Page 78
Story: Twisted Devotion
Just for a moment, I close my eyes.
The cool surface of the table presses against my cheek, grounding me and lulling me further.
I don’t mean to give in, but the pull is too strong.
Before I drift off completely, I hear Nicolas say something in Italian.
The meaning is lost to me, swallowed by sleep.
But his voice lingers—deep, steady—like a whisper threading through my dreams.
When I wake up, I’m no longer sitting in a chair.
The scent of clean linen and him—Nicolas’s cologne, warm and familiar—wraps around me.
I blink, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the curtains.
His arm is draped over my waist.
I push myself up on one elbow, fingers brushing the edge of the duvet. Nicolas shifts beside me, and when I glance over, I find him already watching me.
How long has he been watching me?More importantly—how long have I been asleep?Wasn’t I just in a meeting?
I blink again, memories rushing back—the long table, the men in suits, Nicolas giving orders. And then…the embarrassing part.
“Did… did I fall asleep during your meeting?”
His mouth curves into a slow, knowing smirk.
“You even snored.”
My eyes widen in horror. “Nofuckingway.”
He frowns—almostconvincingly—but his eyes still shine with amusement.
“Remember what I told you?” His voice is smooth, teasing. “I don’t lie to you.Teaseyou? Absolutely.Lieto you? Never.”
I groan, covering my face with my hands.Could I be more embarrassing?Good first impression, my ass.
“So… the meeting is over?” I mumble through my fingers.
“I postponed it,” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Had to bring mysnoringwife upstairs.”
I lower my hands just enough to glare at him. “Youpostponedthe meeting?”
Like he just told me he put his entire empire on hold becauseIcouldn’t keep my eyes open.
Or… isn’t that exactly what he did?
“Yes.” His expression is unreadable, but his voice is steady. Sure.
“I did.”
I sit up fully, smoothing my hair. “Youpaused your empireto take a nap with me?”
Nicolas leans against the headboard, his bare chest on full display.
First of all, why isn’t he wearing a shirt?
The cool surface of the table presses against my cheek, grounding me and lulling me further.
I don’t mean to give in, but the pull is too strong.
Before I drift off completely, I hear Nicolas say something in Italian.
The meaning is lost to me, swallowed by sleep.
But his voice lingers—deep, steady—like a whisper threading through my dreams.
When I wake up, I’m no longer sitting in a chair.
The scent of clean linen and him—Nicolas’s cologne, warm and familiar—wraps around me.
I blink, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the curtains.
His arm is draped over my waist.
I push myself up on one elbow, fingers brushing the edge of the duvet. Nicolas shifts beside me, and when I glance over, I find him already watching me.
How long has he been watching me?More importantly—how long have I been asleep?Wasn’t I just in a meeting?
I blink again, memories rushing back—the long table, the men in suits, Nicolas giving orders. And then…the embarrassing part.
“Did… did I fall asleep during your meeting?”
His mouth curves into a slow, knowing smirk.
“You even snored.”
My eyes widen in horror. “Nofuckingway.”
He frowns—almostconvincingly—but his eyes still shine with amusement.
“Remember what I told you?” His voice is smooth, teasing. “I don’t lie to you.Teaseyou? Absolutely.Lieto you? Never.”
I groan, covering my face with my hands.Could I be more embarrassing?Good first impression, my ass.
“So… the meeting is over?” I mumble through my fingers.
“I postponed it,” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Had to bring mysnoringwife upstairs.”
I lower my hands just enough to glare at him. “Youpostponedthe meeting?”
Like he just told me he put his entire empire on hold becauseIcouldn’t keep my eyes open.
Or… isn’t that exactly what he did?
“Yes.” His expression is unreadable, but his voice is steady. Sure.
“I did.”
I sit up fully, smoothing my hair. “Youpaused your empireto take a nap with me?”
Nicolas leans against the headboard, his bare chest on full display.
First of all, why isn’t he wearing a shirt?
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