All Chapters of Sin On the 28th floor : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The reservation at Le Noir was for 8 p.m., a private dining room overlooking the river. Apex needed the Yamamoto account $180 million in Asian market expansion and the client, Mr. Kenji Sato, had a reputation for appreciating more than just good scotch and quarterly projections. Ryan had made the call that morning after another under-desk ritual left Emma’s throat raw and her thighs sticky.“She’s ready,” Ryan told Marcus while Emma knelt between them, licking the last traces of cum from their fingers. “Our wife entertains tonight.”Emma’s stomach had twisted at the word “loaned.” She wasn’t a toy to be passed around, but the heat between her legs betrayed her. The new collar felt heavier under her elegant black cocktail dress. No scarf tonight, just a diamond choker layered over the leather to hide the lock.“You’ll be perfect,” Marcus had reassured her in the car, a remote vibrator already seated deep in her pussy, controlled by an app on Ryan’s phone. “Subtle. Classy. Ours.”Now

The office lights on the thirty-seventh floor were dimmed to a soft amber glow, most of the floor empty except for the three of them. It was past 10 p.m., and the Yamamoto deal paperwork had to be perfect before morning. Emma sat at the small conference table in Ryan’s suite, day collar glinting at her throat, laptop open, legs crossed under her skirt. No panties standard now. The discreet silver chain felt like a constant reminder, especially tonight.Ryan’s phone had rung twenty minutes ago an overseas investor who didn’t understand time zones. He paced by the windows, voice calm and commanding as he negotiated terms. Marcus had been watching Emma the whole time, jaw tight, eyes darker than usual.He’d been quieter since the client's dinner. Seeing her perform for Sato, even indirectly, had stirred something ugly in him. Possessiveness that went beyond their shared games.“Take a break,” Marcus said suddenly, voice low enough not to carry to Ryan’s call. He grabbed her wrist and pul

The boardroom felt like a war zone again. Papers scattered across the long table. Ryan stood at the head, knuckles white on the edge. Marcus paced like a caged animal. Emma sat between them, day collar suddenly feeling like a noose.“The Yamamoto account is gone,” Ryan said flatly. “Defected overnight to Harlan Voss’s firm. Internal emails show they knew details only three people had access to. Us.”Marcus stopped pacing, eyes locking on Emma. “The same restricted folder you had access to for ‘intel gathering.’”Emma’s stomach dropped. “You think I leaked it?”The silence was damning. After everything saving the company, the confessions, the collar, the parties they still looked at her with that edge of suspicion. The espionage plot that started with Voss had never fully died. Now it was back, biting harder.“We don’t think,” Marcus said, voice dangerously low. “We’re confirming. And you’re going to prove your innocence the hard way.”They didn’t take her to the penthouse. They used t

The underground parking garage beneath Apex Tower was mostly empty at 8:45 p.m. Emma’s heels echoed sharply as she walked toward the reserved spots where Marcus and Ryan waited. The weekend training still lingered in every step her ass tender, throat slightly sore, body humming from five days of orgasm denial. The day collar felt heavier than usual under her silk blouse.She never made it to the car.“Emma Thompson.”The voice came from behind a concrete pillar. A tall man in an expensive navy suit stepped out late thirties, sharp features, cold blue eyes. Victor Lang, Harlan Voss’s new right-hand executive. He’d been circling Apex for weeks.“I have something you should see.” He held up his phone, screen glowing with partial screenshots: emails from the restricted folder, timestamps matching her access, and a blurry photo of her leaving the building late with a USB drive. It wasn’t enough to prove anything, but it looked damning.Emma’s blood ran cold. “That’s not”“Save it,” Lang cu

Emma knew exactly what she was doing.It was a small rule nothing in the original contract or the new “wife protocols,” but one they’d reinforced during the cabin weekend like gospel. She was never allowed to touch herself without permission. Not even to adjust the plug. Day eight of what should have been the end of her denial, and here she was, deliberately breaking it in the executive bathroom during lunch.She didn’t even try to hide it well. The door she left ajar, just a crack for anyone with eyes on the building’s security feeds to see. She leaned back against the marble sink, heels clicking against the floor as she rolled her hips once, twice, then pressed her palm firmly between her legs. The plug shifted inside her, sending a sharp spark of heat straight to her core. A low moan escaped her throat loud enough, deliberate enough. “Fuck,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone, but the cameras would catch every syllable.Twenty minutes later, the door to the executive suite