All Chapters of Dangerous Liaisons: Love in the Shadows: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

When I finally stopped, the silence in the room thickened. I could feel my heart racing, the adrenaline still humming in my veins from the strength of my own determination. I waited, watching him, uncertain how he’d react. Then, slowly, something shifted in his expression. A smile began to curve his lips—not just any smile, but one that held a certain weight behind it. It wasn’t the usual smirk he wore when he was amused or pleased with himself. No, this smile was different. It was a smile of approval, of pride. There was something almost darkly encouraging about it, like he was silently acknowledging the fire in me, the resolve that matched his own ruthless ambition. For a brief moment, I saw a glimmer of respect in his eyes, as if he was proud of what I’d become, proud that I was no longer the frightened girl who could be easily swayed or intimidated. He didn’t have to say it out loud, but that smile told me everything. I’d proven something to him in that moment—that I could be jus

His hold was possessive, a silent declaration of what he was capable of when he chose to be. But there was also a softness beneath it, something that felt almost… protective, even if I knew better than to read too much into it. His face was so close to mine now that I could feel the warmth of his breath brushing against my skin. It was an oddly intimate moment, especially given how we usually kept a distance from each other—both physically and emotionally. Our eyes remained locked, the intensity of our stare unbroken. I could see the flicker of something in his gaze—interest, curiosity, maybe even amusement. But behind all that, there was also a hint of danger, the reminder that this was still Clyde, a man who never fully revealed his hand. Neither of us said a word. We just stood there, our bodies pressed together, our gazes boring into each other’s souls as if trying to find whatever truth lay hidden beneath the layers of pretense and manipulation. It felt like a game of who would

But I was lost—completely and utterly lost in the pleasure that had consumed me, in the heat of his touch and the intensity of his gaze. My body had betrayed me, responding to him in ways that I couldn’t control, that I didn’t want to control. And now, with him so close, his hand still pressed against me, I felt powerless to stop what was happening. My eyes locked onto his, pleading silently for him to move, to give me back that overwhelming sensation that had drowned out the guilt and the fear. But he didn’t. He just held me there, his fingers motionless, his expression unreadable. It was like he was testing me, waiting to see what I would do next. And as the seconds dragged on, the tension between us only grew thicker, more unbearable. Desperation welled up inside me, and I tried to move against him, to find the relief that he was cruelly withholding. But as soon as I shifted, as soon as I sought to take control of the situation, he responded by slowly, deliberately starting to wit

Confusion wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket. The rapid shift in Clyde's demeanor left me spinning, unable to anchor myself in the storm of emotions that churned within. I felt a strange, unexpected pang of rejection gnawing at me, a hollow ache that settled in my chest and made it hard to breathe. I had never thought of Clyde in any romantic way—if anything, I was supposed to despise him. Yet, there was no denying the sting of his sudden coldness, the way he had so quickly pulled away as if touching me had been a mistake. The realization was a bitter one, twisting in my gut and making me feel small and unwanted. I didn’t even know I was crying until I felt the warmth of a single tear sliding down my cheek. I blinked, startled, as if that lone tear had betrayed something I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Why was I hurting like this? Why did his rejection feel so personal, so deeply cutting? “Did you not hear me?” His voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and cold. The warmth,

“I'm not coming,” I muttered, my voice muffled by the fabric. “And just so you know, I hate it when not even a mere servant listens to me.” I expected silence to follow, maybe even the sound of retreating footsteps, but instead, I felt the bed shift beneath me. The mattress dipped slightly, the unmistakable pressure of someone sitting on the edge of the bed. My breath hitched, and for a moment, I stayed completely still, as if by some miracle, they might not notice I was there. I lay there, my back turned, seething quietly beneath the sheets. How dare she enter my room after I’d explicitly told her to leave? Who did she think she was? I could feel my frustration bubbling up, ready to spill over. But then, a voice broke through the silence—low, smooth, unmistakably his. "No one dares to even breathe in this house if you tell them to do otherwise," Clyde said, his tone laced with a confidence that sent a chill down my spine. My eyes flew open, the fabric of the sheet suddenly feel