Taming The Hart Brothers のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 39

I was shoved hard out of the rear door of the idling black sedan. My knees slammed into the wet, unforgiving asphalt of the private driveway, the skin tearing beneath my pants as I tumbled onto the soaked ground. The tires screeched, sending cold rainwater spraying over my shivering frame, before the sleek vehicle vanished into the dark, winding mountain road. I lay there for a long moment, my cheek pressed against the freezing asphalt. The rain washed over my skin, but it couldn't cleanse the sickening heat of Vincenzo’s gloved hand where it had pressed into my throat, nor could it wash away the dark, copper stench of Jace’s blood that had dried sticky and heavy against the side of my face. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory flashed behind my eyelids with terrifying, blinding intensity the sharp BANG echoing off the rusted steel walls, the sudden red hole blooming between Jace’s desperate eyes, and his lifeless, empty stare as his knees buckled inches from my feet. He kille

The heavy oak door clicked shut behind Dr. Evelyn Reed as she sat down in the armchair across from my bed. For the first ten minutes, neither of us spoke. I kept my gaze locked on the rain-streaked glass of the balcony doors, my arms wrapped tightly around my waist, bracing myself for the usual clinical platitudes, the empty reassurances that I was safe, that the nightmare was over, that I just needed to breathe.Evelyn didn't offer any of that.She simply opened her leather portfolio, pulled out a simple sketchbook and a charcoal pencil, and began sketching.I watched her out of the corner of my eye, suspicion burning in my chest. "What are you doing?" I finally asked, my voice cracking slightly from disuse."Drawing," Evelyn replied calmly, not looking up from her page. "You don't want to talk, and forcing you to fill awkward silences with a stranger won't help anything. So I'm drawing the skyline while you sit in silence. We can exist in the same room without demands."The unexpect

The aftermath of the Metropolitan Opera House gala was an absolute bloodbath of toxic, suffocating jealousy. The second the heavy iron doors of the penthouse elevator slammed shut behind us that night, Lucien had lost his mind. He didn't yell, Lucien never yelled, but his icy blue eyes were lit with a terrifying, frozen fury as he demanded I hand over my phone. Damon had looked ready to smash the floor-to-ceiling glass windows with his bare fists, growling that Arthur Mercer would be resting at the bottom of the Hudson River before sunrise if he so much as dialed my number. I hadn't backed down an inch. I had stood in the center of the foyer, surrounded by four massive, furious lords, and laughed straight in their faces. “You treat me like an enemy,” I had reminded them, my sharp tongue cutting through their collective rage like a scalding blade. “You lock me in this tower, you bring women to my face, you act like cold monsters, and then you expect me to sit around waiting for yo

Three nights after our explosive confrontation in the living room, I needed to get out. Dr. Evelyn Reed’s words had echoed in my head like a haunting melody: You're using Arthur as a shield. I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to prove to myself, and to the four dark, suffocating shadows hovering over my life that I could have a normal, quiet evening with a decent man. So, I accepted Arthur’s invitation to the Obsidian Lounge an exclusive, dimly lit rooftop bar perched atop one of Midtown's sleekest skyscrapers. The atmosphere was sophisticated, pulsing with low, thumping electronic jazz music, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass walls that offered a breathtaking panoramic view of the glittering New York skyline. I wore a backless charcoal cocktail dress, sitting across from Arthur in a secluded leather booth near the back corner. Arthur was charming, pouring me a glass of sparkling water and asking about my work on the corporate audits. But as the night wore on, I felt rest