Lahat ng Kabanata ng Craving my mother's Hot Fiancé : Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

~Melissa~Gavin’s expression didn’t change. He just sat there behind his massive desk, perfectly still except for one finger tapping against the polished wood. Once. Twice.Then he stood.The movement was slow. Controlled. Like a predator deciding whether to pounce or wait.I didn’t move. My feet felt glued to the floor.He walked around the desk, his eyes never leaving mine. Each step was measured, deliberate. By the time he stopped in front of me, my face was hot from all the breath I was holding.“You want to work in my office,” he said quietly.He tilted his head slightly. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking for?”The question hung between us. His eyes searched mine, something shifting in his expression that I couldn’t quite read.Then, unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth curved upward. As if he was trying to hold back a laugh.“Fine.” He reached for his phone not waiting for my response. “Marcus, come to my office.”I blinked. That was it? No argument?Thirty seconds later,

Lord Mateo Valdez POVThe smoke from my cigar curled toward the vaulted ceiling of the estate’s council room, dissipating into shadows cast by the crystal chandelier overhead. The room smelled of leather, aged whiskey, and the particular musk of men who wielded power over life and death.Five families. Five heads of empires built on blood and silence.And they all sat at my table.To my right, Giovanni Moretti Valdez leaned back in his chair, his rings catching the dim light as he swirled his brandy. The Italians controlled the ports from Miami to New York. To my left, Dmitri Volkov’s cold blue eyes tracked every movement in the room like a predator waiting for weakness. The Russians had their fingers in everything from weapons to politicians.Across from me sat Li jun, silent as always, his hands folded neatly on the polished mahogany. The Chinese syndicate moved product through channels the rest of us could only dream of accessing. And beside him, Rashid al-Hashimi, whose oil money

~Melissa~The bar was dimly lit, the wall was made with exposed brick and beautiful bulbs casting warm light across the polished wood. Jazz music played low in the background…giving the place an ethereal feel.I spotted Aria immediately.She sat at the bar in a dress that could only be described as a statement. Her metallic gold dress caught every flicker of light, with a plunging neckline and a slit up her thigh that was borderline illegal. Her purple hair was styled in loose waves that cascaded over one bare shoulder. With her red lips and Smokey eyes. She looked like she’d just stepped off a runway.“There’s my girl!” She waved me over, as her bracelet jangled on her wrist.I slid onto the stool beside her, suddenly very aware of my simple black jeans and cream sweater. “You look incredible.”“I know.” She struck a pose, laughing. “Figured if my life is going to shit, I might as well look good while it happens.”The bartender appeared…a guy in his twenties with tattooed forearms. H

~Melissa~“Do It, Daddy”His mouth was still on mine when the word slipped out again, softer this time. I didn’t know why but I felt more raw and vulnerable. Something about Gavin did that to me.“Daddy…”I moaned against his mouth. I expected him to be rough; instead he went perfectly, terrifyingly still.Then his eyes opened, the ice-blue turning almost black, and I felt the shift like a storm rolling in.His hand slid from my hair to my throat. He wasn’t squeezing it, although I wished he would, but it was just resting there, like a collar.“Say it again,” he whispered against my lips.My voice shook. “Daddy.” His groan was low, and reverent.He kissed me again, slower now, deeper, like he was tasting the word on my tongue.His free hand moved to my waist, fingers digging in, and he walked me backward until my spine met the glass wall.We were forty floors up. The entire city was glittering below us like spilled diamonds.He broke the kiss only to speak, his voice like rough velvet

Troy’s POV“For the love of God, she doesn’t live here anymore!”The man’s voice boomed from the doorway, his face red with frustration. He was stocky, mid-forties, wearing a stained t-shirt and gripping the door like he was ready to slam it in my face.“I just need to know where she went,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. Responsible. Like a concerned boyfriend and not a guy who’d been dumped in the most humiliating way possible.“I don’t know where she went!” He stepped forward, forcing me back. “I bought this house three months ago from the bank. Foreclosure. The family was already gone.”“But there has to be records…”“Kid, I’m a plumber who bought a foreclosed property. I don’t have forwarding addresses. I don’t even know their last names!” He was practically yelling now. “Now get the hell off my porch before I call the cops!”“Wait, please…”The door slammed in my face.I stood there for a moment, staring at the peeling paint on the door, my hands clenched into fists.This wa