Lahat ng Kabanata ng STEEL'S CURVY SIN & SECRETS: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

BOYCEThe phone was slick in my hand with the sweat of my palm, my voice cutting sharp through the stillness of my office."Non mi importa più," I spat into the receiver, pacing. I don't care anymore. "Ho finito. Ho finito con tutto questo gioco."The other one stuttered something, pleading, but my fury had already taken flight. "No. Mi hai sentito. Io vado per la mia strada adesso. Lei… lei era l'unica che non mi ha lasciato. L'unica. Non le farò mai del male."My throat closed over the words, but I got them out. "Mi ha dato la forza di restare vivo. Di combattere. E tu vuoi che io… che io lo distrugga?"A bitter laugh exploded from me. "Allora fallo tu stesso. Colpiscilo tu."The voice mounted, demanding, threatening. I lost my temper. "Non chiamarmi più. Mi hai capito? Mai più."I slammed the phone onto the desk so hard the screen cracked.Keith, my head bodyguard, stood by the door, arms folded, inscrutable as always. He'd heard it all, of course. He always did."Okay, sir?" he sa

KEITHNo one pays no mind to the quiet ones, they believe they're harmless so they never let them see 'em in plain sight thinkin' they're harmless when they can do the most kind of harm. That's how I survive.Sit in the background long enough, you ain't a man no more, you're furniture. A chair. A wall. A shadow. That's what Boyce likes best about me. That's why he keeps trusting me.But Sin? She's the only person who doesn't make me lose myself somewhere but keeps me on my toes because she's the same me but with a Grenade.Each time I open the car door for her, she says thank you. Each time I walk two steps behind her, she glances up, as if she actually sees me. Doesn't matter if she's in a gown that costs more than I earn in a month or in heels so high they can snap an ankle in two—she makes eye contact and says, "Good evening, Keith."That's power. Not the sort Boyce portrays in politics and thank goodness for everyone she is not a manipulator or else she'd wreak havoc greater than

BOYCEHer laugh—sharp, cold, cutting—rattled in my chest.Sin sat back, one leg crossed over the other, her ankle boot tapping against the floor like a metronome. Everyone stared at her like she was a ticking bomb.She tilted her head, her eyes locking on me. “Go on, husband of mine. You’ve already dragged the whole circus into the open, I already appreciate your candour, don’t stop now. Finish everything you have to say.”Her tone was polite. Almost sweet but I’d been married to her too long not to hear the blade hidden in it.I swallowed hard. “Alright. You want it all? Fine.”I turned to Steel, who looked like someone had sucker-punched him. “Your half-brother Tyler. He’s the one who orchestrated everything—the attack, the bloodshed, the chaos. All of it. He wanted the throne. He wanted control. And he wanted you gone. Permanently.”Steel shook his head. “No Tyler's crazy but not that much. Tyler… Tyler wouldn’t—”“Wouldn’t what?” I snapped. “Wouldn’t stab you in the back? He alrea

STEELAfter several discussions with my legal team, my dad, calling Church, with the boys and their mother still ignoring me I've been backed to a bad corner so I decided to come out with Knox to meet with Boyce my arch nemesis who surprisingly happens to be my cousin-karma absolutely adores me cause the beautiful bitch keeps throwing crazy curves at me so I choose a private low key coffee shop, just the kind of place where men who were too tired to pretend came to sit, to breathe, to think.I sat there with Boyce across from me, Knox parked at the edge of the booth like a wall made of muscle. We didn’t belong here. Men like us didn’t belong anywhere soft but it is the most unassuming place we could meet so with his bodyguards somewhere I can't see, Boyce sits calmly across from me.He stirred his coffee with the patience of a saint—or a politician who knew cameras could pop out from anywhere. Keith wasn’t in sight, which was a miracle. The bodyguard always looked like he was a second

JASSONThe first thing you need to know about shooting a music video is that it’s chaos. Lights everywhere, cameras moving like they’re on caffeine, people yelling directions over blasting speakers. But that day? Everything stopped. Dead silent. You could hear the air conditioning silently hum like it was part of the soundtrack.And why? Because on the big screen someone dragged into the set, my mother—Sin, Liza, the Liza Boyce—was live on TV, dismantling Sinclair Marquese like she’d been born for combat instead of catwalks.I swear even the director forgot his own name for a second.“Is that… your mom?” one of the backup dancers whispered.I glanced at the screen, then back at her, then back at the screen again. My mother was leaning against a podium, smiling like she had a knife tucked in her heel, words rolling out smooth and lethal.“Yeah,” I said flatly. “That’s her.”The room collectively gasped when Mom delivered the “stay away from the bottle” line. You’d think she’d just drop