LOVE! WHY NOW!

Poisoned Trust

The Tribeca penthouse felt colder than usual that night, even with the city lights sparkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The Hudson River below moved like black ink under the moon, small waves catching reflections from passing boats and the distant Brooklyn Bridge. The infinity pool on the terrace glowed soft blue, its water rippling gently in the cool night breeze.

The air inside carried the faint scent of leftover Thai food from earlier and the lingering trace of Damien’s cologne, wood and spice that now made Bethany’s stomach twist with suspicion.

Bethany stood on the terrace in a silk robe, the cool wind brushing against her bare legs. Her body still hummed from the urgent, angry s*x with Damien earlier, the way he had lifted her onto the railing, the deep, possessive thrusts that made her moan his name, the bite on her neck that left a small, tender mark.

She could still feel the warmth between her thighs, the way her va**na had clenched around him as they both came.

But the pleasure now felt tainted. The anonymous message had shattered the moment: “Damien is lying. He was the one who ordered the toxin.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, the silk robe sliding against her skin. The city below continued its endless rhythm, distant horns, laughter from a rooftop bar somewhere, the low hum of traffic. It all felt so normal while her world was falling apart.

Damien stepped out behind her, still shirtless, his muscular chest catching the moonlight. “Bethany, talk to me. That message… it’s someone trying to turn us against each other.”

She turned to face him. The spark between them was still there, dangerous and magnetic. “Then prove it. Show me you’re not part of the Shadow Board.”

Damien moved closer. His blue eyes darkened with a mix of desire and frustration. “I already have. I’ve risked everything to help you.”

He pulled her into his arms, his hands sliding under the robe to cup her full tender br**sts. His thumbs brushed her ni**les, making them harden instantly. Bethany gasped, her body responding even as her mind screamed caution.

The kiss was fierce. Damien’s tongue invaded her mouth, claiming her. He backed her against the glass wall of the terrace, the cool surface pressing against her back. He dropped to his knees, pushing the robe open. His mouth found her br**sts first, sucking one ni**le hard while his tongue flicked the sensitive tip.

Bethany moaned, her hands in his hair. He moved lower, kissing down her stomach until his mouth reached her wet pu**y.

He licked her cl*t in slow, deliberate circles, then sucked it gently. His tongue dipped inside her va**na, tasting her deeply. Bethany’s legs trembled. She came hard against his mouth, her cries lost in the night air.

Damien stood, removing the rest of his clothes. His thick d**k was rock hard. He lifted her, pinning her against the glass.

He entered her in one deep thrust, stretching her completely. The rhythm was hard and urgent. Each thrust made her br**sts bounce against his chest.

He bit her neck again, leaving another mark. “Tell me you believe me,” he growled, pounding deeper.

Bethany clung to him, her nails digging into his back. “I want to…” She came again, her va**na pulsing around him. Damien followed, filling her with hot c*m as he groaned her name.

They slid down to the terrace floor, breathing heavily. Damien held her close, stroking her hair. “I’m not the enemy, Bethany. Let me prove it.”

But as they lay there, another message arrived on her phone from the unknown number. “Check the London vault tomorrow. The proof against Damien is there.”

Bethany closed her eyes, the warmth of Damien’s body suddenly feeling like a cage.

The next morning, the penthouse was filled with tension. Cassandra and Theo were already working on the new leads. “We need to go back to London,” Cassandra said. “The vault has the final recordings.”

Bethany nodded, her mind still replaying the night with Damien. The pleasure had been real, but so was the doubt.

As they prepared for the trip, a new threat arrived, an anonymous email with a photo of Theo leaving the penthouse the night before, with a red target on his back.

The Shadow Board was done playing games.

The war for BuchForge had just become personal.