جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 130

I looked up slowly.The man staring down at me was middle-aged, maybe fifty, with grey in his dark hair and a thick build. His expensive suit was splattered with champagne down the front.His face was red with rage."What the fuck is wrong with you, girl?" he spat in heavily accented English. "You have eyes? You have brain?"I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.Because nothing could."Look at this!" He gestured violently at his ruined suit. "Do you know how much this costs? More than you will earn in your pathetic life!"I took a step back, my hands still gripping the tray.Guests nearby had stopped talking. They were watching now."Sorry?" he demanded, stepping closer. "You don't even say sorry?"I shook my head frantically, trying to gesture—I can't, I can't speak—"Unbelievable," he snarled. "Shameless. Useless."My vision blurred.I dropped to my knees and started picking up the broken glass from the floor with shaking hands.I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.The words screa

His lips hovered above mine.So close.Too close.I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.Could only stare up at him with tear-filled eyes while my mind screamed.Then he closed the distance.His mouth pressed against mine.Hard. Demanding. Consuming.My eyes went wide, shock flooding through me.No.No, no, no—I tried to turn my head away but his hand tightened in my hair, holding me still.His lips moved against mine, claiming, possessing.I twisted my wrists violently, trying to pull them free from his grip above my head.His fingers tightened like iron, pinning me harder against the mattress.I pulled again, yanking with all my strength, my body arching up off the bed.Nothing.He held me effortlessly, his mouth never leaving mine.The kiss deepened.His tongue swept into my mouth, invading, taking.I made a sound—silent, strangled—trapped in my throat.I couldn't breathe.His mouth covered mine completely, his tongue demanding, his lips hot and relentless.Tears streamed down my face

Luna POVThe kitchen was loud with the clatter of pots and the sharp voices of staff preparing breakfast. I stood at the long wooden counter, waiting while the head cook arranged plates on a silver tray.Eggs. Toast. Sliced fruit. Coffee in a porcelain pot.My hands were already shaking before I even touched the tray.Last night kept replaying in my head. His mouth on mine. His hands holding me down. The rough desperation in his voice.You're driving me out of my fucking mind.I'd scrubbed my lips until they bled. But I could still feel him."Take it to the dining room," the cook said, pushing the tray toward me.I picked it up with both hands, gripping the edges to keep it steady. The weight made my arms tremble.I turned and walked toward the door, moving slowly to keep the dishes from sliding.The hallway outside the kitchen was quieter. My footsteps echoed off the marble as I headed toward the dining room.I wasn't paying attention. My mind was somewhere else. Somewhere dark.I tu

Killian POVThe mansion was silent when I returned.Three days away had felt like three weeks. Business in Moscow—territories shifting, alliances crumbling, power vacuums that needed filling before someone else did. The kind of work that required my physical presence, not a phone call.I walked through the main entrance, pulling off my coat and handing it to the staff member who appeared immediately. She took it without meeting my eyes and disappeared.I headed straight to my study.Marco was already there, standing by the window with a tablet in his hand. He turned when I entered."Boss."I walked to the desk and sat down, loosening my tie. "Report."Marco approached, setting the tablet on the desk. "Merotti is handled."I looked up. "How long?""Four hours. He was still alive when we started the message delivery.""And Dario?""Received the package this morning. Along with the note." Marco's expression didn't change. "He hasn't attempted contact since."Good."What else?" I asked.M

Luna's POVThe knock came just after sunset. One of the kitchen maids stood at my door, her face carefully blank."You're needed in the kitchen."I followed her down the corridor, my bare feet silent against the cold marble. The air felt heavier than usual, pressing down on my shoulders with each step.The kitchen was hot when I entered, loud with the clatter of pots and the sharp voices of staff preparing the evening meal. The head cook gestured toward a tray on the counter without looking at me, and I understood immediately what she meant.Dinner.My hands were already shaking before I even touched the tray. Grilled chicken with roasted vegetables, a bowl of soup, fresh bread still warm enough that I could smell the yeast rising off it.I picked up the tray with both hands, gripping the edges to keep it steady. The dishes rattled softly despite my best efforts, and I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat as I carried it through the empty corridor.The dining room doors were ope