All Chapters of His Forbidden Mistress: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Serena’s POV I arrive at Daniel Hawthorne’s building just before one, thanking the driver as he holds the door open for me to get out of the car Daniel sent. The building is tall, imposing, and I tilt my head back, my heart racing at the knowledge that in a matter of minutes, I’ll see Daniel Hawthorne.“Give your name to the man at the front desk and he’ll instruct you to the penthouse elevator,” The driver advises after he shuts the door, his smile warmwhen he turns to me.“Thank you again,” I say with a faint smile, pushing past the nerves that are dancing in my stomach.I walk into the building, the lobby so fancy from where I live as I walked carefully like I don’t want to stain the floor and when I give my name to the man behind the massive wood and lacquer desk, he nods as if he’s been waiting for me, the instructions for the penthouse elevatorrattling off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times before. Tucking my coat around me, I make my way to the elevator, the do

Daniel’s POV This girl, goddamn.She is dirty and agreeable to anything, and so fucking responsive. The sounds she makes, the way she arches against me, as if she can’t get enough. When I went down on her from behind, her pussy was soaked, drenching my face as I ate at her flesh.Fuck, I’d do it again. Right now, if she let me.I wanted to test her. See what she was up for. I’m probably moving too fast.But her pussy clenched up on me when I touched her boobs. She squirmed and whimpered and practically begged for more when I kept it up.Once we get cleaned up, we end up lying in my bed, lazing the rest of the afternoon away. She’s been quiet and it got me worried. I turned, propping myself on an elbow, studying her profile. “You okay?” I asked, my voice rough, searching her face.She didn’t look at me, her gaze distant. “Don’t you think we’re moving too fast? I mean, we don’t even know each other yet. I get that-”I cut her off with a kiss, soft but insistent, unable to hear her do

Serena’s POVMy hands shook, with my pink lace bodysuit clinging to my sweat-damp skin as Lila’s arms wrapped around me. The memory of the VIP’s rough hands, his sour kiss, and his violent grip on my hair still burned through me. I had kicked him where it hurt and fled, but the violation clung like a parasite. Lila’s eyes are sharp with worry, softened as she holds me. “You’re okay now, Serena,” she whispered,holding me firmly. “That creep is a monster. But you’re stronger than him, than all of this.”I nodded, tears stinging my eyes. “I hate this, Lila,” I choked out. “I can’t keep doing this.” She squeezed me tighter, her strength pulling me back from the edge, as we headed inside, her arm around my shoulders as we walked slowly to the dressing room.The dressing room felt silent which was unusual until the sight of Daniel Hawthorne leaning against the counter stopped me cold. His dark eyes locked onto mine, intense and unyielding, his tailored suit out of place among the sequins a

Serena’s POVThe faint hum of voices yanked me from a restless sleep. The morning light barely pierces the grimy curtains of my East End apartment. My head ached from the way that asshole grabbed my hair at Neon Nights last night, Daniel Hawthorne’s brutal retaliation, and Mr. Shawn’s suspension crushed my spirit. Fear clawed at me, the voices downstairs sharpening into a threat. Victor. Is he here for Mia? To carry out his threat?I scrambled out of bed, my oversized T-shirt clinging to my sweat-damp skin, as I grabbed a baseball bat from under my bed, my hands shaking as I crept down the creaky stairs, fear pulsing in my throat.The voices grew clearer- laughter, light and familiar, not Victor’s cold menace. I froze on the landing, with the bat raised, as the living room came into view. Mia sat cross-legged on the couch,with her brown eyes sparkling, and a plate of toast on her lap. Across from her, Daniel Hawthorne is seated in our rickety chair, his tailored suit absurdly standi

Daniel’s POVMy memory flushed of Serena’s cheeks in Cartier, her awe at the glittering displays, clashed with the saleswoman’s disrespectful dismissal in Chanel. That bitch’s faint sneer, the way she’d slid the pink flap bag away from Serena like she was some thief, had lit a fuse in me. Serena might brush it off, but I wasn’t letting it slide. Nobody disrespected her, not on my watch. Her footsteps hurried behind me, her voice rising, “Daniel, stop! It’s not worth it!” But I ignored her, my jaw tight, the Cartier bag swinging in my hand as I pushed through the store’s glass doors.The air inside Chanel was cool, sterile, the scent of leather and wealth heavy. The saleswoman stood behind the counter, her eyes narrowing as I approached, clearly annoyed at my return. Serena hovered behind me, reluctantly, but I didn’t look back. My blood was up, fueled by the need to protect her, to claim her in a world that kept trying to grind her down and this snobby saleswoman was about to feel th