Semua Bab Masked: Ruin Me, Daddy (MM Taboo collection): Bab 11 - Bab 20

The air on the private rooftop terrace of the resort was crisp and cool, a sharp contrast to the blistering heat that had consumed them in the suite the night before.Martin had rented out the entire top tier of the hotel’s Michelin-starred restaurant. There were no other guests, no waiters hovering, just a table set with flickering candles, crystal, and a breathtaking panoramic view of the moonlit mountains.For the first time since Javed had arrived at the estate, Martin looked completely unburdened. The rigid tension in his broad shoulders had melted away. He wore a dark, tailored suit without the tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sipping a glass of rare scotch as he watched Javed from across the table."You haven't stopped looking at me since the appetizers," Javed noted, a soft, teasing smile playing on his lips as he twirled the stem of his wine glass."I have spent the last month forcing myself to look away from you, Javed," Martin replied, his voice a low, smooth r

The morning after the cocktail mixer, the heavy scent of crushed ice, stale champagne, and blooming orchids still hung over the estate’s grand parlor.David was at the mahogany table in the temporary media tent set up on the lawn, hunched over a laptop as Liam, the photographer, loaded high-resolution press files onto a hard drive. Javed was standing near the entrance, holding a mug of coffee he hadn't touched, his throat still raw from the quiet, furious passion he and Martin had shared against the office desk hours prior."Alright, most of the lighting tests are clean," Liam said, clicking through the gallery thumbnail grid. "Except for a few random test shots I took in the service corridors."David leaned over Liam’s shoulder, sipping his coffee. "Any usable candid shots of the VIPs?""Not really. Just reflections and shadows," Liam muttered. He double-clicked a file to enlarge it. "Like this one. I was adjusting my aperture down the east gallery, and the antique mirror picked up a

The annual Cole Foundation Charity Gala was, by every metric, an astounding triumph. Crystal chandeliers cast a radiant light over three hundred high-society guests in tailored tuxedos and couture gowns. Photographers' flashes popped like silver lightning near the grand entrance, and the smooth, synchronized melodies of a live string quartet swept through the expansive ballroom.Yet for Javed, the opulent celebration felt like an execution chamber.Standing near the champagne tower with a tablet tucked under his arm, Javed could barely breathe. His tuxedo felt suffocatingly tight around his chest. Every time he looked up, he met the icy, unreadable gaze of David standing across the floor.David hadn't spoken more than ten words to him all evening. He moved through the crowd like a ghost—polite to donors, but entirely distant from Javed and his father. He kept his right hand buried deep in his trousers pocket, his thumb repeatedly tracing the heavy silver and onyx cufflink he had found

Three weeks in the city felt like three centuries.Javed’s small, third-floor walk-up apartment in Queens was loud, cramped, and entirely devoid of light. The radiator clanked incessantly against the wall, and the constant hum of traffic outside replaced the quiet rustle of pine trees and rain over the lake.Javed went through the motions of his new life with a mechanical, suffocating numbness. He woke up at six, put on a off-the-rack suit, rode the crowded subway into Midtown, and spent ten hours analyzing market forecasts at his entry-level job. To his supervisors, he was quiet, hyper-focused, and remarkably productive.Inside, he was bleeding to death.Every time he reached for his phone or checked the time, his left wrist felt painfully light. He had left the heavy platinum watch on Martin’s nightstand, but the phantom weight of it lingered on his skin like a permanent scar. Every tall man in a dark suit walking down Fifth Avenue made his heart stop. Every faint whiff of sandalwoo

The towering glass-and-steel skyscraper of Cole Enterprises dominated the city skyline, a monument to corporate power and untouchable wealth. At ten o'clock the next morning, Javed walked through the gleaming, heavily secured lobby. He wore a crisp, tailored navy suit—the exact one Martin had complimented him on weeks ago.His heart was beating so fiercely he thought it might crack his ribs, but his step was absolute and unwavering.Go fix my dad.He didn't have an appointment. When he reached the security desk, the guard recognized him from the gala guest lists and let him pass with a respectful nod. Javed rode the private executive elevator up to the sixtieth floor, the silent ascent doing nothing to calm his racing pulse.The elevator doors chimed and slid open, revealing an expansive, sleek reception area bathed in natural light."Mr. Vance," Martin's executive assistant, a sharp-eyed woman named Sarah, looked up in surprise. "I wasn't informed you were coming in today. Mr. Cole i