All Chapters of All Shades of Passion: Chapter 291 - Chapter 300

Mark POVBailey showed up at my apartment at seven on a Saturday evening.She had texted earlier that afternoon, said she wanted to check my kitchen. Nutrition, meal prep, recovery foods. Part of her whole "I'm in charge of everything" plan. I didn't argue.If it got her through my front door, she could inspect whatever she wanted.The buzzer rang. I let her up.When she stepped inside, she stopped.Her eyes moved slowly around the space. The open floor plan. The high ceilings. The floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched across the entire living room, the city skyline glowing orange and purple behind the glass. The kitchen with its marble counters and stainless steel everything. The leather couch that cost more than most people's cars.She didn't say anything for a few seconds."This is your apartment?" she asked."Yeah.""You're nineteen.""I'm aware."She looked at me, then back at the view, then back at me."My first home was a Catholic orphanage," she said quietly. "My brother and

Bailey POVThe week after Lola's interrogation, I buried myself in work.Training sessions with Mark stayed professional. Clean. Disciplined. He followed every instruction, hit every mark, and kept his distance the way I asked him to. No flirting. No lingering touches. No whiskey-fueled kisses on leather couches.We were coach and athlete.Nothing more.At least, that's what it looked like from the outside.On Thursday afternoon, we were at the college track running through a speed endurance session. Mark was on his fifth rep, driving hard through the curve, his form sharper than I had ever seen it.He was improving. Fast. His times were dropping week after week, and the raw talent I always knew was there was finally being shaped into something dangerous.I clicked the stopwatch as he crossed the line."Twenty-two flat," I called out.He jogged back, barely winded."That's a new best," he said."Don't celebrate yet. You've got three more."He grinned and turned back toward the line.T

Bailey POVMark's possessiveness didn't stop after Thursday.If anything, it got quieter but deeper. A hand on the small of my back when nobody was looking. Standing just close enough during water breaks that our shoulders almost touched. Finding excuses to walk past my side of the track when he had no reason to be there.I told myself to shut it down. Told myself to keep the distance I promised I would keep.But every time I opened my mouth to correct him, the words died somewhere between my brain and my lips.So I did the only thing I knew how to do.I buried myself in work.And the universe gave me the perfect reason to.The announcement came during the staff meeting the following Tuesday morning.The USATF Regional Championships were six weeks away. This year, they were being held in Atlanta.Coach Mercer stood at the front of the room, reading through the list of qualifying events, age categories, and entry deadlines. I sat in the back row with my notepad, taking notes, keeping m

Bailey POV3 weeks later.The flight to Atlanta was two hours and fourteen minutes.I know because I counted every one of them.Mark sat beside me in business class, a seat his father had insisted on paying for. His legs stretched out in front of him, earbuds in, head tilted back against the headrest. He was wearing gray sweats and a black hoodie, and he fell asleep twenty minutes after takeoff like he didn't have a care in the world.I didn't sleep.I sat there with my clipboard on my lap, reviewing his race plan for the hundredth time, pretending the warmth of his arm resting an inch from mine wasn't making my skin tingle.This was a work trip.A competition.Nothing more.We landed in Atlanta just after noon. The air hit different the second we stepped outside the terminal. That thick, warm southern heat that wrapped around you like a blanket.Mark grabbed both our bags from the carousel before I could reach for mine."I can carry my own bag," I said."I know you can."He didn't gi

Bailey POV"Your mother," I said. "I haven't heard anything about her."His grip on my hand tightened slightly, and I knew that whatever he was about to say wasn't going to be pleasant."She was a model from Europe. Deutch. Beautiful. The kind of woman who turned heads everywhere she went.""How did she meet your father?""At some athletic gala in New York. My dad was at the peak of his career at the time. Big name. Big money. Big everything. She saw an opportunity and took it."His voice was even, but there was something underneath it. Something old and bruised."They got married fast. Had me a year later. But my dad is... you've met him. He's controlling. Everything has to be his way. His schedule, his rules, his plan. She lasted four years before she couldn't take it anymore.""She left?""She took a fat cheque and went back to the Netherlands. Picked up her modeling career like nothing happened.""How old were you?""Three."The word landed like a stone dropping into water."I did