Semua Bab The Devil In A Suit: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Cassiel’s POVI placed my phone down on the desk, fingers tightening for a brief second before releasing. My gaze stayed fixed on the cityscape beyond the massive glass windows, but my mind wasn’t on the skyline.Julian had almost gotten inside.Too close.I exhaled through my nose, my jaw tightening. I should have anticipated this. Julian wasn’t a fool—he was stubborn, perceptive, and far too reckless for his own good. It had only been a matter of time before curiosity led him where it shouldn’t.But not yet.He wasn’t ready. Julian sure as hell wasn’t ready.The next time he gets that close…A muscle twitched in my jaw. I didn’t like dealing with threats — not when it came to Julian. But there were lines even I wouldn’t allow to be crossed.My fingers drummed against the desk. I’d have to handle it.And then the door flew open.Not violently. Not the way an enemy would enter.But with the kind of audacity that belonged to only one person.I didn’t move. I heard the sharp click of h

I glanced at the darkened skyline beyond my office window, loosened my tie and was about to pour myself a drink when my phone buzzed. I answered after noting the caller ID was from the penthouse and tensed. The maids only called me if there was an emergency. Julian I snatched it up. “Speak.” A hesitant female voice came through the receiver. “Sir, it’s Lucia.” I frowned. One of the maids. “What is it?” “It’s about Mr. Julian.” My grip on the phone tightened. “What about him?” Lucia hesitated. “He… hasn’t left the bedroom all day, sir. He refused lunch. We tried to coax him, even Mrs. Rojas spoke to him, but he won’t eat.” My eyes darkened. Mrs. Rojas was one of the older maids, a woman with a voice as warm as fresh bread and the patience of a saint. If Julian had refused even her— I exhaled slowly, my jaw ticking. “Prepare dinner,” I ordered. “I’ll be home soon.” “Yes, sir.” I hung up and immediately turned to Enzo, who was still lounging in the sofa across f

Third POVThe club was alive.Heavy bass throbbed through the floors, shaking the air with a rhythm designed to make you forget the outside world. Strobe lights flickered, painting everything in flashes of electric blue and crimson. A den of indulgence. A place where power met pleasure.Cassiel Morelli sat in the VIP section, untouched by the chaos. He wasn’t exactly keen on facing Julian after the chaos that had erupted today because he would ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer.A glass of whiskey rested in his hand, but he barely sipped it. Across from him, Enzo lounged on the black leather couch, two women draped over him, their laughter nothing more than background noise.“You look miserable,” Enzo remarked, swirling his drink.Cassiel’s fingers tapped against his glass. “I’m fine.”Enzo smirked. “Liar.” He leaned back, stretching his arms. “We came here to unwind, but you look like you’re planning a massacre.”Cassiel finally took a sip. “Maybe I am.”Enzo chuckled, shaking h

Third POVSunlight bled through the heavy curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. The warmth should have been comforting, but to Julian, it was an unwelcome disturbance.He groaned, stretching lazily before his brain caught up with his body. His hand moved toward the bedside table, fingers brushing the cool surface as his eyes flickered open.The clock glared at him.11:24 AM.Julian froze.His sleep-fogged mind struggled to process it. He never slept in this late. Ever.A slow breath left his lips. His muscles tensed, that familiar unease creeping over him.And then—Cassiel.His head snapped toward the other side of the bed, only to find it empty.The sheets were undisturbed.The pillow was cool.The bastard had been gone for hours.Julian’s jaw clenched as realization struck.He left without explaining.His fingers tightened around the blanket. His pulse pounded in his ears, heat surging to his face.Then—A string of curses tore from his lips, sharp and livid.“You lying, m

Third POV The warehouse near Cassiel’s private docks was nothing short of a tomb. The dim overhead lights buzzed like dying fireflies, barely illuminating the blood-stained floor beneath them. Rust and salt clung to the air, thick and suffocating. The faint sounds of waves crashing against the docks outside were a cruel contrast to the scene unfolding within these walls. A man was slumped in a steel chair at the center of it all, arms bound behind his back with industrial-strength zip ties. His face was barely recognizable—swollen, bloody, and bruised beyond reason. His breathing came in wet, shaky gasps. Marco stood in front of him, rolling his shoulders as he wiped the blood off his knuckles with a cloth. He had spent the last hour breaking the man apart, but so far, the traitor hadn’t uttered a single useful word. A slow, deliberate set of footsteps echoed through the warehouse. Marco’s lips curled into a smirk. Cassiel stepped inside, Enzo trailing behind him. The moment