All Chapters of Talk to me nicely : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Johnson crept down the hallway like he had nothing better to do—which, honestly, he didn’t. He stopped outside Damon’s room and leaned toward the window, squinting inside. “Heyyy.” Damon glanced up from his laptop, unimpressed. “What do you want?” Johnson pushed the door open without waiting for permission. “I’m bored. If I knew your city was this dry, I wouldn’t have come.” Damon didn’t look up. “It’s not too late to leave.” Johnson dropped onto the edge of the bed dramatically. “Ugh. Maybe I should just go out with the girl I met yesterday.” Damon’s fingers paused over the keyboard. He sighed. “Don’t.” Johnson smirked. “Jealous?” Damon rolled his eyes, then leaned back in his chair, studying the ceiling for a second like he was weighing something. “You know what,” he said slowly. “I have an idea.” Johnson straightened. “I like the sound of that.” “Why don’t we go to the company,” Damon continued, already standing. “I want to see something.” Johnson’s brow li

After leaving Chelle’s place, Simon didn’t head straight to work.Instead, he turned the car toward the one place he’d been avoiding all week.Home.The house greeted him with laughter he didn’t recognize anymore.As soon as he stepped inside, the sound floated from the living room—high, girlish giggles. Lilian sat curled on the sofa beside Victoria, the two of them leaning over a glossy magazine spread across Lilian’s lap. Victoria covered her mouth as she laughed, pointing at something on the page.Simon paused in the doorway.“Wow,” Lilian said without looking up, her voice already sharp with sarcasm. “You finally remembered you have a mother. What a miracle.”Simon exhaled slowly and shut the door behind him. “Mom, I told you. I’ve been busy with work.”Lilian snapped the magazine shut and turned to him. “Busy doing what?” Her eyes narrowed. “Running after that witch?”“Mom,” Simon warned, his jaw tightening. “Please. Let’s not start this.”Before Lilian could respond, Victoria li

Few days after Daisy was discharged, the house slowly returned to its familiar rhythm—but something was off.Simon hadn’t called.Not once.Chelle tried not to read into it at first. People got busy. Feelings cooled. Phones died. She told herself all the reasonable things while pacing the living room, her phone warm in her palm from how often she’d checked it. Each missed call notification sat there like a quiet accusation.Maybe she’d said something wrong.Maybe he was still upset.Johnson came alone to pick Daisy up from the hospital. No jokes, no teasing commentary from Simon this time—just Johnson’s polite smile and a careful way of driving, like he didn’t want to jostle the fragile calm in the car. When they got home, the three of them carried in bags of medication, folded clothes, half-wilted flowers. They dropped everything in the living room, the space instantly cluttered with proof that Daisy had been sick and was finally back.The air felt heavy.“Ice cream?” Daisy said sudd

The faint steam from her bath still clung to the air as Victoria glided downstairs, the soft fabric of her silk robe whispering against her skin. Her heels clicked lightly on the marble floor, the sound precise and deliberate, a subtle rhythm that demanded attention. Mich, her private investigator, stood near the back patio, hands crossed, posture rigid, waiting like a soldier reporting to a general.Victoria poured herself a glass of champagne, the bubbles rising quickly, catching the golden light from the chandelier above. She swirled it in her glass, eyes narrowing slightly as she surveyed the garden outside. Mich shifted slightly under her gaze, though he didn’t move from his spot.“I hope I get something tangible today,” she said, voice soft but carrying the edge of expectation.“Absolutely, ma’am,” Mich replied, voice measured, professional.Victoria walked toward the patio, her robe slightly open at the chest, the silk catching the light. She perched herself on the wrought-iron

Daisy had just finished charting when her phone buzzed.Once.She glanced at the screen and sighed before answering.“I’m at work.”“Yeah. I know.” Johnson’s voice was easy. Smiling. “Come outside for a minute.”She paused. “Outside… outside?”“Front of the hospital.”Daisy pushed her chair back. “You’re unbelievable.”She slipped her phone into her pocket and headed out.The afternoon heat hit her first. Then she saw him—leaning against the hood of his car like he owned the place, sunglasses on, legs crossed at the ankles.Her lips curved despite herself.“You all need to stop showing up here unannounced.”Johnson tilted his head. “But you like it.”“I do,” she admitted, lowering her voice. “My senior doctors don’t.”He laughed softly. “I missed you, mon chéri.”Something in her chest loosened. She stepped closer, and he opened his arms without asking. She went into them easily, her cheek pressing against his shoulder. He held her a second longer than necessary.“Ugh,” she muttered.