All Chapters of His Sinful Desire: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

ERICA When I opened my eyes, the whiteness almost blinded me. The room was so bright it felt unnatural, like stepping into a void. The walls, the ceiling, the sheets—everything was searingly white, almost sterile. A faint, rhythmic beeping filled the air, syncing with the pounding in my head. I blinked a few times, my vision blurry, and tried to move. The slightest shift made my head throb, the pain radiating down my neck. I groaned softly, squeezing my eyes shut. Where was I? The smell of antiseptic answered the question before my brain could catch up. A hospital. I was in a hospital. But why? Then it all hit me at once. Running. The woods. The tree. The crash. Raffael. The memories came in flashes, disjointed and overwhelming. I remembered his voice chasing me through the night, the fear that drove me to keep running, the moment my body slammed into the tree. My stomach turned, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I lifted my hand to touch my head, but something stopped me.

ERICA My chest still heaved, the weight of what had just happened crushing me from the inside out. Clarissa’s words echoed in my ears like a broken record. “You’re nothing but a pest that needs to be exterminated.” She was gone now, but the fear lingered, crawling up my spine and settling in the pit of my stomach. My throat burned from the screams I hadn’t dared to let out. I stared at the door, half-expecting her to burst back in, pillow in hand, ready to finish what she’d started. But instead, it swung open slowly, and a different figure stepped in. Raffael. I didn’t know if I should feel relief or resentment. He strolled in with his usual commanding presence, his eyes sharp as they landed on me. “Still awake,” he said, his voice low but firm. He came closer, his gaze flickering over my face before settling on the untouched tray of food Romano had brought earlier. His expression darkened. “You haven’t eaten,” he snapped, picking up the tray and holding it in front of me like

ERICA DAYS LATER I woke up to the sound of soft footsteps and the faint rustle of papers. My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim morning light streaming through the blinds. The nurse, a middle-aged woman with a warm, maternal smile, was standing by the foot of my bed, clipboard in hand. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she said, her voice cheerful as she checked the machines around me. “Morning,” I replied groggily, my throat dry. She walked closer, holding a tray with a light breakfast—a bowl of oatmeal, a small juice box, and a banana. She placed it on the small table by my bed and began taking my vitals. “How are you feeling today?” she asked, gently pressing a stethoscope to my chest. “Same as yesterday,” I muttered, trying not to flinch at the cold metal against my skin. She chuckled softly. “That’s progress, isn’t it? Now, let’s get you eating. You need your strength.” I eyed the tray with no enthusiasm. My stomach churned at the thought of food. “I’m not hungr

ERICA The fluorescent lights in the club’s washroom buzzed faintly as I leaned over the sink, letting the cold water splash against my face. I gripped the edges of the porcelain basin tightly, my reflection staring back at me through the cracked mirror. My makeup, though still mostly intact, was starting to feel heavy, the weight of my foundation and eyeliner matching the exhaustion I felt in my chest. It had been days since I was discharged, and already I was back here, back to work, trying to pretend like my life wasn’t spiraling. I patted my face dry with a paper towel, taking a deep breath. “You can do this, Erica,” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible over the muffled bass thumping from the lounge. I adjusted my outfit—a glittering black bikini top and matching bottoms, the standard uniform for girls like me here. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the debt hanging over my head, and that was all I needed. My skin prickled under the fluorescent light as I squared my sh

RAFFAEL The low hum of bass pulsed through the club as I stepped inside, my usual calm unraveling with every step I took. The dim lights, the scent of expensive liquor, and the cacophony of voices grated against my nerves tonight. None of it mattered. My focus was on her—Erica. I scanned the room briefly before heading toward the bar, signaling for one of the female staff. She hurried over, her gaze flickering nervously as she met my eyes. “Where’s Erica?” I asked, my voice steady but laced with an edge that warned her not to test my patience. “She’s busy,” the girl stammered, wringing her hands. “She’s in the middle of entertaining a client—” “I don’t care,” I cut her off, my tone dropping. “Bring her to me. Now.” Her face paled, but she hesitated. “S-she’s in the executive lounge,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. I nodded once, dismissing her with a sharp glance. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I turned on my heel and made my way to the executive loung