All Chapters of Dirty (short stories): Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Chapter 11 Elena stared at the screen, the words blurring. Board minutes. Greenlit demolition. Her name circled in red like a target. She looked up at Damien. “You son of a bitch.” He reached for the phone. She jerked it back, stepping away from both him and Theo. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare.” “Elena, wait—” Damien’s voice was low, urgent. “That’s not—” “Not what? Not true?” Her laugh cracked. “I saw the files. Your ex on the board sent them. The same one who warned me about you. You’ve been playing me this whole time. The sex, the donations, the fake vulnerability. All to keep me quiet while you lined up the wrecking balls.” Theo shifted uncomfortably. “Elena, maybe we should—” “Get out, Theo,” she snapped. He hesitated, then nodded and left, the bell jingling behind him like a final insult. Damien’s face was stone, but his eyes flickered with something raw. “It’s not that simple. The board pushed. I told them to hold off. I was going to—” “Going to what? Redesig

Elena wiped away sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, the diner rag leaving a greasy streak across her skin. The late shift crowd had finally thinned, but her feet throbbed and her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. She pulled the crumpled hospital bill from her apron pocket and stared at the new total. Another round of chemo. Ten thousand dollars due in two weeks or they’d stop treatment. Her mom’s face flashed in her head—pale, smiling weakly from the hospital bed yesterday. “Don’t worry about me, mija. You’ve done enough.” Elena’s throat tightened. She hadn’t done enough. Not even close. She leaned against the counter and opened her mail, a message caught her eye, sent hours ago. *Companion wanted. Generous compensation. Discretion required. Serious inquiries only.* The pay range made her breath catch. Enough to cover the bills and then some extras. Her thumb hovered over it. This was crazy, but so was watching her mother die because she couldn’t afford basic medicin

Elena’s back hit the door the moment it clicked shut. Alexander stood inches away, his body heat wrapping around her like a threat. The red dress suddenly felt too tight, too revealing.“You’ve been thinking about this since you signed that contract,” he said, voice low. No question. Just fact.She swallowed hard. “You don’t know what I’ve been thinking.”His hand came up, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw before sliding into her hair. He didn’t pull, but the grip was firm enough to tilt her head exactly how he wanted. “I know you’re scared. I also know your heart is racing.”Heat flooded her face. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to push him away. Instead her breath hitched when his thumb brushed her lower lip.“Alexander—”He kissed her.No softness. No warmup. Just raw hunger that slammed into her chest and stole the air from her lungs. His mouth claimed hers, demanding, and after a frozen second she kissed him back. Teeth scraped. Tongues tangled. Her hands fisted in his sh

Elena stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing down the deep emerald green dress Alexander had chosen for the gala. The fabric clung to her curves, expensive and elegant, but it felt like armor she didn’t know how to wear. The silver necklace from their shopping trip rested cool against her collarbone. A reminder of him. Alexander appeared in the doorway, already in a black tuxedo that made him look even more untouchable. His eyes swept over her slowly. “You’ll do,” he said, but his voice had a rough edge that betrayed him. The ride to the gala was quiet. His hand rested on her thigh again, thumb occasionally brushing the slit in the dress. Claiming. Always claiming. Elena stared out the window, the overheard phone call and the maid’s words still looping in her head. Leverage. Her father. How much of this was real? The ballroom was a sea of diamonds and elites. Crystal chandeliers cast light over men who moved markets and women who smiled like they owned them. Alexan

The rain came down in sheets the morning Mara first met him. She slid into the back of the black Range Rover at 7:12 a.m., already on a call, voice low and lethal as she tore into her COO about missed deadlines. The car didn’t move. She glanced up, annoyed. “Seatbelt,” the driver said in a deep voice with no apology in his voice nor rush. Mara blinked. The man in the front seat was new, he had broad shoulders straining the seams of a black suit, short dark hair still damp from the rain, jawline sharp enough to make you second guess staring too long. His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, ver steady and unreadable, the color of dark espresso. She clicked the belt without breaking eye contact. “You’re not Marcus.” “Marcus is out sick. I’m Jax. Started today.” “Jax.” She let the name hang for a second. “Drive. I need to be at the tower in twenty-five minutes.” He pulled away from the curb with driving as smooth as silk, Just clean acceleration that pressed her back into t