Todos os capítulos de Désiré Me 2: Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 90

DianeHe leans on the table, bringing his face closer. The candlelight plays across his features.— I saw that you don't flee. I saw that you observe. I saw a coldness that is not indifference, but control. And I saw, in the steam of that bath, a glimmer of defiance you don't yet quite know how to hide.My heart quickens. He saw. Of course he saw. He's paid to see.— It's not defiance, I say, holding his gaze. It's survival. There's a difference.— Survival is instinct. Defiance is a choice. You choose not to collapse. Not to beg me. Not to play the role of easy seduction. It's an interesting choice. Courageous. And perhaps a little stupid.— Why stupid?— Because it makes me curious. And my curiosity, Diane, is a far more dangerous thing for you than my desire.The word "desire" hangs in the air between us, charged with the electricity that crackled in the bathroom. He named it. For the first time

 DianeDaylight penetrates my eyelids, a gray and cold blade. I wake in the limbo of a restless sleep, my body heavy, my mind stuck in the murky residues of the night. Then consciousness returns, and with it, memory. The ember under the skin. The inner jail. The shame.I sit up abruptly, the sheets sliding. And my heart stops cold, expelling all torpor in an instant.He is there.Standing at the foot of the bed, leaning against the frame of the open door. He is dressed in an impeccably cut charcoal suit, buttoning his jacket. A slow, elegant closure. The fabric molds to the breadth of his shoulders, the line of his waist. I hadn't heard the door. I didn't know he was already there. Already ready.My breath catches in my chest.He looks up, the task completed. His gaze falls on me, tangled in the linen, hair disheveled, eyes surely shadowed by the night's battle. And he smiles.It's not the knowing, cruel smile of the nigh

 DimitriI walk through, leaving behind me the restored silence, tenser than the first. The heavy oak door closes, isolating me from the world.Here, it is my other kingdom. Straight lines, clear perspectives, everything under control. The city spreads out behind the window, a glittering construction set under the sun. Yet, today, my mind is not entirely here. Part of me remains in the half-light of a house, observing another's silences.Elena enters, tablet in hand, shield of efficiency.— I've prioritized the files. The Asian subsidiary shows discrepancies. The audit…— Set aside anything that can wait.Her fingers, which were flying over the screen, pause for a fraction of a second.— Everything?— Everything. I'll be out this afternoon.She nods, absorbing the information without a blink. She never questions. An invaluable quality.— Tomorrow's engagements?

DianeThe car is a padded cell where silence purrs. The nocturnal city streams past the tinted windows, a torrent of anonymous lights that seem to want to suck us in, dissolve us in their incessant flow. I sit upright on the leather seat, my hands clenched on the black satin clutch resting on my lap. My nails, lacquered a dark red that looks like dried blood, dig into the fabric. Every traffic light, every neon that glides over the bodywork is like a too-fast heartbeat, a silent countdown.Next to me, he drives. One negligent hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the gearshift, his wrist adorned with a discreet watch whose dial captures bluish glints. His profile is carved from shadow and shifting reflections. He exudes an absolute, sovereign tranquility that acts upon me like a provocation. He casts a brief look in my direction, a pale flash that sweeps over my silhouette imprisoned in green satin.— You’re not saying anything.His voice is low, smooth. The familiar addres

DianeShe barely touches her plate. She takes a sip of the dark Burgundy I chose for her. Her fingers tremble imperceptibly on the stem of the glass. She stares at the room, and I know she is evaluating every exit, every face that could be an ally, every window, every door. And she notes, one by one, their hermetic closure, sealed by the image we project.That’s when Laroche stands up. He has drunk a little too much, his face is flushed, his eyes shine with an unhealthy insistence. He heads towards our table, ignoring his neighbor’s warning look.— Dimitri! My dear fellow! What a surprise! We never see you anymore.His voice is too loud, cutting through the murmur of the room. All heads turn again.— And this… vision at your side. Are you going to introduce her to us eventually, or keep her jealously for yourself?He laughs, a thick laugh, and his gaze undresses Diane with the impudence of a parvenu. At a nearby table, the diamond-laden woman purses her lips, scandalized but delighted