No Saints in My Bed のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

Angelo I leaned against the cold stone of the cell, watching her collapse. My chest tightened. I’d spent years hardened to this life, but seeing her huddled on that wooden frame, wrapped in a robe that was too big for her, made the anger from her betrayal disappear. Her father was a terrible man. I had always known it, but she was only just finding out. I walked over and sat on the edge of the frame. She flinched, pulling away, her face red and wet with tears. “Don’t,” she choked out. I didn’t listen. I reached out, my hand steady as I gripped her shoulder and pulled her toward me. She resisted for a second before she slumped against my chest, her forehead resting against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her, feeling the frantic beating of her heart against my ribs. “They’re gone, Luce,” I murmured, my hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head. “Forget them. They don’t deserve the air you’re wasting on these tears.” “He’s my father,” she sobbed into my shirt. “How coul

LuceThe loud buzz of the vibrator was still ringing in my ears even after he clicked it off. The silence that followed was loud.I lowered my head, my cheek pressed into the silk sheets. My breathing was ragged. I was done—not just tired. I was completely worn out. Every defense I’d built, every bit of spite I’d used to shield myself from him, had evaporated.I heard the bed creak as he shifted. He didn’t touch me yet. He was just there, a massive, silent presence hovering behind me. I could feel his eyes on me, tracing the marks he’d left, savoring the wreck he’d made.I didn’t wait for him to command me. I forced my body to move, despite the ache in my joints and the sharp pull of the nipple clamps. I dragged myself toward him until I was in front of him, right at his knees. My wrists were still bound, my hands useless, but I lowered my head.“Angelo,” I whispered. My voice sounded distant, even to me.“Look at me, Luce.”I lifted my head. My hair was a matted nest around my face,

GenevieveI stood there, the air in the room suddenly feeling nonexistent. My chest heaved. Beads of perspiration formed on my head despite the functioning air conditioning in the office. I looked at Arthur—my "Uncle" Artie—and for the first time in twenty years, I didn't recognize the man sitting across from me. He had become a completely different person."Uncle Artie, please forgive me," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I don't know why… I can't…" I stuttered. "It was a mistake. A one-time thing, I swear!" I lied through my teeth. "It won't happen again. You can't tell my dad. He shouldn't know of any of this. You know what he'll do. He'll disown me. He'll kill me."He didn't blink. He just tapped his phone against his palm, the device containing the video that would end my life as I knew it. "Richard trusts me, Genevieve. He trusts me to look out for his little girl. And what do I find? I find you on a stage, selling yourself to strangers for a few hundred dollars.""It's not like

GenevieveThe car arrived at exactly 8:00 PM. I had spent the last three days staring at my phone, waiting for a message that never came, only to have a black sedan pull into my driveway without a single heads-up. It was typical Arthur. He didn’t need to check if I was ready; he knew I didn’t have a choice.I climbed into the back seat. The driver didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at him. My heart was doing the same frantic thudding it had at the gala, but this time the fear was drowned out by a restless, gnawing curiosity.I had replayed several possible scenarios of how our meeting would go, and all of those scenes left me hot and bothered. No, there wasn’t any feeling of dread or fear; I found myself even anticipating it.I had dressed in a simple black dress, nothing like the red silk from the gala, and a trench coat. I wanted to look like I hadn’t tried, even though I’d spent an hour in front of the mirror wondering what he wanted to see.I curled my hair to perfection, applie

GenevieveI spent the day at the office with the black lace set clinging delicately to my body, just as Arthur ordered. Every time my father smiled at me across the conference table, the friction of the fabric reminded me of the closet and the man sitting at the head of the room. Arthur didn’t even look at me, but I knew he was aware. When I wasn’t looking, he kept stealing glances at me.The dynamic shifted when Marcus joined us for the afternoon strategy session. Marcus was a rising star in the acquisitions department, young, sharp, and clearly not intimidated by the Sterling or Jacobson names.During the meeting, he kept leaning into my space, pointing out figures on my tablet with a grin plastered on his face. I didn’t miss the stare that lingered too long.“You have a real eye for the risk-assessment side, Genevieve,” Marcus said, his voice loud enough for the whole room to hear. “I’m heading to that gallery opening tonight. You should come. I think you’d find the ‘aggressive’ st