Todos os capítulos de Love Me, Loathe Me.: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

Morning arrives quietly, as though the island itself is careful not to startle her which is quite new. Sunlight slips into the room through the sheer curtains in pale gold ribbons, brushing across Mavis’s closed eyelids, warming her skin before she even opens her eyes.For a brief, fragile moment, she forgets where she is and is quite content with being comfortable on the bed with Nathan. There is no villa, no billionaire, no week-long bargain hanging over her head like a blade.There is just warmth.And rest.But there’s no Nathan, so the dream falls right through.She stretches beneath the crisp white sheets, toes curling, a small sound escaping her throat before she can stop it. It feels good—unnervingly good—to wake without the weight of panic sitting squarely on her chest. Her body aches faintly, not from fear, but from travel and unfamiliar beds and a night that ended with too many thoughts and not enough sleep.When she finally sits up, she realizes something else, something al

The request is delivered plainly, without command or cruelty, but the weight of it settles between them anyway. This is only a part of the deal, she knows that. Still, the way he says it, tired, almost worn thin, does something unexpected to her chest.She nods. “Alright.”He walks back into the house, his steps light enough to not make any sounds while she trails after him to the living room. He gestures to the space behind him when he eventually stops. “Here.”She steps behind the couch, sets her half full glass down on the table, and pauses again. He shifts slightly, giving her access to his shoulders, leaning forward just enough to make room.“Sit,” he adds quietly. He towers above her watching her, as he pulls the hem of his casual shirt and removes it. It goes right above his torso, abs and over his head. He flexes his shoulders before laying down for her to work easily. Shirtless Lance is still to die for, with every toned and perfect abs in place, no one would fault Mavis i

Leonard Bunker checks his phone again.He doesn’t mean to. The movement is automatic now, ingrained over years of habit and worry. His thumb drags down the screen, refreshing messages he already knows won’t change.Still there is just nothing.He exhales slowly and leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling of his house as though answers might be written there. The place is quiet, too quiet for a late afternoon in Atlanta, the kind of quiet that leaves too much room for thoughts to grow teeth.She’d said she’d be gone for a week, that part, at least, he remembers clearly.She’d sent him a video note while she stood in her kitchen, bag already slung over her shoulder, hair tied back, eyes too bright. She’d smiled, the kind of smile she uses when she doesn’t want questions.“I’ll be fine,” she’d said. “It’s just a week.”He hadn’t pushed and in hindsight, he realizes that he should have. But Mavis has always been like that, guarded when it matters most, fiercely private about an

Day five arrives quietly.Not with fireworks or tension or confrontation, but with something softer, something almost unfamiliar to Mavis now.Hope.It settles in slowly, unannounced, curling into the spaces she’s learned not to trust. The villa feels different today. Not smaller. Not larger. Just… lived in. The edges of her nerves have dulled. The constant awareness of Lance’s presence—where he is, what he’s doing, whether she’s doing the wrong thing—has faded into the background.Since that night on the terrace, things between them have shifted.Not dramatically nor openly.But enough.He doesn’t crowd her, doesn’t provoke her. Their conversations are brief but easier, less barbed. There’s no shouting, no biting words, no deliberate cruelty disguised as honesty. When he looks at her, it’s quieter now. Watchful in a way that feels less like control and more like restraint.It makes the days easier.And the time… faster.Day five means something very specific to her.Two days left.Tw

The villa grows quieter after lunch, settling into that languid afternoon stillness unique to islands, where time seems to slow simply because it can. Mavis retreats to her room with the excuse of resting, though rest is the last thing on her mind. Her body is tired in the pleasant way that comes from a full day lived well, but her thoughts refuse to follow suit, circling instead around everything this week has been and everything it is about to stop being.This is the last night.The realization presses against her chest as she lies back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant sound of waves breaking against the shore. Tomorrow morning, she will wake up here for the final time, pack her things, and leave this place behind with all its warmth, its indulgence, and its dangerous sense of unreality that she should not be e getting used to. By nightfall tomorrow, she will be home, holding Nathan, breathing him in, grounding herself again in the life she recognizes.S