All Chapters of Craved By My Fiance's Brother (An Erotic Billionaire Romance: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

By the time I drive into the parking garage under his luxury building, my heart is beating very fast against my ribs. I turn off the car engine, and the sudden silence inside it feels even heavier than the silence in my bedroom. I just sit there for a minute, holding the steering wheel tightly with both hands, staring blankly through the glass at the wall in front of me.What the hell am I really doing? This is a really bad idea. Maybe I should put the car in reverse and leave before I make a total fool of myself. Maybe...No. I am already here. I did not drive all this way just to chicken out and leave in the parking lot. I am not going back to my empty apartment without getting some real answers first.I grab my keys and get out of the car into the cool air of the garage before my brain can change my mind.I start walking slowly toward the building entrance. I look around at the familiar place, and for a moment, my anger fades away. Before I even realize that I have stopped walki

The past forty-eight hours have been a special kind of hell. Ever since that disaster of a dinner at the house, my phone has felt like a brick in my pocket. I've been itching to text her. I want to call her. Hell, I want to drive over to her place and pull her into my arms just to make sure Nathaniel didn’t completely poison her mind against me.But I don't. I force myself to stay away. It takes every single ounce of my willpower not to reach out, but I know what Nathaniel is capable of. He knows exactly how to plant a doubt and let it rot from the inside out, and if I push too hard right now, I’ll only drive Meeka further away. So, I give her space, even if it's killing me.My day goes by in a blur of pure frustration. I handle my both businesses, look through papers, and I just try to distract myself, but my mind keeps looping back to her. By the time midnight rolls around, I’m restless, pacing around my apartment in nothing but sweatpants.I definitely don't expect a knock on my do

The numbers above the elevator door slowly bleed from one floor to the next, leaving me standing alone in the suffocating quiet of the hallway.By the time I finally forced myself to move, taking the stairs three at a time just to do something with the frantic, useless energy spiking in my veins, the garage was already empty. The screech of her tires still seemed to echo off the concrete walls, but her car was gone. She had driven out of my penthouse before I could even make it down to the lobby.My first instinct—the only instinct I’ve ever known when something I need slips through my fingers, was to hunt her down. I actually got into my car, put my hand on the wheel, blood from my split knuckles smearing across the leather, ready to tear through the city streets and follow her straight to her apartment building. I wanted to kick her door down if I had to, pin her to a wall, and force her to listen to the truth.But midway through starting the engine, I stopped. My hands just froze

A week has passed, and if there is one thing I’ve gotten exceptionally good at, it’s lying to myself. I stare at the reflection in the boutique mirror, smoothing down the fabric of a dress I don’t care about, pretending the tightness in my chest is just fatigue. I am fine. I’ve repeated the words so many times over the last seven days that they almost sound convincing. “I’m over it. I’m over him.”Except my phone is sitting face down on the velvet ottoman behind me, a heavy, silent reminder of everything I’m trying to escape.Slade hasn’t stopped trying. The screen lights up multiple times a day with missed calls, voicemails I refuse to play, and texts begging me to just meet him somewhere, anywhere, to talk. Every single time, I force my fingers to swipe the notifications away, ignoring the hollow ache that follows.I have to. My wedding with Nathaniel is next week, and there is no room left anymore for distractions. I’ve spent the last seven days systematically trying to scrub Slad

I let out a rough, humorless laugh, dragging my hand down the back of my neck. The skin there feels tight, knotted up with the kind of tension that's been building for days.“I was honestly hoping you'd tell me,” I mutter, keeping my eyes fixed somewhere near the floorboards.One corner of Evelyn's mouth lifts just a bit. It’s that familiar, patient expression she always uses when I’m being particularly stubborn.“So you got in your car, drove almost an hour straight into the absolute middle of nowhere, just because you wanted me to explain why you're sitting in my office?”“When you put it like that, yeah, it sounds a little ridiculous.”“It sounds very you, Slade.”That actually earns the ghost of a smile from me. It’s small, and gone almost the exact second it shows up. But she catches it anyway. She always notices everything, no matter how fast I try to hide it.Evelyn doesn't rush to fill the space between us, she never does. Years ago, during my first few sessions, that silence