جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 10

GenevieveThe air inside Tristan’s penthouse smells of heavy mahogany wood, expensive cigars, and the sharp, undeniable scent of wet sex. I don't make a sound. I stand right in the dark gap between the heavy velvet drapes and the floor-to-ceiling glass panel, my breath hitched in the back of my throat, my fingers digging into the palm of my hand so hard my nails cut through skin. I brought his favorite dinner. The paper bag from the Italian place down the street is still resting on the marble console table outside in the foyer, but I am in his private study now. And my fiancé, the man whose ring sits heavy and cold on my left finger, is bending his female best friend over his polished desk. "Tristan... oh God, Tristan," Chloe gasps. Her hands are planted flat against the smooth, dark wood, her spine arched so far back her spine dips into a deep curve. Her designer skirt is pulled up past her waist, bunched around her hips like trash, her silk panties dangling uselessly off one bare

Genevieve When Tristan sent his morning text pretending to be stuck working late with Chloe, I didn't reply. Instead, I waited until 5:00 PM to call him back, my voice dripping with calm, polished sweetness as I suggested we meet for dinner at Vesper, the city’s most exclusive, ultra-dim lounge known for its dark leather booths and heavy floor-length tablecloths. Tristan jumped at the chance, but he couldn't resist adding his own twist: "Awesome, babe. Hey, Chloe’s still at the office helping me finish up these files. Mind if she tags along? Just to grab a quick bite." "Not at all," I replied, staring out the floor-to-ceiling glass window of Julian’s penthouse while Julian’s hands rested possessively on my waist. "Actually, I brought a guest, too. Julian’s joining us." The hesitation in Tristan’s voice was instant, but he didn't dare object. Two hours later, we were seated in a secluded, velvet-draped corner booth at Vesper. The lighting was notoriously low, ambient amber candles

GenevieveThe brass latch rattled violently in the frame, the metallic click reverberating through the kitchen like a gunshot. Cold sweat broke out along my spine, every nerve ending in my body screaming in high-alert panic. My heart hammered against my ribs with such force that I was certain Tristan could hear it through the thick mahogany paneling.Julian did not flinch. With agonizing, fluid grace, he pulled his face back from between my thighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in one swift, deliberate motion. His dark eyes locked onto mine with a look of pure, possessive victory, a dark glint lurking in their depths that proved he had thoroughly enjoyed every second of pushing me to the absolute edge of exposure. Without uttering a single sound, he stepped off to the side, melted into the deep shadows near the rear pantry, and pushed through the heavy service door. The quiet click of the latch resetting behind him signaled his complete escape into the dark back hallway j

GenevieveThe metallic rings shrieked against the brass rod as the heavy velvet curtain yielded half an inch. Chloe’s manicured fingertips, painted a sharp crimson, hooked around the thick fabric, ready to pull it wide open and expose the mirror-lined sanctuary to the entire VIP lounge."Genevieve? I'm coming in to check the fit."Panic shot through my veins, hot and volatile, but my survival instincts seized absolute control. Before she could pull the drape an inch further, my hand shot out from behind the heavy velvet. I grabbed the fabric directly above her fingers, wrenching it backward with a sharp, violent tug that locked the curtain tight against the brass frame once more."I don't need your help, Chloe," I snapped, my voice ringing out with an icy, razor-sharp authority that sliced through the silent luxury showroom. "Back off."The silence outside the booth was instantaneous and absolute. Chloe froze on the other side of the velvet barrier, her hand stiffening against the mat

Genevieve. My thumb froze over the phone screen, the pale light illuminating the dark master bedroom of the coastal estate. I zoomed in until the pixels strained. The image was sharp enough to read the crisp white lettering painted on the sleek tail fin visible in the floor-to-ceiling glass panel behind Tristan’s shoulder: N702J. It was Julian’s primary long-range aircraft, the exact plane that had flown me out to this private sanctuary forty-eight hours ago. Tristan was lying through his teeth about being locked in a dreary corporate conference room in downtown Chicago. He wasn't in Illinois at all. He was at the exclusive luxury airfield resort just across the private bay, barely three miles from where I was currently lying naked in Julian’s bed. He had flown Chloe out under a shell company account, completely unaware that he had set up his illicit retreat right under the shadow of the man who was currently replacing him in every way that mattered. A slow, vicious curve touche