Todos los capítulos de His Earthly Desire : Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 48

‎Johnson arrived at 8:17 p.m.‎‎On time.‎‎Of course he was.‎‎The elevator doors opened with their usual muted chime, and he stepped into the penthouse like he had a hundred times before — composed, hands in his coat pockets, expression neutral.‎‎He wasn’t expecting me in the study.‎‎He thought he was meeting only with Jayden.‎‎I saw it in the half-second delay when his eyes found mine.‎‎Not shock.‎‎Not fear.‎‎Calculation.‎‎Jayden stood near the windows, city lights carving sharp lines across his profile. He hadn’t turned around yet.‎‎“Johnson,” Jayden said calmly. “Thanks for coming.”‎‎“Your tone suggested it wasn’t optional,” Johnson replied lightly.‎‎He removed his coat and draped it over the chair without being invited to sit.‎‎He looked at me again.‎‎“You okay?”‎‎The familiarity of it made my stomach turn.‎‎I didn’t answer.‎‎Jayden finally turned.‎‎There was no anger in his face.‎‎Which somehow made everything heavier.‎‎“We traced the breac

‎The first thing I noticed was the quiet.‎‎Not the tense, brittle silence that had hovered over the penthouse for weeks. Not the kind that made my heart jump at every vibration of my phone.‎‎This quiet was… ordinary.‎‎The city hummed beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. A distant car horn. The faint rush of early traffic far below. The soft mechanical whisper of the air conditioner cycling on.‎‎Normal sounds.‎‎I lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the anxiety to follow.‎‎It didn’t.‎‎No unknown numbers.‎‎No new updates from the detectives.‎‎No sudden alarms from security.‎‎Johnson and Andrew were gone.‎‎Not arrested. Not found.‎‎Just gone.‎‎And for the first time since everything began, I wasn’t bracing myself for impact.‎‎I went to Jayden's room and climbed his bed. ‎‎Empty.‎‎The sheets were still warm.‎‎I pushed myself upright, slipping into one of his oversized shirts that hung over the back of the chair. It swallowed me whol

‎If peace had a scent, it would’ve been perfume and silk.‎‎The boutique was drenched in gold lighting and mirrors that made everything look more expensive than it already was. Mannequins stood like silent royalty, draped in gowns that whispered power.‎‎Malia walked ahead of me, her heels clicking sharply against polished marble.‎‎“You cannot show up in something safe,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “This isn’t a charity dinner. It’s a battlefield in couture.”‎‎I laughed lightly. “It’s a corporate anniversary.”‎‎“Exactly,” she replied. “Corporate wars are the most vicious.”‎‎She ran her fingers over a rack of gowns, pushing hangers aside with surgical focus.‎‎For the past three days, she had been unstoppable—calling designers, sending lookbooks, scheduling fittings. She’d taken control of the gala preparations with an enthusiasm I hadn’t expected.‎‎It was helpful.‎‎Almost too helpful.‎‎“Try this,” she said suddenly, pulling out a deep emerald gown with a str

The emerald gown no longer felt like certainty.‎‎It hung in the walk-in closet beneath soft lighting, its rich fabric catching the glow like it owned the room. Two days ago, it had represented strength. Poise. Readiness.‎‎Now, it felt like a question.‎‎“Are you sure about that color?”‎‎Malia’s voice drifted in from behind me.‎‎I turned slightly. She stood at the doorway of the closet, arms folded lightly, her expression thoughtful—not critical. Just… evaluating.‎‎“It’s elegant,” I replied.‎‎“It is.” She stepped closer, fingertips brushing the fabric with familiarity that made something tighten in my chest. “But elegant can disappear under heavy flash photography.”‎‎I frowned. “Disappear?”‎‎“Cameras wash out depth. You need contrast. Something sharper. More commanding.”‎‎I hadn’t thought about that.‎‎And now that she said it, doubt crept in.‎‎“I thought emerald was strong,” I murmured.‎‎“It’s beautiful,” she said gently. “But beautiful isn’t the same as unforg