All Chapters of A DEAL WITH THE BILLIONAIRE: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

************* Kalmia probed, "Okay baby, what do we do now?" a lilt of curiosity and little anticipation in her voice. The words had barely settled in the air between us, suspended in that moment of expectation, and she waited for my response. Her expressive eyes were surveying mine, glittering with hope, inspiration, and insight. I paused for a second to marshal my thoughts, sifting through instances.. The silence suspended in the air held the anticipation alive. Finally, I answered, my voice heavy and slow, "I don't know." These words came out like molasses, rich and thick as syrup, while I weighed my thoughts to determine what, if anything, we were going to do. Kalmia’s eyes were still on mine; encouraging and shining with expectation were those eyes. Softly and encouragingly, she urged me on: "First of all, let me call my friend, yeah, you are right, please do that." The words came in a smooth rush, gentle yet full of hope and promise. Her fingers moved swiftly and surely over

KALMIA’S POV In that moment, when he closed the distance, my eyelids began to stretch open wide, and my heart raced with doom. My heart traveled through my mind, but my feet were frozen in place. He came to a halt only when he reached my position. His hands slapped on the sides of my body against the wall, effectively trapping me. It made me horrified as well as angry to realize that I was cornered. "What are you up to, Mr. Man?" Drawing on every ounce of my control not to tremble, I demanded. In reply, he merely broke into a wicked laughter, a sneer stretching his lips that sent ice through my veins. I might have exploded at that moment, a kettle boiling over from a stove that had been left unattended. I was so angry, I didn't think before pushing him with all my strength. My hands hit his chest, and he stumbled backward, crashing against the table. The table couldn't take the weight, splintering and sending fragments flying outwards. Like I had a vision of his demise, heartre

************* We were just halfway through supper when we were suddenly struck by a scream that rented all the air and shattered the meal. The words spoken, of course, were almost inaudible; yet the tone was unmistakably clear-an expression of despair and anguish, full of dread, and very quickly sending a chill through my spine. "Who's that?" I asked Jacob quickly, with eyes wide open in curiosity and concern, my head turning toward him with expectation to know who could be crying. I waited, leaning over the table on my elbows, with my fingers tightly entwined, for Jacob to complete his response while the argument persisted and became more raucous, stubborn as a mule, my anxiety feeding upon it. While Jacob's eyes flicked almost afraidly towards the window, he breathed, as "I don't know, madam," he said, "Maybe it's that stranger.” Suddenly, I remembered that the odd man was still in the compound, and an ill-restrained smile crept over my face. A shock from the stranger seemed funn

"I miss you so much, darling," I whispered, hardly audible. "I feel like kissing you right now," I added, my tone having an odd quality, verging on confession. Anticipation clung in the stillness all around us, the kind of omen that suggested it was hammering within every nerve of my being. I could almost visualize Arrow just beside me, his lips a hair's breadth from mine, his breath humid against my skin. In that comforting low voice, Arrow said, "Please take a seat on the bed," his words echoing over the phone. Even so, his voice sheltered me somewhere where a warm summer breeze often walks by, couraging sensations, making me feel secure about that moment wrapped around his arms. His voice was the balm for my aching soul, granting comfort and certainty despite all odds of distance. Despite the fact that you were clung to a nurturing embrace, still conjuring up that memory of an enormous love- cuddling arms. Going to sleep with him, eyelids heavy and body almost melting into what fe

********** He seemed to feast like one who had a taste for death and had come to the end of all good food. With closed eyes and a face wreathed upward, he savored every chomp, every scent, and the very essence of the food. Slowly but surely-really almost in the fashion of a gentle caress-every morsel found its way to his throat, onwards to his belly, almost as if it were a seduction act. Much thanks, my dearest. The voice was so soft, and the words seemed so genuine that I can almost believe he meant it. Like a gentle stream, the words came from him, flowing endlessly, unabated, as if choking would kill their flow. Who are you? I spoke without delay, my tone firm yet coaxing, attempting to extract the truth gently without pushing him away. You will talk, or we will call the cops, Jacob issued with a threat, his very deep voice sounding authoritative and intimidating, daring the man to contradict the threats. The words hung in the air with an unmistakable weight, like Jacob was tell