Chapter 351
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Chapter 351:
“I went to St. Jude’s,” Jocelyn said, her voice ringing clearly in the quiet lounge. “I saw the red brick wall. I saw the G.C. hidden under the ivy p>
Gaston stopped breathing.
The ultimate secret. Ten years of silent, agonizing obsession. She knew.
Jocelyn looked deep into his stunned eyes.
“You do not have to wait anymore,” Jocelyn said, her voice fiercely absolute. “I was coming to find you. I love you p>
𝗧𝗁е b𝖾ѕ𝘵 𝗋e𝗏𝘪𝖾𝘸𝗌 𝘰n.с𝗼𝗺
A guttural, raw sound tore from Gaston’s throat.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted her entirely off the floor. He crushed his mouth against hers.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was a violent collision of relief, possession, and ten years of starving hunger. He devoured her mouth completely, his tongue sweeping past her lips to claim every inch of her. The airport staff gasped. The bodyguards turned their backs in unison, forming a solid human wall between the couple and any watching eyes.
Jocelyn clung to his shoulders and kissed him back with equal, desperate heat.
Two full minutes later, Gaston finally tore his mouth away. He was panting, his forehead pressed against hers, his hands gripping her waist so tightly it nearly bruised.
“Say it again,” Gaston demanded, his voice a dark, gravelly rasp.
Jocelyn smiled through her tears. She reached up and stroked his rough cheek.
“I love you, husband,” Jocelyn whispered.
The fire in Gaston’s eyes turned instantly into a raging inferno.
He snatched the boarding pass from her hand, tore it into four pieces, and let them fall to the floor. He adjusted his grip and carried her in his arms like a bride, turning and marching straight toward the VIP exit.
“Chen!” Gaston called to his security detail. “Bring the Maybach to the curb. Now p>
His assistant jogged alongside them, looking stricken. “Sir, the board meeting tomorrow morning p>
“Cancel my entire week,” Gaston said, not breaking stride and not looking back.
The black armored Maybach was idling at the curb. Gaston lifted Jocelyn into the back seat and climbed in after her, pulling the heavy door shut. He hit the button on the console. The thick, soundproof partition rolled up and sealed them in complete darkness.
The temperature in the car spiked. Gaston pressed her back into the premium leather, his body covering hers, claiming what was his before the car had even left the airport.
The armored Maybach tore through heavy Manhattan traffic, its massive engine growling like a chained beast.
It did not head toward the Collins penthouse. Gaston knew the penthouse had maids, security staff, and Grandma Wolfe. He needed a territory that was completely, absolutely isolated.
The car stopped at the discreet side entrance of the St. Regis Hotel on Fifth Avenue. The General Manager was already waiting on the sidewalk, sweating slightly, a solid black keycard held in his trembling hand.
Gaston kicked the car door open. He had wrapped his suit jacket entirely around Jocelyn, hiding her flushed face and ruined clothes from the world. He snatched the keycard from the manager without a word, carried Jocelyn through the private service entrance, and stepped into the VIP elevator.