The Billionaire Heiress: yes, Use me のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

The penthouse elevator hadn't even finished hissing shut before the mask dropped.Xavier didn't say a word. He didn't have to. The air around him was vibrating with a silent, dangerous energy. Outside, in front of his father and the elite, he had been a dog on a leash, kissing my feet and letting me humiliate him. But the moment those doors locked us away from the world, the leash snapped.He grabbed my waist, his large hands sinking into the silk of my gown, and spun me around. With one swift, powerful motion, he lifted me off my feet, pinning me against the cool mahogany paneling of the hallway. My breath hitched as the sheer weight of him crushed against me."You liked that, didn't you?" he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against my ear. "You liked seeing me down there. You liked the way the world looked at me when I belonged to you.""I did," I whispered, my own blood singing with the thrill of the win. "I told you to prove it, Xavier. And you did.""I proved it for th

The heavy scent of lilies filled the penthouse, a gift that had arrived while we were at the boardroom massacre. They weren't from Xavier. The card was thick, cream-colored, and bore a single silver 'S'.“To the woman who makes kings kneel. I have something that belongs to you. Or perhaps, something that belongs to the man who thinks he owns you. Meet me at the Midnight Gallery. Alone. J.S.I stared at the card, my fingers tracing the embossed letter. The marks Xavier had left on my skin yesterday were still sensitive, a constant, throbbing reminder of the price I paid for his protection. I could feel him watching me from the doorway of his study, his eyes dark with that possessive, simmering jealousy that never truly slept."Who are they from?" Xavier’s voice was a low, dangerous vibration."The florist didn't say," I lied, slipping the card into the pocket of my silk robe. I didn't want another war in the living room tonight. I needed information. "Probably just another shareholder

The drive back from the Hilton Ballroom was a funeral procession at eighty miles per hour. The city lights of Chicago smeared against the windows of the Maybach, but inside the car, there was only the sound of our breathing mine, sharp and shallow; Xavier’s, a heavy, jagged rasp.We had left a path of destruction behind us. By now, the headlines would be screaming about the "Crestview Scandal." The image of the "Lady of the Manor" Elena being outed as the former house help and Arthur’s mistress would be the talk of every boardroom in the country. I had won. I had stripped them of their dignity.But as I looked at Xavier’s silhouette in the driver’s seat, the victory felt like ash. Arthur’s parting words about the Vanes and my father, Elias, were a poison circulating in my veins.The moment we stepped into the penthouse, the air changed. The door clicked shut, sealing us in our glass cage. I didn't stop to take off my coat. I didn't look at the luxury I had become accustomed to. I head

The wind on the fiftieth-floor rooftop garden of Vane Global was a cold, biting thing, a physical manifestation of the atmosphere that had settled between Xavier and me since the Gala. It was a masterpiece of architectural arrogance—a lush, green sanctuary of manicured hedges and blooming white roses suspended high above the grit and chaos of Chicago. Up here, the air was thinner, smelling of expensive jasmine and the ozone of a coming storm.Xavier had spared no expense. A single table was set in the center of the terrace, isolated like an island in a sea of green. He wanted the world to see us. More importantly, he wanted the corporate spies and the hovering board members to see that the "Ice Queen" was still by his side."You aren’t eating, Lara," Xavier observed, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that skipped across my nerves.He sat across from me, his expensive navy blazer discarded over the back of his chair. His white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the power

The air in the penthouse study was thick with the scent of old paper and the sharp, clinical smell of expensive scotch. We had been sitting in the heavy silence for three hours, the only sound being the soft scratching of my pen against the ledgers and the rhythmic tapping of Xavier’s fingers on his keyboard. To any outsider, we looked like two focused executives working toward a merger. In reality, we were two soldiers sitting in a trench, waiting for the next grenade to be thrown by the people outside our glass walls.Xavier sat in his high-backed leather chair, his dark hair disheveled from where he had been running his fingers through it in frustration. He had discarded his tie hours ago, and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the tense cords of his neck. Every few minutes, I would feel his gaze lift from the screen and settle on me. It wasn't a casual glance; it was a heavy, weighted stare that felt like a physical touch. He was checking to see if I was