All Chapters of The Billionaire's Curvy Bride: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Morning sun bled through the floor-to-ceiling silk drapes of the master suite, painting the room in warm, golden light.I woke up to the heavy, steady rhythm of Ryker’s heartbeat beneath my cheek. His broad arm was wrapped snugly around my waist, his thick fingers buried in the soft flesh above my hip, anchoring my body flush against his back. He was warm, solid, and entirely unmoving…as if his subconscious refused to let me slip away in the daylight.I moved slightly to stretch my legs, and his grip instantly tightened."Don't," Ryker gritted out, his voice a sleep-roughened growl against my ear. He pulled me back until the full curve of my hips pressed against his thighs. "Stay right here.""The sun is up, Ryker," I whispered, turning my head on the pillow to look at him. "And you have an eight o'clock executive briefing."Ryker opened his eyes. The cold, distant green that used to look at me like an unwelcome obligation was gone. In its place was a dark, liquid heat that tracked ev

Marcus’s loafers clicked rhythmically against the courthouse marble as he strolled away, his laughter lingering in the vaulted corridor like cold smoke.Ryker’s shoulder slammed against a marble pillar, his fists balled so tightly his knuckles turned chalk-white. A storm of raw, lethal fury darkened his eyes to deep forest shadows."He raided Delphine’s office," Ryker growled, his baritone dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register. "His security team seized our internal audit servers ten minutes ago. Every digital footprint Delphine pulled from Zurich is sitting on Marcus's desk.""Let him celebrate," I said smoothly. I didn't flinch. I straightened the lapels of my deep plum blazer, smoothing the structured fabric over the generous curve of my hips and thighs with deliberate, unshakeable poise. I wasn't shrinking. I wasn't defeated.Ryker turned, his massive frame stepping into my space. His large, warm hand cupped my waist, his broad fingers sinking possessively into the soft, su

The silence in the grand boardroom didn't merely linger; it solidified like concrete, heavy and suffocating.The intoxicating high of our victory, the lingering heat of Ryker’s heavy hands against my hips from moments before, the absolute triumph of stripping Marcus of his corporate crown…all of it shattered in the space of a single heartbeat.Ryker stood frozen beside me, his broad shoulders locked so tight the wool of his tailored three-piece suit strained against his back. A muscle twitched violently beneath the pale, carved line of his jaw. His dark green eyes remained glued to the thick parchment bearing the red wax seal of the Lucerne High Medical Council. The hand that had held my waist with such fierce, possessive violence in the holding room now hung limp at his side, as if the life had been drained right out of him.Marcus didn't waste a second. He stood up slowly from his leather throne at the head of the forty-foot obsidian table, adjusting the cuffs of his gray blazer. Th

The morning sun bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the grand dining room, casting long, sharp shadows across the thirty-foot mahogany table.I stood in front of the full-length mirror in our private dressing room, fastening the belt of a dark emerald silk wrap dress. The heavy fabric clung lovingly to the lush, generous curves of my body, pulling tight over the full sweep of my hips and accentuating the deep waist-to-hip ratio I had learned to wear like armor. I brushed my dark hair back in loose, voluminous waves, applied a coat of deep crimson lipstick, and stepped into a pair of black suede pumps.I looked whole. I looked powerful. I looked like a woman who owned her skin, her space, and her life.When I entered the dining room, the heavy atmosphere in the air cut straight through the warmth of the morning light.Ryker was already seated at the head of the table. He hadn't slept. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, the top buttons of his crisp white shirt undone, his b

The morning light felt cold and sharp against my skin as I stood before the gold-framed mirror in my dressing room. I smoothed a hand down the rich, crimson silk of my tailored sheath dress. The custom cut clung impeccably to the heavy swell of my breasts, gripped my narrow waist, and spilled over the lush, unapologetic curve of my hips. I was built like a monument, curves sculpted in power and soft, undeniable grace.I leaned in, sweeping a bold coat of ruby lipstick across my lips, anchoring my strength. I would not shrink. Not for this house, and certainly not for the women trying to bleed me out by a thousand micro-cuts.When I stepped out into the grand hallway, two housemaids were carrying armfuls of my tailored suits out of the master closet, guided by Margaret.My mother stood at the center of the corridor, pointing her manicured finger at a rack of shapeless, oversized gray wool tunics hanging from a rolling valet."Take those fitted dresses out immediately," Margaret ordered