All Chapters of THE PRICE OF BEING HIS : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Chapter Thirty-TwoAndrea’s POVI am still trying to catch my breath, my body trembling on the desk, when the phone starts buzzing again. It won’t stop. Another two messages come in right after the first ones.“Andrea,” Tristan says, a warning edge in his voice as he flips me onto my stomach and pushes back into me. “Check your phone.”“Ah, Master… it’s not important,” I whisper, my voice shaky. I don’t want anything to ruin this moment. I just want him to keep fucking me, to keep owning me like this. “It can wait…”Tristan doesn’t listen. He slows his thrusts to shallow, teasing strokes and reaches for the phone with one hand while the other stays on my hip, holding me in place.“Check it,” he orders, voice low and firm. “It won’t stop buzzing. Answer it.”I hesitate, but the tone in his voice leaves exactly zero room for argument. I pick up the phone with shaky fingers and open the messages.They are from Marcus Laurent.*Still thinking about what I said?**You should be.**He's not

Chapter Thirty-FourAndrea’s POVI wake up to the soft sound of a door opening and closing.My eyes flutter open slowly. The bed feels warm and huge, the sheets still carrying Tristan’s scent. I turn my head and see him standing in front of the tall mirror, knotting a deep navy luxurious tie easily like someone who has started practicing it since five, and could probably do it blindfolded. I stare at him for a moment, fully awake now but not ready to admit it.God, this man.Even first thing in the morning, he looks like he stepped out of a magazine. Perfect freshly shaved jaw, sharp shoulders, the way his shirt hugs his chest… It's unfair. How can one person be this hot? Like maybe he was a Greek god in his past life and decided to come back as a billionaire just to ruin innocent girls like me. Genuinely, it should not be legal to look like this by whatever time it is now.I stir under the covers and sit up, letting out a small whine.“It’s the weekend,” I say, my voice still sleepy

Chapter Thirty-SixAndrea’s POVI decided to cook something simple. The kind of meal my mom used to make when we had a little extra money at home. Not fancy restaurant food, just good, hearty breakfast. I made scrambled eggs with chopped onions and tomatoes, crispy bacon, golden pancakes with a bit of honey, and fresh toast with butter. I also added some sautéed mushrooms because I thought they would make the eggs taste even better. Nothing too luxurious, but the kind of food that always made us feel happy whenever we could afford it.To Tristan, it might look like nothing special. But I wanted to make something from my world for once.I worked quietly in the big kitchen, humming to myself as I flipped the pancakes and stirred the eggs. The smell of bacon and mushrooms soon filled the air, warm and comforting. When everything was ready, I plated it nicely on two plates, eggs with mushrooms, bacon, pancakes, and toast arranged carefully with some sliced fruits on the side.I wiped my

Chapter Thirty-EightAndrea’s POVHe's propped up against the headboard with a glass of water on the nightstand and the colour slowly returning to his face, which is a relief because twenty minutes ago he looked like a man who had seen the other side and wasn't impressed by it.I’m lying beside him, both of us under the covers, but I’m a little lower, half resting against his thigh. I keep watching him in that quiet, careful way you do after a scare, like I just need to make sure he’s still okay every few seconds without making it obvious.After a long stretch of silence, I finally give in to the question that’s been sitting in my head ever since he said that sentence in Spanish.“How many languages do you speak, Mr. Hale?”Tristan turns his head slightly, looking down at me, a small, tired smile pulling at his lips.“Six,” he answers. “Fluent in four.”“Which four?”“English, Spanish, French, Mandarin.”“And the other two?”“Conversational Italian and basic Arabic.” He says it the wa

Chapter FortyTristan’s POV“Father.”The word leaves my mouth flat, almost cold. I stand on the balcony, one hand in my pocket, staring at the covered swimming pool below while the afternoon wind moves across my skin.“Son.” On the other end of the line, my father’s voice comes through, smooth and measured like always. “You’re doing a good job with the company. I knew I could trust you with my hard work.”“You always knew that.” I suck my teeth, already feeling the familiar irritation rise in my chest. “Why are you calling?”He clears his throat, the sound deliberate. “I want you over at my place tonight for a family dinner. Your mother and I, we miss you.”I close my eyes for a second. “Cut it out, Victor.”There’s a short pause for about ten seconds if I counted right.“Fine,” he says, finally dropping the whole fatherly act. “I have something important to discuss with you. Don’t be late.The line goes dead before I can reply.I lower the phone and stare at the screen for a moment.