Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband! のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 131 - チャプター 140

‘I didn’t know you grew up here,’ I said, surprised.‘I didn’t, not exactly. I spent about sixteen months in Portugal before we moved on. My mother is a sociologist, specialising in cultural anthropology. She was on a years-long field study, a kind of global research trip. I joined her whenever I could.’He listed a few places offhand, names that sounded like poetry and adventure: the highlands of Papua New Guinea, the bustling souks of Marrakech, studying remote communities in the Amazon basin.I marvelled at that. As a kid who grew up in a seaside village, I’d dreamed of travelling the world like every other child, but Lochlan had actually lived that reality. No wonder he seemed so… unshakeable. He had probably seen things I could only imagine.‘I have seen many seas,’ he continued, his voice softening. ‘I have watched the Pacific from the cliffs of Rapa Nui, and the Indian Ocean from the shores of Zanzibar. But each day is different. Every sunset is unique.’He paused, his gaze stil

It was not a room for eating.It was a theatre. Rows of deep, plush armchairs were spaced apart in a semi-circle, all facing a low, black stage. The lights in here were already dim.As we found seats, Lochlan’s hand found mine, his grip firm.‘Stay close,’ he whispered again, and the command now felt less like an order and more like a warning.The classical music from the other room cut off. A new, thrumming bassline started, the kind you’d hear in a high-end Vegas nightclub.The lights on the stage brightened, and women appeared. They began to dance, their movements precise, gymnastic, and intensely erotic.My stomach tightened. This was not a cultural performance.The first dance ended to polite applause. The second began with a theme: women in uniforms. Nuns with skirts slit to the hip, waitresses with nothing but aprons, policewomen with handcuffs swinging from their belts.The music picked up tempo, and the uniforms started coming off. Piece by piece.It was a striptease.I squirm

Toby shrugged, as if the rejection was a minor inconvenience.‘Suit yourself. But while you’re making up your mind,’ he said, his eyes sliding back to me with a predatory gleam, ‘that’s a charming piece you have there. It’s a shame to keep her all to yourself.’He leaned closer to Lochlan, his voice dropping. ‘Let her circulate a bit. I’ll give you the contracts for the Baltic ports in exchange. How about it, eh?’I felt the blood drain from my face.I fixed my gaze on Lochlan, my eyes screaming, ‘Well?’If he so much as nodded, I’d cheerfully bash that ridiculously expensive bottle over his head and run like hell out of this godforsaken hellscape.Lochlan sighed, as if Toby had proposed a tricky but not entirely disagreeable golf wager.‘That is a remarkably generous offer,’ he said, his tone one of genuine appreciation, which made me want to punch him in his perfectly sculpted throat. ‘But not tonight, I think. She has a frightfully jealous streak, and it would make the rest of the t

Mateus recovered enough to let out a guttural roar.He lunged again, his face a contorted mask of fury.‘You vicious cunt! I’ll make you regret that! I’m going to break you in half!’That was it. The final thread of my composure snapped.Screw this. I would rather go to jail for murder than let him touch me again.My hand shot out and grabbed a heavy, decorative ceramic vase from a nearby console table. Without a second thought, I swung it and brought it down with all my strength not over his head, but directly onto his face.There was a sickening, wet crunch.The vase, heavy and solid, didn’t shatter. Mateus went down without another sound, collapsing like a felled log, his legs folding uselessly under his body.Dark blood immediately began oozing from a gash on his forehead, pooling on the polished marble.He wasn’t moving. He didn’t even appear to be breathing.The woman gave a low, mocking laugh. ‘There,’ she said, sounding almost pleased. ‘Now you are no better than me.’A cold, v

Instead of pushing me away, he stepped into the tub, still holding me, and sank down into the cold water as it rose around us.The shock of it was a physical blow, a brutal and welcome violence against my feverish skin.I gasped as the spray from the rain shower head drenched my hair and back, a thousand icy needles against the inferno that had become my body.For a glorious, terrible second, the fog in my head cleared, and sanity returned with the force of a slap.I took in the scene, utterly mortified.There I was, straddling my boss in a flooded bathtub, my thin dress plastered to my body like a second skin, his white shirt rendered completely transparent, clinging to the hard planes of his chest.The sheer, soaking indecency of it was a bucket of cold reality all by itself.I tried to scramble off his lap, humiliation burning through me hotter than any drug ever could.This was worse, so much worse, than just wanting him. This was being caught in the act of begging for it.‘No,’ he