sound—a car door slamming, a distant siren, a knock on the guesthouse door—made my heart leap. My mind replayed the messages, the photos, the USB, every violation of our privacy. Someone knew. Someone had been there. Someone could stil

Third Person POVThe house felt smaller than usual, claustrophobic even, as if the walls themselves were watching. Elena moved through the rooms like a ghost, every creak of the floorboards underfoot making her jump. She couldn’t escape the buzzing in her pocket, though she had tried. Julian had told her to stay off her phone, but the messages kept coming, dripping like poison into her mind. Every vibration, every alert made her pulse spike. She entered the living room and froze. Julian was there, leaning against the marble fireplace, his shirt sleeves rolled up, hands tucked into his pockets, jaw tight. The firelight danced across his features, making him look more dangerous than ever. More irresistible. “They sent another one,” he said, voice low, almost reverent with anger. Elena held up her phone. A new message. Another photo. This time it was clearer than before—taken from a different angle, showing her and Julian leaving the guesthouse late at night, the sheets tangled around