Lahat ng Kabanata ng BURN FOR ME.... Mr COLE: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The rain slammed against the glass walls of Cole Tower like it was trying to break in. Sixty floors up, New York looked like a painting. Lights. Cars. People with problems smaller than mine. But my world had shrunk to one room. His office. The air smelled like leather, expensive cologne, and power. The kind of power that buys hospitals, buys judges, buys people. And today, it was going to buy me. Damian Cole sat behind a desk that probably cost more than my apartment. 32 years old. CEO of Cole Industries. Net worth: 4.7 billion. Black suit, white shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to show forearms that looked like they could break stone. Dark hair, slightly messy. A jawline that could cut glass. And eyes. God, his eyes. Black. Cold. The eyes of a man who’d never lost. The man who destroyed my father three years ago. “Stop staring, Ms. Sinclair,” he said without looking up. “It won’t make this easier.” I flinched. Ava Sinclair. That was

Sunlight. Not the harsh kind. The soft, golden kind that slips through glass and makes everything look less broken. I woke up to the smell of cedar and coffee. And to warmth. My hand was still in his. Damian. We’d fallen asleep like that. 2 feet apart turned into 0 inches somewhere between 4AM and sunrise. His arm was around me now. Not tight. Just... there. His chest rising and falling against my back. I didn’t move. I was afraid if I did, this would end. And for the first time in 3 years, I didn’t feel like I was drowning. His breath was warm on my neck. “Morning,” he murmured. Voice rough from sleep. I froze. “You’re awake.” “Have been. For 20 minutes.” A pause. “Watching you.” My cheeks burned. “Why?” “Because you look different when you’re not scared of me.” I turned in his arms. Careful. Slow. He was propped on one elbow, watching me. Hair messy. Shirt still off. Those black eyes weren’t cold. They were... curious. “Don’t,” I whispered.

Friday. 6:00 AM. The city was still asleep. I was already dressed. White again. I couldn’t help it. It was for Liam. Damian was in the kitchen. Coffee in one hand. Phone in the other. He hadn’t slept. I could see it in his eyes. “You ready?” he asked. Voice low. I nodded. Couldn’t speak. My throat was too tight. The car ride was silent. His hand found mine on the seat. Held it. Tight. Cole Private Hospital. 7th floor. Surgical wing. Everything was white. Too clean. Too quiet. Dr. Harris met us. “Mr. Cole. Ms. Sinclair. We’re ready.” “Where’s Liam?” I whispered. “Pre-op. Room 710. He’s asking for you.” I ran. --- Liam was in a tiny hospital gown. IV in his arm. But he was smiling. “Avi! Are you nervous?” “Terrified,” I admitted, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Don’t be.” He took my hand with his small one. “The doctor said this will make me better. Then we can go to the park. And you promised me ice cream.” “I did.” My voice broke. “And I’m keep

*ONE YEAR LATER*The sun was setting over Cole Vineyard. White chairs. Fairy lights. 200 guests. And me, in a white dress. Again. But this time it wasn’t a contract. This time it was real. “Avi! You look like a princess!” Liam ran up to me. Healthy. Hair grown back. No IV. No hospital bracelet. He was 10 now. And annoying as hell. I crouched and hugged him. “You look like a troublemaker.” “Guilty.” He grinned. “Mr. Cole said I can have 3 cakes today.” “Of course he did.” I laughed. The doors opened. And there he was. *Damian Cole.* Black tux. No tie. Hair a little messy like he ran his hands through it. But his eyes... his eyes were only on me. For a second the whole world disappeared. The past year flashed. Hospital rooms. Board fights. Late nights. Whiskey. And love. So much love. He stopped in front of me. “Hey, Mrs. Cole.” “Hey, Mr. Cole.” He took my hands. Kissed my knuckles. “You sure about this? Second time’s a charm?” I smiled.

*2 WEEKS EARLY. 2:17 AM.*Pain. Sharp. White. "Damian." No answer. "Damian!" I was gripping the sheets. Breathing hard. 8 months and 2 weeks. The baby decided to come early. The bedroom door flew open. Damian. Boxers. No shirt. Hair wild. "What's wrong?" "Water broke," I panted. "It's time." His face went blank. For 2 seconds. Then chaos. "Okay. Okay. Hospital. Bag. Keys. Call Dr. Harris—" "Damian." I grabbed his wrist. "Breathe." He looked at me. And I saw it. Terror. Pure terror. "You're okay," I whispered. "We got this. Remember?" He nodded. Once. Then he scooped me up like I weighed nothing. "Don't you dare drop me," I said through gritted teeth. "Never." --- *COLE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 2:43 AM.* Room 711. Same floor as Liam was a year ago. But this time it was different. Nurses. Monitors. IV. Dr. Harris. "She's 6cm dilated. This is going fast." Damian hadn't let go of my hand. Not once. His other hand was gripping the bed rail