บททั้งหมดของ Keeping a secret from the Greek Tycoon: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

JUSTINAI glared at the phone in my hand as if it might suddenly lunge for my throat. The screen was black, but Victor's voice still prowled inside my head, sly and hungry. Gregor hovered so near I could catch the sandalwood on his skin, his shadow stretching over the counter and swallowing me in cool darkness. He waited, silent, his gaze dissecting my face with the same clinical focus he'd used on my burned palm, searching for cracks, for secrets, for the places where truth seeped out."I don't know," I croaked, my voice raw and splintered. I placed the phone on the granite as if it were a live wire, my fingers shaking against the cold surface. "It sounded like a reporter."Gregor's jaw tightened. "A reporter?""They were asking questions." I spun toward the sink, desperate for something to occupy my hands, and twisted the faucet even though it was already off. My palm pulsed where the gel had dried, tacky against the phone's plastic. "Invasive questions. About my past. They knew abo

GREGORI didn't believe her.I let her walk out of that kitchen thinking I had, kept my face soft while she rattled off that story about a reckless reporter, but the whole time some sharper, more suspicious part of me had been cataloging the gaps in it. No reporter got that comfortable. Not with me. My name alone bought most of them a small window of caution before they went digging, and this one had apparently rattled Justina so badly she'd collapsed on the kitchen floor gasping for air. That wasn't a journalist fishing for a quote. That was something with teeth.I didn't push it, not yet. I recognized the shape of what she was doing, even if I couldn't name the reason behind it. She wanted to handle it herself. Wanted to be the kind of woman who didn't have to run to a man every time something threatened her, and God knew she'd earned that instinct the hard way, alone, for years, before I'd ever entered the picture. But recognizing the instinct didn't mean I trusted it not to get he

CHARISSAThe block felt like a door slamming in my face. I stared at the screen, at the grayed-out name and the small text beneath it saying Gregor Vallis no longer accepted messages from my number. He had cut me off completely. After everything we had shared, after the nights and the promises and the carefully constructed future I had imagined for us, he had pressed a button and erased me from his life like I was spam.My hand shook as I scrolled through my contacts. Nadia was gone. Yannis would not take my call. My own mother had sent me to voicemail, and I had deleted the message without listening. There was only one name left, one person who might still answer because she had not yet had the chance to hate me.I pressed Nyssa's name and held the phone to my ear with both hands, as if that could steady the trembling.She answered on the fourth ring. "Charissa.""Nyssa." My voice cracked on her name. "Thank God. Thank God you picked up. I know you have probably seen the videos, the

GREGORI thumbed the screen awake before I cleared the doorway, my fingers already moving in a rhythm that had become instinct over years of conducting business through glass and silicon. The kitchen opened before me, warm with the smell of batter and butter, but I kept my eyes on the device and navigated to the thread with my Personal Assistant. In true corporate-slave fashion, she had already sent the quarterly reports, despite the mental pushback I had given myself that I would do it the following day. I ignored it and typed fresh words.I need you for something else today.Her reply came fast, the way it always did when she sensed opportunity. Marina had that radar, the kind that had kept her in my employ longer than any assistant before her. And what could that be?I leaned against the counter, my hip finding the edge of the granite while my thumbs worked. Shopping. I need you to take Justina to a boutique. Help her find something appropriate for this evening.The three dots appe

JUSTINAI snatched my bag from the hook beside my bedroom door. The leather straps slid slickly across my palm, the skin still raw from the burn, still tacky with the gel Gregor had carefully spread over the blister.I was halfway down the hall when I spotted Adonis crouched beside the coffee table, lining up action figures I didn't remember ever buying. He arranged them with intense concentration, moving each one into place according to some private logic only he understood. His red shirt had ridden up his back, exposing the sharp, delicate points of his shoulder blades."Come here," I called.He glanced up.Those wide, trusting eyes caught me somewhere beneath the ribs.I dropped to my knees and pulled him into my arms, the hardwood pressing painfully against my knees. He smelled faintly of strawberry jam and that warm, clean scent children carried when they had only just woken up. I kissed his forehead and lingered there, my lips tracing the curve of his skull as though I could som