Todos os capítulos de A Deal Sealed in Lust: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 5

The crystal chandelier above the dining table hummed with a low, imperceptible vibration, casting fractured light across the silver cut-out dinnerware. My mother was meticulous about the table settings. Every fork had to sit exactly two inches from the edge of the mahogany surface, as if precision could mask the rotting foundation of the Mendez legacy. "Eat your soup, Zee," my mother said softly. She didn't look up from her own plate, her manicured fingers wielding her spoon with practiced grace. "You're picking at it." "I'm not hungry, Mama," I replied, setting my spoon down with a sharp, deliberate clink. Across the length of the table, my father cleared his throat. It was a heavy, raspy sound, laden with the weight of cigars, expensive scotch, and the slow, agonizing collapse of our family's wealth. For months, the quiet tension in the estate had been suffocating. Whispers behind closed doors, late-night phone calls that ended in slammed receivers, and the sudden disappearance o

The sharp, decisive strike of the auctioneer’s gavel was still echoing through the grand ballroom, but to me, it sounded like a cell door locking into place. Around us, a polite ripple of applause swelled. The elite crowd, draped in tailored tuxedos and diamonds, craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the man who had casually dropped a million francs on an understated piece of jewelry without a single flicker of hesitation. "If you will excuse me, Zee," Sebastian murmured, his voice a low, smooth purr beside my ear. "Duty calls." I stood frozen as he turned and strode toward the mahogany stage. He moved with a predatory grace that commanded the room, every line of his tall, dark silhouette radiating absolute authority. The crowd parted naturally for him, murmuring in breathless, hushed tones. "Is that Sebastian Morgan?" a woman near the champagne fountain whispered loudly enough for me to hear. "Look at who he was standing with," her companion replied, fanning herself with an e

The clock on the dashboard read 2:14 AM. Rain lashed against the windshield in violent, relentless sheets, the wipers slapping back and forth in a frantic, useless rhythm. The highway stretched out ahead of me like a black ribbon winding through the dark Swiss pines. I pressed my foot harder against the accelerator, my heart hammering against my ribs so violently I could feel it in my throat. I had snuck out through the servants' entrance while the house was drowned in sleep, carrying nothing but a small leather duffel bag, my passport, and whatever cash I could scrape together. I couldn't stay in that house a second longer. I couldn't exist as a bargaining chip, waiting for Sebastian Morgan to drag me into his golden cage. My hands shook against the leather steering wheel. Reaching over with one trembling hand, I unlatched my smartphone from its mount, tapped open the voice memo application, and pressed record. "I hate them," I whispered into the quiet cabin of the car, my voice