Chapter 347
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Chapter 347:
Four massive men in identical black suits stepped out, their faces carved from stone. They moved with terrifying, silent efficiency. The security captain issued no warning and asked for no compliance. He stepped up behind Kieran, seized his tailored jacket by the collar, and wrenched his right arm up behind his back.
Kieran let out a sharp gasp as his shoulder joint popped.
The captain pressed him face-first into the expensive silk wallpaper.
“I am the heir to Douglas Tech!” Kieran spat, his cheek crushed against the wall. “Take your hands off me p>
The captain drove his knee into Kieran’s lower back. A blinding pain shot down his spine. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. His legs went weak.
“Pick up the trash,” the captain told his men, his voice completely flat.
One guard scooped up the shattered phone and tossed it into the elevator. Two others grabbed Kieran by his armpits and dragged him backward, his leather shoes scraping uselessly against the carpet, and threw him into the elevator like a bag of rubbish.
Inside the suite, Jocelyn stood leaning against the entryway wall, listening to the muffled shouting fade into silence. She let out a long, shaky breath. The toxic weight that had suffocated her for years finally lifted from her chest.
Gaston stepped closer. He raised his hands and gently cupped her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones, his dark eyes searching hers for any trace of regret.
“Was I too cruel?” Gaston asked, his voice a low rumble.
𝗗𝗶𝘀𝘤𝘰v𝘦𝗿 ո𝘦w 𝘴𝘁𝗼𝘳i𝘦𝗌 𝘰𝘯.с𝗼𝘮
Jocelyn looked up at him. A cold, dismissive smile touched her lips.
“His arrogance makes me physically ill,” she said flatly. “I never want to see his face again p>
The tension in Gaston’s jaw vanished instantly. He lowered his head and captured her lips, backing her into the wall, his body pressing her into the silk wallpaper with slow, devastating heat. He was fully prepared to carry her straight back to that tangled bed.
A sharp, piercing alarm cut through the suite.
Not a ringtone. The encrypted satellite phone on the glass coffee table.
Gaston broke the kiss and cursed quietly. He crossed the room, snatched the phone, and answered.
“Speak,” Gaston commanded, his voice shifting instantly back to the ruthless Wall Street predator.
Jocelyn watched his face. Slight color drained from his tanned skin. She could hear the frantic, high-pitched voice of his European President bleeding through the speaker. The ten-billion-dollar Frankfurt merger was collapsing. “If you are not at the table in six hours, they will trigger the default clause p>
Gaston’s eyes turned to ice. He switched to flawless, rapid-fire German and issued three brutal commands that cut through the panic on the other end of the line like surgical strikes. He hung up and threw the phone onto the sofa.
He turned to Jocelyn. A heavy, agonizing guilt moved through his eyes.
He had just claimed his wife. He had just torn down the final wall between them. And now he had to walk out the door.
Jocelyn did not pout. She did not complain.
She walked to the armchair, picked up his discarded white dress shirt, and brought it to him. She held it open.
“Put it on,” Jocelyn said, her voice steady and absolute.
Gaston stared at her, his chest rising and falling.