All Chapters of Belonging to You: Chapter 21 - Chapter 29

Christian’s POVI hated being here.That was the first clear thought I had as I stepped out of the elevator and into the executive floor of Castillo Group. The air smelled like fresh paper, cologne, and tension—corporate tension—so thick I could choke on it.By nine in the morning, my head already throbbed.Miles, my assistant and perpetual thorn in my side, shadowed me with a tablet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.“You have a ten-thirty with Legal,” he said, barely taking a breath, “and a review call with the South American expansion team at noon. Then the quarterly projections meeting with Finance right after—”“Stop,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.“That wasn’t all,” he added. “You also have—”“Miles.”He shut up. For a whole three seconds.Then he said, “Your coffee has extra sugar.”I sighed. “Thank you. Now leave before I fire you.”He grinned. “Love you too, boss,” he said, and then he disappeared down the hall.I walked into my office, tossed my jac

The sun was high by the time I reached the Castillo estate, and the house was already humming with its usual rhythm. Chefs clattered pans in the kitchen. Gardeners trimmed hedges with crisp, clean snips. Staff glided through hallways with the sort of effortless coordination that only came from years of practice.Normally, I would have run into Christian somewhere by now—him grabbing a coffee, heading out for a morning workout, or scowling at his phone like it personally offended him.Today, nothing.No glimpse. No passing scent of his cologne. No infuriating, magnetic presence.Relief should have come first. Especially after the pool incident. Instead, an irritating tug of disappointment tightened in my chest.Not that I admitted that to myself. No. I shoved the feeling down, buried it somewhere under professionalism and common sense, and focused on work.By the time I finished Alberto’s morning care—vitals, medication check, confirming his schedule—my head felt clearer. I stepped int

Abigail’s POV In the days that followed, the Castillo house went from its usual quiet efficiency to full-blown, pre-vacation chaos. Staff moving luggage, decorators setting aside birthday props for Crew’s celebration, designers delivering last-minute outfits, chefs finalizing menus—everyone seemed to be preparing for something. Or everything.Meanwhile, I’d been away from the estate, packing and repacking in my tiny apartment like I was being sent to a foreign planet instead of Cancun for summer break. It didn’t matter how many times Alberto said, “Pack light, hija. You won’t need much,” because billionaires saying light was still three wardrobes more than anything I owned.When one of the Castillo drivers pulled up outside my building to take me to the airport, I almost laughed at how absurd the contrast was—my fraying suitcase, his immaculate car, and me in the middle trying not to sweat through my shirt.By the time we reached the private airport, it fully hit me again—the Castil

Abigail’s POV Dinner was nothing like I expected.The table alone could have fed a small country. White stone, polished wood, flickering candlelight, servers moving in and out with practiced ease. The ocean breathed somewhere beyond the glass walls, waves rolling in like they had nothing better to do than exist beautifully.I sat among billionaires, holding my fork like it might betray me.Christian sat across from me.I told myself not to look at him. I told myself that whatever existed between us had already crossed enough lines. But my body ignored every single instruction. Awareness buzzed through me like lightning skittering through my veins, hot and uninvited.Every time he shifted in his chair, every time his fingers curled around his glass, slow and deliberate, I felt it like a pull under my skin.He hadn’t said a word since we’d taken our seats. Not to me. Not to anyone.Lola leaned over to me, completely oblivious. “You should’ve seen Crew’s face when he realized there’s a