Lahat ng Kabanata ng Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!: Kabanata 311 - Kabanata 320

All the lights cut out entirely.I tensed, reaching for Portia’s hand in the darkness.A second later, a single spotlight cut across the front of the sweeping spiral staircase.A woman in a full-face ornate black mask and black gown descended slowly.Mrs Reynolds stepped forward, beaming. ‘Ladies, I’m delighted to present our honoured guest this evening. Madam Tarot needs no introduction. She’s been invited to royal events and has once had an audience with…’I scanned the room.There had to be multiple exits to a space this large, but they were all hidden behind thick curtains. Several men were stationed near the far wall, not even trying to blend in.The professor stood next to me, watching Madam Tarot with interest.‘We should move towards the door,’ I said quietly.‘In a moment.’ She tilted her head. ‘Does Madam Tarot look familiar to you?’‘What?’‘There’s something about her. A familiar air. I may have met her before.’I turned towards the woman in black.Her face was completely h

The professor held out a hand. ‘Looks like you need some help.’I looked at her outstretched hand.‘I’m fine,’ I said.‘You’re listing to the left. And you’ve gone the colour of old parchment.’‘Thanks.’But I took her hand.She was stronger than she looked, which shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did. She steered me towards the French window with brisk efficiency, like someone accustomed to being obeyed without having to ask twice. ‘Watch the step.’Portia was right behind me.Outside, the air was cold and very dark. The garden stretched away from the house in indistinct shapes – hedges, paths, the outline of something that might be a fountain.Behind us, the banging on the guest suite door had escalated to the kind of rhythmic pounding that suggested whoever was on the other side had run out of patience.‘Move,’ Portia said, and we moved.We crossed what turned out to be a terrace and plunged into the garden proper, the professor’s grip on my arm steady as my feet made uncert

I didn’t so much sleep as lie in the dark rehearsing explanations.He’d lost his phone. He’d been caught up with something. The signal had been patchy all evening and maybe my messages hadn’t gone through properly after all.There were any number of sensible, non-catastrophic reasons why Lochlan Hastings, a man who ran a billion-pound firm with the organisational precision of a Swiss watch, might fail to respond to multiple calls and texts from someone he was sleeping with.None of the explanations felt convincing at six in the morning.I gave up on sleep, made coffee, and looked at my phone.One grey tick. Still.I tried calling again. Voicemail, first ring.The low-grade panic that had been circling since last night landed properly.This wasn’t radio silence. This was something else. Lochlan didn’t do radio silence. The only reason he wouldn’t respond was if he couldn’t.Car accident. An ambush. Soraya Warren had been on the loose for days and last night had hardly been short of arme

Frankfurt’s financial district looks like London’s cousin – same glass and steel ambition, but more organised.I’ve always found it easier to think here. Less noise.Today was not easier.The morning meetings ran as they were supposed to. I said what needed to be said, asked what needed to be asked, shook the hands that needed shaking. Thirty years of watching my father work a room had left me with a functional autopilot for these occasions.I could run a creditors’ meeting on four hours of sleep and a bad conscience, which was fortunate, because that was precisely what I was doing.Hyacinth sat two seats down during the first session and took notes with the focused efficiency of someone who had decided to be excellent at her job today specifically.I noticed because I notice everything she does, which is a condition I’ve largely given up trying to manage.During the coffee break, one of the Frankfurt associates – mid-thirties, nice enough suit, the easy confidence of a man who has nev

We broke apart. I yanked my shirt straight.Lochlan stood up and smoothed his shirt and went to open the door with the composure of someone who’d just been reading.The porter wheeled in the cart. Lochlan signed for it, tipped him, and closed the door, and when he lifted the silver cloche and saw the fries sitting next to the salmon he looked at me.‘Those are mine,’ I said.He picked one up and offered it to me.I took it. The smell hit me before the taste did, hot oil and salt, and something in my stomach lurched sideways. I gagged.‘You alright?’ Lochlan came closer.‘Fine. I think.’ I set down the fry. ‘Probably just my stomach still adjusting.’He fetched me a glass of water, watched me for a second to make sure I wasn’t going to throw up, then sat down to eat.I picked at my fries and watched him and thought about the black car. The dark saloon I’d clocked outside my parents’ house three weeks ago and then again outside the Velos building and then again, undeniably, pulling away