All Chapters of My Dirty Night Secret : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

ANGELA’S POVThe kiss stole the air from my lungs—deep, a little unsteady, and completely consuming.I didn’t care.His tongue explored my mouth with hungry intensity, and the flutter low in my stomach only grew stronger. My arms wound around his broad shoulders, fingers sliding into the thick, slightly longer strands of his hair. The wild look suited him.He was the first to pull back, breathing hard.“You’re hurt,” he rasped. Scalding heat burned in his eyes—desire, want, need—and underneath it all, clear concern.This was the moment I could have stopped everything, claimed it was only the medication and the whiskey talking. I didn’t.“I’ll be fine,” I whispered.That was all the permission he needed.We had been intimate before—the night I sold him my virginity had been cold, transactional, almost clinical. This was different. His touch was careful, almost feather-light, as if he feared breaking me.His large hand traced from my cheek down the side of my neck, carefully avoiding th

ANGELA’S POVThings had shifted since the night we spent tangled under the covers—subtly, but undeniably. Hanzo had made it his personal mission to keep me in bed until I recovered fully. More often than not that meant he stayed in the bed with me.When we were alone, the mask of the ruthless leader slipped. Each day revealed another fragment of the man beneath: empathy, unexpected kindness, even a quiet sort of integrity. I told him about my love of dance. He taught me to play chess. We joked and laughed like two ordinary people. Whatever small thing I asked for, he saw that it was done.It still wasn’t enough to make me forget. Or forgive.The darker side of him remained—strong, dominant, always present just beneath the surface. I saw it flicker in his eyes whenever the kindness threatened to take over. He never conducted business in front of me, yet every time he returned late with bruised knuckles and a suit stained dark red, the reminder was brutal and clear.He was still a mon

**ANGELA’S POV**Time moved like quicksand, slipping through my fingers faster than I could grasp it.It took every ounce of willpower to pull Katie out of the questions she still wanted to ask. If we ever met again, I would answer everything. Right now I had to get back to the mansion before my absence became impossible to hide. The sickening certainty that it might already be too late twisted my stomach into knots.I shoved the dark thoughts aside and hurried down the deep-red corridors. A cold tingle raced along my spine, raising the fine hairs on my arms.*You robbed a mob boss. You stole his money. He has killed for far less.*I swallowed hard. There was no turning back. If he decided to dump my body at the bottom of the sea, at least I would know it had been for a good reason.Hanzo was vicious when angry. This would make him furious.I rounded a corner too quickly and collided hard with someone solid. The man grunted at the impact. Two figures stood near the exit, and I had sla

ANGELA’S POV**“Breakfast is ready.”Iris’s cheerful voice cut through the dim room. The rich scent of bacon and eggs filled the air, and my stomach answered with an involuntary growl. I lifted my head lazily from the soft pillow.Two days later I was still sore. Hanzo had been true to his word. The night of my “punishment” left my legs trembling even now. He had taken me roughly, again and again—against the wall, on the floor, in the bed, and once more in the shower when I tried to escape the intensity. When I finally collapsed from exhaustion he had leaned over me and quietly reminded me that he could still go further if he chose.My body was covered in the evidence of that night: faint love bites, the lingering scent of his cologne on the sheets, the memory of his hands and mouth claiming every inch of skin. I hadn’t noticed when he left. For some reason the empty space beside me ached more than the bruises.“Thank you,” I murmured, pushing the complicated feelings down where they

**ANGELA’S POV**Death is not supposed to hurt. It is supposed to be a peaceful darkness that simply takes you and lets you forget.But I remembered everything.The old house with the leaking ceiling where I grew up. The warmth of sunlight on my skin. The thick grey clouds of stormy days. And a pair of eyes the color of steel—eyes that reminded me of rain after a scorching summer. They stared back at me from the depths of my memory: sharp, unyielding, and unbearably sad.Then the pain returned, ever-present and brutally real. It lived in every part of my body.Somewhere nearby a machine beeped in a steady, relentless rhythm. The sound grew louder, pulling me away from the fragile images I had been holding onto. A sudden jolt, sharp as electricity, raced through me. My eyes flew open to a room of blinding white light.The brightness was painful and, somehow, welcoming. White ceiling. White walls. White everything.My chest rose and fell. Every breath felt like a thousand knives piercin