บททั้งหมดของ Belonging to You: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Christian’s POV“Tell me I’m hallucinating,” Miles’ voice cut through the line the second I picked up. “Tell me you didn’t just leave Chicago when we were this close to closing the Harrington deal.”I stepped into the kitchen and shut the door halfway so it wouldn’t carry. Abigail had just drifted off.“Good morning to you too, Miles.”“I’m serious.” A sharp breath crackled through the speaker. “Contracts were drafted. They were ready. And then I turn around and your jet is gone.”I leaned against the counter and stared at the darkened living room beyond the doorway.“I didn’t walk away,” I said. “I postponed.”“You vanished. There’s a difference.”Silence settled.Then, quieter, “Was it her?”My jaw tightened.“Handle the paperwork,” I replied. “I’ll deal with Harrington personally.”Another long exhale. “You don’t walk away from a three-month negotiation for nothing.”“I don’t.”A pause.“You’re impossible.”“And yet,” I said calmly, “you still work for me.”“Unfortunately.” A beat.

Christian’s POV The doorbell shattered the moment. I glanced at Abigail, still perched at the island in my shirt, her legs bare and crossed, that faint flush creeping up her neck under my stare. She shook her head—no one expected. Irritation flickered through me. Who the hell interrupted this? We’d barely scraped the surface of whatever this morning was becoming.I moved before she could, striding to the door in just my pants. No time to grab a shirt. If it was a delivery or some neighbor, they’d deal with it. I swung it open, ready to dismiss whoever it was.The man on the other side froze, his eyes widening like I’d just pulled a gun. He was holding a bouquet of wildflowers—daisies, maybe—and a paper bag that smelled faintly of chicken soup and pharmacy.Average build, clean-cut, the kind of guy who looked harmless until you caught the way his jaw tightened. He looked oddly familiar.“Trevor?” Abigail’s voice carried from behind me, surprised but warm.His gaze dropped from my fa

Abigail’s POVWarm hands wrapped around me.I should have stepped away. Said something sensible. Something firm that reminded both of us this was a terrible idea.That he wanted safe. Surface. No promises.He had said so himself.Instead I stood under the shower spray, heart thudding so loudly I could hear it over the water.My heart wanted more.And Christian wasn’t a man who could give me more.I knew that.I should end this.But when the bathroom door had creaked open a minute ago and he stepped into my tiny shower room, tall and quiet and very much not leaving, my heart had given a stupid, hopeful thud.Oh my stupid, stupid heart.It would never learn.Warm water slid down my shoulders as steam curled around us, turning the small room hazy. I hadn’t turned around yet.I couldn’t.I felt him behind me. Close.His breath brushed the back of my neck.“Christian…” My voice came out thinner than I intended.He didn’t answer.Warm fingers slid around my waist instead. Slow. Careful. Lik

Christian’s POV Abigail was fine now. Back on her feet. Back to the quiet rhythm of her days—caring for Abuelo, gliding through the estate’s marble halls like she had always belonged in them.That didn’t stop us.It didn’t even slow us down.Mindless, senseless fucks in the shadowed corners of the Castillo estate—her skirt hiked around her waist, my hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the sounds she couldn’t hold back. In my office after hours, her bent over the desk, papers scattered, my grip bruising her hips while she whispered my name like a prayer. At her place, slow and brutal on her couch, her nails raking down my back until I bled, until we both forgot how to breathe.Every time was better than the last. Every time I thought I’d finally had enough of her—of the way she arched, the way she broke, the way she looked at me like I was something worth keeping—I was wrong. She always showed me more. Always gave more. Always took more.God help me, she was addictive.And I was

Abigail’s POV Rain tapped softly against the windows.Steady. Gentle.The lights in the bedroom were dim, casting everything in a warm amber glow. The world outside felt distant, like it belonged to someone else entirely.Here, in this quiet little bubble, everything felt… perfect.Safe. Untouchable.I lay sprawled across Christian’s chest, my cheek resting against the steady rise and fall of his breathing.His fingers played lazily with the ends of my hair, twisting loose strands, letting them slip through his knuckles. His other hand traced slow, absent circles on my bare back—big, warm palm gliding over skin still flushed and sensitive from earlier.The movement was absentminded.Gentle.So very un-Christian-like.And yet he’d been doing it for the last ten minutes.I wasn’t about to complain.I closed my eyes and let myself sink into it.Outside, the rain continued its soft rhythm. Inside, the only sound was our breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets when one of us shifted