Accidentally Contracted To The Billionaire CEO의 모든 챕터: 챕터 131 - 챕터 140

Brielle's POV Marcus's gaze meets mine as I step out of the vehicle, his head inclining slightly in a formal nod. “Ms. Monroe.” “Marcus,” I say, deadpan, and he nods solemnly. It's a ridiculous game we play, but I've grown fond of this little dance, this familiar back-and-forth that never gets old. A realization strikes me, a sudden epiphany that halts my journey to the front door. “Well, isn't this a pickle in a jam jar?” I mutter to myself. “This morning, I strode out of this house on a mission—to become a free woman by sundown. Instead, I’m returning, engaged.” The diamond ring on my finger sparkles. I glance at it, feeling a flutter in my chest. No, I won't take it off. It's a symbol of belonging – to someone who's stolen my heart. I spin around, and there's Marcus, waiting. I don't want to keep him hanging around, so I head inside, trying to be all graceful and stuff. Let's just say I'm feeling delightfully… rumpled. As I swing open the front door, a symphony of sizzles

Andrei's POV. My fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to dish out another serving of banter, when a sixth sense alerts me to Paul’s presence. Instinctively, my face shifts from its usual mask of irreverent charm into a serious, professional veneer. Shutting my laptop, I gaze at Paul with interest, “New York… did you conquer the city, or did it conquer you?” Paul chuckles, “I think the city won this round. I got lost in Times Square for an hour, but, it… It was worth it.” “Don't worry. Getting lost in Times Square is just the city's way of saying, 'You're welcome to come back anytime'.” Paul's laughter trails off, and I swiftly shift gears, my expression transforming from amusement to intensity. “Brief me,” “It's not good, boss. Ms. McCarthy's has somehow managed to get on Valtor's radar, and now she's facing some very real and very serious threats.” “They're on her tail?” “More like they're closing in. We're running out of time.” What was she thinking? Getting mixed up wit

Brielle's POV Ivy shoots me a curious glance as we wait for the traffic light to turn green. “Where are you off to, all dressed up?” she asks, her voice competing with the sounds of the morning commute – car engines, chatter, and the wail of sirens in the distance. I chuckle and say, “Just a meeting.” Ivy gives me a skeptical look. Luckily, the traffic light changes, and I drop her off, cutting our conversation short. Today is a whirlwind of meetings. After dropping Ivy off, I kick things off with my accountant, who somehow makes finance fascinating, I know, I'm surprised too. Next, I meet with a business buddy to brainstorm, bounce ideas, and possibly create a few new ones. Post-meeting, I need a caffeine intervention, so I grab a coffee on my way to collect Ivy. We arrive home, and she's having a major stare-down with her reflection, analyzing every strand. Girl's checked herself out so many times, I'm starting to think she's trying to set a new record. Been there, done

Jeremy's POV All nonsense put aside, I slam the map onto the table, “Eyes on me,” I bark, “I don’t have time for screw-ups. “ My hand jabs into the tabletop, each thrust an exclamation point to punctuate the severity of the situation. These morons can be as dumb as a box of rocks sometimes, and the effort it takes to get through to them has my temper running hotter than a desert sun. '“At 0200 hours, the target will land at the Kahului Airport, Maui. The airport is primarily a regional hub, with limited security, which should make our operation smoother than a freshly ironed aloha shirt." I inform my crew, their faces intent as they listen to my debriefing. “Our scouts will monitor the flight’s arrival, keeping a constant line of sight on the target as they exit the plane and enter their transportation. We’ll have an unmarked SUV parked nearby, with the windows blacked out to prevent recognition. The driver will be wear a chauffeur's uniform, his ID on display for anyone wh

Brielle's POV Hawaii's supposed to be a relaxing vacation, for my parents, but for me, it's turning into a never-ending cycle of worry. Mom's phone keeps going straight to voicemail. No calls, no texts, no 'Aloha, darling!' selfies. It's like a full moon, a red sky at dawn, a black cat crossing your path—you just know something's up. I'm phone-stalking, waiting for her call to light up the screen… but it's just not happening. I force down the lump in my throat and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. My nerves are fried, and I'm getting the shakes. I glance at the clock, hoping to distract myself from the tremors in my hands. 3am. Still awake. Still anxious. 'Mom, Dad, just give me a sign of life. I'm starting to picture you being brainwashed by a group of coconut-wielding, hula-dancing fanatics_' My muttered curse is accompanied by a deep, frustrated breath. Andrei's voice cuts through my reverie, and I turn to see him standing in the doorway, a mixture of amusement an