Lahat ng Kabanata ng TRAPPED BETWEEN HIM AND WANT: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

Summer’s POV The mansion is quiet, but I feel the weight of it pressing down on me. Every step I take across the polished floors echoes too loudly, reminding me that I am alone here with Alexander. Technically, not alone. He’s just there, watching, always watching. But even that presence feels suffocating. I try to focus on anything else, the rain tapping against the windows, the faint scent of cigar smoke lingering in the study, but nothing can distract me from the thought that has been gnawing at my mind since earlier: the wedding. My wedding. I had barely recovered from the grief of the boy when Alexander had casually dropped the bomb that he told my mother we were getting married. Casually. Like it was just another part of his day, like it didn’t involve my life, my feelings, or my sanity. I sit on the couch in the living room, hugging my knees to my chest. I can feel the bruises from the hospital, the remnants of my stress, but my mind is elsewhere. I glance at the door an

Third Person PoV The dim, sensual glow of the bedroom illuminated Summer's naked body as she stretched out languidly on the plush mattress, a satisfied smile playing on her luscious, glossy lips. She could still feel the ghost of Alexander's touch on her flushed skin, the lingering heat of his breath against her neck. Her body thrummed with the aftermath of their passionate lovemaking, a delicious ache settling between her thighs. After she said to Alexander to rest, Alexander became wild. His body is full of heat. As she slowly came down from her euphoric high, Summer couldn't help but let her mind drift back over the events that had brought her to this moment. It had all started a few months ago, when the handsome, wealthy Alexander had swept into her life like a whirlwind. With his chiseled jaw, piercing green eyes, and rock-hard physique, he was every woman's ultimate fantasy. And Summer had been no exception, quickly finding herself drawn to his magnetic charisma and sinful s

Summer’s POV The next morning felt too still. Too quiet. Like the air itself was waiting. Even the usual hum of the mansion, the soft chatter of the maids, the footsteps in the hallways, seemed muted, almost cautious. I stood near the tall glass windows of the living room, watching the drizzle outside as my heart thumped a nervous rhythm in my chest. Lucien de Rossi. Alexander’s brother. I’d heard his name whispered enough times to know he wasn’t the type of man people forgot. A ghost, some said. A strategist, others claimed. The “shadow” of the de Rossi family. And now, after years away, he was coming home. Behind me, I could hear Alexander’s steady footsteps pacing across the marble floor. He hadn’t said much since dawn, but his clenched jaw and restless hands gave him away. He was never good at hiding emotions, not when it came to his brother. “Are you nervous?” I asked softly, turning to look at him. He stopped pacing and met my gaze. “No.” But the slight flicke

The world outside the car window felt blurred, as if it was grieving with me. Raindrops slid against the glass, soft and relentless, echoing the ache in my chest. I sat between Alexander and Lucien, both silent, both carrying expressions that made it hard to breathe. We were on our way to the hospital, to fix my mother’s cremation papers, but my heart refused to accept that word. Cremation. It felt like betrayal to even think of her as gone. The moment we arrived, I stepped out first. My hands trembled as I walked through the familiar hospital doors. The scent of disinfectant hit me like a wave of memories, of her laughter, of her voice, of the warmth that used to fill these cold walls. Lucien quietly handled the paperwork, his calmness the opposite of the storm brewing inside me. Alexander stayed close, his hand brushing mine, grounding me even in silence. When the nurse approached, holding a white envelope with my name written in my mother’s handwriting, I froze. “This was

Summer’s POV After Alexander left the mansion, the silence that followed felt heavier than before. His presence always filled the air like a storm, commanding, consuming, impossible to ignore. But now that he was gone, it was quiet… too quiet. The guards were still everywhere, stationed near the doors and the garden. I could hear faint murmurs through the hallways, the sound of men talking through radios, boots shuffling against marble floors, but inside the living room, there was nothing except the soft hum of the chandelier above and the beating of my heart. Lucien sat on the couch across from me, his posture relaxed, legs crossed casually as if the entire world wasn’t collapsing around us. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and there was that ever-present spark in his eyes, something unreadable, like he knew things I didn’t. He was so different from Alexander. Where Alexander was fire and command, Lucien was calm and mischief. But there was something beneath that