Chapter 276
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Chapter 276:
The bedside lamp cast a warm golden glow over the king-size bed. Gaston was already settled on the right side, reading a thick stack of Mergers and Acquisitions files. He wore gold-rimmed reading glasses that made him look both dangerous and intelligent. His dress shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing the hard lines of his collarbone and the edge of a dark tattoo.
Jocelyn walked to the left side, climbed in carefully, and pressed herself as close to the edge of the mattress as gravity allowed.
“You are going to fall off,” Gaston said, without looking up from his papers. “Move to the center p>
“I am fine here,” Jocelyn said stiffly.
“Move.” A command, not a request.
She gritted her teeth and scooted exactly ten centimeters toward the middle.
A sharp buzz shattered the quiet.
𝗜𝘯𝗍𝘦𝗇ѕ𝗲 𝗋𝘰mа𝗻се 𝗈𝗇
Jocelyn’s phone lit up on the nightstand. The caller ID showed an unknown local New York number. A burner phone.
She frowned and answered. “Hello p>
“Jocelyn. It is me p>
The voice was exhausted, raspy, and desperate. Kieran.
Jocelyn’s blood ran cold. She glanced instinctively to her right.
Gaston had stopped reading. His hands were frozen on the page. His dark eyes cut over the gold rims of his glasses, locking onto the phone in her hand with lethal precision.
“I know the truth,” Kieran’s voice rushed out, panicked and breathless. “Martha told me everything. I know you were the girl in the attic. I know what Aspen did. Please, Jocelyn. Let me see you. Let me apologize p>
The dark, suffocating memories clawed at the edges of her mind — the smell of dust, the panic, the bleeding fingernails. Her stomach twisted into a hard knot.
She gripped the phone tightly. She thought of the years of dismissal, of being called jealous and needy. The name that was once so familiar now felt like a stranger’s, carrying a cold, formal weight.
“Late truth is cheaper than grass, Mr. Douglas p>
She pulled the phone from her ear, pressed the red button, and blocked the number. She set it face down on the nightstand and drew a shaky breath, pushing the memories back into their box.
A loud crack made her flinch.
Gaston had slammed the heavy M&A file onto his nightstand. He reached up, pulled off the gold-rimmed glasses, and set them down with a controlled, contained force that resonated through the quiet room like a small detonation.
He shifted his weight. The mattress dipped.
Then he was looming over her — arms braced on either side of her shoulders, his broad chest blocking the lamplight and casting her entirely in his shadow. His large hand came to her chin, thumb and forefinger tilting her face up, making her meet his eyes. They were pitch black and swirling with an undisguised, violent jealousy.
“He still thinks he has the right to call you,” Gaston said, his voice a terrifyingly quiet rumble. “It seems he doesn’t understand that you are mine. Perhaps I need to remind you exactly whose territory you are in. From now on, this room will only have my voice p>
Before Jocelyn could process the words, Gaston lowered his head and pressed his mouth against hers.