جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 250

Irene“I have a request.”I blinked, slowly pulling my head back to look at him. His hands were still to my waist, his thumbs drawing slow, distracting circles against my silk blouse."A request?" I repeated in suspicion. "Usually, requests made right after a kiss like that involve a second date or maybe sharing dessert. They don't usually sound so… tactical.""I am a tactical man." Romeo murmured. “What is it?” I narrowed my eyes."I need you to pack a bag tonight. You are moving into Dante’s penthouse."I stared at him for three full seconds, waiting for the explanation. When his expression remained deadpan and deadly serious, I pushed against his chest, breaking out of his hold and taking a step back."I am sorry, what?" I asked in sheer disbelief. "Move into your brother's penthouse?""I know you care deeply about Alessia. I know you want it too but you didn't do it to avoid me." Romeo picked up his crystal flute. "And Dante's penthouse is the most structurally sound, guarded pi

IreneThe reflective glass doors of the elevator slid shut with a soft hiss, swallowing Romeo’s smug, perfectly tailored silhouette whole.For a long second, I just stood there, staring at my own reflection. Pale. Slightly disheveled. Like I had been ripped out of a low-budget indie film and dropped into the pages of a luxury design magazine.“Privileged parasite?”I jumped, my heart giving a sharp, embarrassing jolt.Alessia stood a few steps behind me, hands planted on her hips, her head tilted in that sharp, observant way that meant she was already halfway to figuring out exactly what lie I was about to tell.She looked… radiant.It was unfair, really. The kind of glowing, effortless beauty that didn’t belong to someone technically being held inside a marble fortress. The silk slip dress she wore skimmed over the soft, unmistakable curve of her stomach.There was no hiding it anymore.The pregnancy wasn’t something you could disguise with loose fabric or clever posture. It was real

Irene“I counted them, Les. There are exactly fourteen pillows on this bed.”I sat cross-legged in the center of the enormous mattress, tossing one of the absurdly expensive silk throw pillows into the air before catching it again. The bed was so soft it barely felt real, more like sinking into a cloud engineered specifically for wealthy people with stress disorders.Across from me, Alessia lounged against the mountain of cushions with her bare feet tucked beneath her silk dress, a bowl of half-eaten truffle risotto balanced precariously on the nightstand beside her.The second we shut the heavy oak doors to the East Suite behind us, the suffocating tension from the rest of the penthouse had finally loosened. Out there, every hallway felt cold and polished and watched. But in here, with the lights dimmed and our shoes abandoned somewhere near the door, Alessia looked less like the guarded queen of a criminal empire and more like my best friend again.Granted, she was still wrapped in

RomeoThe Porsche’s cabin was a masterpiece of engineered silence.No vibration. No engine growl. No city noise bleeding through the reinforced glass. Just the low ambient hum of a machine so expensive it could imitate peace.I stared at the illuminated screen of my phone for a long, motionless moment after the message sent.Sleep well, Irene.The dashboard glow reflected faintly against the window beside me, catching the sharp edge of my own expression. By every logical metric, I should have been reviewing surgical charts inside Saint Romano Hospital or enduring another insufferable gala with the hospital board.Instead, I was parked illegally in a narrow alleyway behind the media district, functioning as a highly lethal security system for an overworked administrative assistant with chronic insomnia and terrible taste in instant coffee.I locked the phone.The screen went black.I slipped it carefully into the inner pocket of my suit jacket.My pulse remained perfectly steady. Sixty

RomeoThe Porsche’s cabin was a masterpiece of engineered silence.No vibration. No engine growl. No city noise bleeding through the reinforced glass. Just the low ambient hum of a machine so expensive it could imitate peace.I stared at the illuminated screen of my phone for a long, motionless moment after the message sent.Sleep well, Irene.The dashboard glow reflected faintly against the window beside me, catching the sharp edge of my own expression. By every logical metric, I should have been reviewing surgical charts inside Saint Romano Hospital or enduring another insufferable gala with the hospital board.Instead, I was parked illegally in a narrow alleyway behind the media district, functioning as a highly lethal security system for an overworked administrative assistant with chronic insomnia and terrible taste in instant coffee.I locked the phone.The screen went black.I slipped it carefully into the inner pocket of my suit jacket.My pulse remained perfectly steady. Sixty