Chains, Vows, and the Billionaire’s Touch
Shelves lined the sides, neatly arranged with items that spoke of control and surrender, leather, silk, steel, all waiting in perfect order.
And then him.
Nakaupo ito sa armchair habang nakadekwatro at may hawak na shot glass na kalahati na ang laman. His white shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of muscle and a thin scar trailing down his chest. His eyes, dark as obsidian, lifted to meet hers.
“Lost, Bella?” His voice was deep, rough, touched by a foreign accent—Italian, she realized.
“I— hinahanap ko lang ang exit,” pagsisinungaling niya.
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