جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 30

SeraphinaI choose the dress specifically to torture him.It’s red, bold, unapologetic, and it clings to every curve like a second skin before flaring slightly at my hips. The neckline plunges deep enough to be dangerous, showing the swell of my breasts without being obscene. Just subtle enough that Elena won’t comment, but obvious enough that Dominic won’t be able to look away.I slide into heels that make my legs look endless.Tonight is going to be exquisite torture. For both of us.I take my time with my makeup, smoky eyes, darker lips to complement the dress, and when I finally head downstairs, I can hear voices in the dining room. Adrian has arrived.The moment I enter, my stomach drops.Adrian Hawthorne stands by the sideboard talking to Elena, and the second he sees me, he smiled. My mind skidded back to Dominic’s office just days ago when he wiped at my smudged lipstick with his handkerchief. “Seraphina,” he says, and there’s something knowing in his tone that makes

SeraphinaDoes she still have feelings for him? Even after all these years, even married to Dominic, does some part of her wonder what her life would have been like if she’d chosen Adrian instead?The thought makes something ugly twist in my chest.Dominic takes another long drink from his wine glass, draining it completely, and when he sets it down, his eyes meet mine. There’s fury there, and frustration, and a desperate need for release that makes my stomach flip.I know that look. Know what it means.He’s going to take this rage out on me the first chance he gets.The thought makes me wet all over again.I help Elena serve dessert, acutely aware of the three of them at the table—Elena chatting pleasantly with Adrian about old friends, old memories, Dominic sitting rigid and silent, drinking from our bottle and watching me with eyes that promise punishment and pleasure in equal measure.“I have to say, Elena,” Adrian says as he takes a bite of cake, “you seem genuinely happy

DominicI can’t sleep.The rage from dinner still simmers beneath my skin, hot and acidic, eating away at whatever control I managed to maintain. At the same time, Adrian sat at my table and smiled his reasonable, considerate smile. While he offered me forty-eight hours, as if he were doing me a favor. While Elena defended him, took his side, squeezed my hand to keep me quiet like I was the one being unreasonable.I stare at the ceiling in the darkness, Elena’s breathing soft and even beside me. She fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted from the effort of hosting dinner, completely unaware that the moment her bedroom door closed, I had her sister bent over my desk with my hand over her mouth.The memory makes my cock stir, which makes the guilt worse, which makes the anger burn hotter.I shouldn’t have fucked Seraphina tonight. Shouldn’t have lost control like that. But the need was too overwhelming, the rage too intense, and she was there, willing, wanting me with an intensity th

SeraphinaI wake up alone. The bed beside me is empty, the sheets cool to the touch where Dominic slept. He’s already gone—left for work early, probably, to avoid facing Elena. To avoid facing what he said to her last night.But there, on the pillow, is a folded piece of paper with my name written across it in his sharp, precise handwriting. I reach for it, my heart doing something complicated in my chest, and unfold it carefully. ‘Thank you for keeping me sane when everything else is falling apart. - D’ The note is simple, almost cold in its brevity, but I read it three times anyway, my fingers tracing over where his pen pressed into the paper, blushing. He thanked me. I tuck the note into my nightstand drawer, beneath my journal where no one will find it, and the satisfaction that spreads through me is warm and possessive and completely unrepentant. I stretch languidly, feeling the pleasant soreness between my legs, the ache in my muscles from the way he took me. My body is

DominicThe conference room is already full when I arrive. The board members, eight of them now, with Adrian making nine, sit around the long table, conversation dying as I enter. Chen and Torres are at the far end, looking everywhere except at me. Cowards. They sold out without even giving me a real chance to counter.And there, sitting in what used to be Marcus Sullivan’s chair before he retired, is Adrian Hawthorne.He’s wearing a navy suit that probably cost five thousand dollars, looking completely at ease, like he’s been sitting at this table for years instead of minutes. When he sees me, he smiles.“Dominic,” he says warmly, standing to shake my hand. “Thank you for having me.”I shake his hand because I have to, because everyone is watching, because this is business and I can’t let personal feelings interfere.His grip is firm, confident. The grip of a man who knows he’s won.“Adrian.” I keep my voice neutral. “Welcome to Ashcroft Development.”We take our seats, me at