Burning Passion: The Margaret Mitchell Story นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. Every word had been crystal clear, stabbing straight into her heart. With unsteady steps, she returned to her bedroom. She entered and immediately locked the door behind her, her trembling hands fumbling with the lock. The moment her back touched the door, her tears broke free again. Serena sank to the floor and hugged her knees tightly. That night, she cried harder than she ever had before. All of her pain had piled together into one unbearable weight. The arranged engagement, her mother's illness, her father's indifference, her cruel stepmother, and now Ethan's confirmation that his heart had never belonged to her.

Instead, it was to honor my father's legacy. Before long, the Moretti family returned to its former glory. We became the strongest force in the underworld, and I was known as the coldest, most untouchable woman. The old me died in that fire, yet from its ashes, I rose anew. What the flames didn't consume was my heart. It still burned, but it would ache for no one ever again.

She was gently pushing me away, like she was telling me, without words, to let her be. "Leave me alone... It's so damn hot," she muttered. I knelt beside her. I could hear her breathing fast, and I could feel her body heating up. She tugged at the hem of her dress again while fumbling fingers. It was like she couldn't stand the feel of it anymore. "You need to slow down," I said softly. She didn't answer. Just pulled the dress over her head and let it drop to the floor. I looked away, not because I had to but because I wanted to give her that sliver of dignity she was losing by the second.

"Why do all of this?" "Because I watched you, for days, for weeks on the God damn cameras. Crying in the fucking hallways, arguing with doctors. I watched this strong woman who refused to be told no, who refused to give up, and I became entranced with her. Shit, obsessed with her. But she wouldn't notice me. Not when I tried to speak to her. Not when I sat a few tables away from her in the cafeteria and tried to get her attention. I even came to your shitty fucking job and got waited on by you, and still nothing. And I couldn't fucking figure out why I couldn't get you out of my mind. Why all I could think about were your curves, about having your body under me. About hearing what your moans

Even though I'm a horny girl I still get standards, and trust me they are pretty high. I'm in my current predicament because my business partners thought it would be nice to have our once in every month meeting this time at 'Passion' which they clearly know would be impossible and 'difficult' Passion is what anyone will call rich, expensive and everyone's fantasy. Not only was it built for the rich but even amongst the rich, not every rich person can enter. And luckily all my business partners have access to Passion so they thought it would be the best place this time. But here we are all horny and wanting to be anywhere else but in that hall, we choose to have our meeting.

“That’s… actually impressive.” Margaret doesn’t react. Instead, she says something that changes the entire atmosphere. “But that’s not the real reason.” Adrian’s gaze sharpens. “Then what is?” Margaret looks at him again. And for the first time tonight—her composure cracks slightly. “Because I thought you might love me.” The words land quietly. But they hit harder than the storm. Marcus blinks. “…wow.” Adrian doesn’t move. Margaret continues before anyone else can speak. “I spent two years working beside you.” Her voice is steady again, but there’s something bitter underneath it. “Late nights. Private strategy sessions. Building the legal firewall that kept Reyes Holdings alive.”

“I will teach you about the passion that fuels destiny. Fate isn’t just about the serious and the gloom. It’s also about joy, love, and the fiery passion that drives us forward.” I look at her, curious and slightly apprehensive. The concept of fate always seemed so heavy, so laden with responsibility. The idea that it could also be joyful is both surprising and welcome. This sounded... different. “Passion,” she continues, “is what moves us, what drives us forward. It’s the spark that ignites change, the flame that warms the cold march of destiny. You, as a Spinner, need to understand this passion, to weave it into the threads you spin.”

His whispered promptings fueled the fire that already burned within me, tempting me to push the boundaries of our passion. I swept Taya up into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist as I strode towards the couch, the nearest haven for our all-consuming passion. The air was electric with tension, our mutual desire a palpable force that drove me to claim her. I knew she wanted me just as fiercely, her soft moans and eager kisses fueling the fire that raged within me.

A desperate, fragile spark. "The hellfire… It's a part of you," Misha continued, her voice soft but firm. "It's your will, your passion, your righteous anger. Reach for that. Don't let the void take that from you. Not yet." I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to push past the encroaching emptiness. Focus. Will. My Misha. My children. This was not about me. It was about them. The thought, the pure, unadulterated love, was a tiny, precious flame. I reached within, deeper than I thought possible, past the cold, past the numbness, searching for the core of myself that had always burned.