Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 61 - Chapitre 70

SEBASTIANThe Westbridge project had been sitting on my desk for weeks, surrounded by marked-up pages, revised figures and enough legal notes to make anyone question why they had agreed to it in the first place.By nine that morning, I was already in my office with the final version of the agreement open on my screen. Only a few points remained before Sterling Holdings and Blackwood Group could officially begin the joint project, but I knew better than to assume they would be easy. Neveah had a habit of finding what I overlooked, and I had a habit of doing the same to her.It was one of the few things about working with her that had remained exactly the same.We could sit across from each other for an hour, agree on ninety percent of a plan and still spend twenty minutes arguing over the remaining ten.My assistant had placed the final documents on my desk before eight. I had gone through them twice before Neveah arrived and was halfway through the third review when there was a knock

NEVEAHThe first sign that something was wrong with Sebastian Blackwood was that he held the door open for me without making a single insulting comment.The second was that he wished me a good morning.The third was that he did both while looking as though he had spent the night preparing for a job interview.I stopped in the doorway of the dining room and studied him.He stood beside the table in a perfectly pressed shirt, one hand resting on the back of a chair, his expression composed enough to make a portrait painter weep with gratitude. His phone lay beside his plate, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. Nothing about his appearance was particularly unusual. Sebastian had always been annoyingly presentable, even when doing something as ordinary as complaining about the weather. It was his behaviour that made me suspicious."Good morning, Neveah," he repeated when I didn't move.I blinked.He raised an eyebrow. "Are you waiting for an invitation?""I'm trying to establish wh

NEVEAH For several seconds, I forgot how to breathe. Sebastian's lips were on mine, his arm firm around my waist, and his wet shirt was doing an excellent job of making sure I felt every drop of rainwater he had brought into the house. None of that mattered as much as the impossible fact that my husband was kissing me. Sebastian Blackwood. My childhood nemesis. My professional rival. The man who could turn a disagreement about the placement of a chair into a debate about common sense. That Sebastian was kissing me as though he had made a decision and had no intention of reconsidering it. My hands, which had been pushing against his chest, went still. I couldn't decide whether to shove him away, demand an explanation, or ask whether he had finally lost his mind. Before I could settle on any of those options, he drew back just enough to look at me. His expression was strange. Not smug, not amused, and certainly not the expression of a man who had just won an argument. He looked a

NEVEAH The first thing I did that morning was check on Sebastian. The second was discover that he was no longer in bed. I stood in the doorway of his bedroom, staring at the empty mattress with growing disbelief. The blanket had been folded back neatly, and the pillows were arranged as though someone had made a deliberate effort to leave no evidence of having slept there. His phone was missing from the bedside table, and the bathroom door stood open. For a man who had fainted less than a day ago because he had been overworking and barely sleeping, Sebastian seemed remarkably committed to making my life difficult. I walked into the room and checked the bathroom, even though I could already hear faint sounds coming from downstairs. Then I turned around and marched towards the staircase. Of course he was downstairs. Of course he had decided that the doctor's instructions were merely suggestions. And of course he had found a way to make himself comfortable before attempting to retur

NEVEAHThe first thing I heard when I walked into the kitchen the following morning was Sebastian saying, "Good morning, beautiful."I stopped in the doorway.Then I slowly backed out.Perhaps I had entered the wrong room. Perhaps I was still asleep and my brain had decided to punish me with a particularly unpleasant dream. Or perhaps Sebastian Blackwood had finally lost his mind."Neveah."I closed my eyes."Don't call me that.""Call you what?""Beautiful."There was a brief silence."Would you prefer gorgeous?"I turned around.He was sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. He looked perfectly composed, as though he hadn't just committed a crime against my peace of mind."Have you been drinking?""Coffee.""Anything stronger?""Not yet. Would you like me to get you something?"I stared at him.He smiled.I had been married to this man for nearly two months. For nearly two months, I had endured his sarcasm, his competitive nonsense, and