All Chapters of Romance In The Mansion: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The aroma of fried plantain hit me before my alarm even had a chance.I lingered in bed for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling and trying to piece together why my limbs felt like lead. Then, the weight of reality settled in: The new job. Voss. That cryptic balcony conversation. My life was apparently a magnet for complicated men, and business was booming.Groaning, I rolled over and checked my phone. Two unread messages: Mira: If your boss is ugly, quit immediately.I snorted. Typical. The second message was from an unsaved number, but the tone gave the sender away instantly.Unknown: Eat breakfast before work.I stared at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard.Me: Did my mother hire you?No reply. Of course.The Kitchen InquisitionBy the time I’d showered and pulled on a fitted black shirt and grey trousers, the apartment smelled heavenly. My stomach gave an undignified growl."Mom?""In the kitchen!"I found her swaying to old highlife music in a floral robe, looking

Outside the office windows, the rain didn’t just fall; it hammered against the glass in heavy, rhythmic waves, turning the city lights into a blurred watercolor of neon and gray. Normally, I found the rain soothing. Tonight, it felt like a warning.I followed Voss toward the elevators, hyper-aware of the eyes tracking us. Tessa, our receptionist, was failing miserably at her "busy" act. I caught her eye and pointed a finger. "Go home, Tess.""Text me," she mouthed, a shameless grin spreading across her face."There's nothing to text," I lied. The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off her reply and plunging us into a heavy, pressurized silence. It wasn’t awkward—it was just... thick."You know everyone in this building is terrified of you, right?" I asked, leaning my shoulder against the mahogany paneling."They’re dramatic," he replied, his gaze fixed on the floor numbers."You stared at a printer tech until he apologized for existing.""He installed the tray incorrectly."The laugh e

AaronBy Friday, I had learned something very important about office jobs.Nobody actually worked on Fridays.People pretended to.There was a huge difference.Half the office spent the morning walking around with coffee cups, gossiping in low voices, or staring blankly at spreadsheets while mentally preparing for the weekend.Even I felt lighter.The week had been exhausting, but good.Normal good.No kidnappings. No gunshots. No secret compounds.Just emails and meetings and Tessa constantly trying to investigate my nonexistent love life.“You’re smiling at your phone,” she accused.I looked up from my desk. “I’m replying to my mother.”“That’s exactly how emotional affairs start.”I stared at her.“You need therapy.”She shrugged. “Probably.”My phone buzzed again.Mom: Buy bread when you’re coming home.I smiled slightly.Me: Okay. Anything else?Mom: Yes. A rich husband.I nearly dropped my phone.Tessa leaned over instantly. “What happened?”“My mother is insane.”“Love that for

“What is getting worse?” I asked, the words out before I could stop them.Celeste closed the door with a click that felt entirely too final. She leaned against it, looking between us like she was settling in for the season finale of a messy drama. “You two,” she said simply.Voss let out a breath that sounded like he was already exhausted by the conversation. “Why are you here, Celeste?”“Such a warm welcome. Truly.”“You walked in uninvited.”“And yet, here I am. Amazing how doors work, isn't it?”I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, to keep from laughing. Celeste caught it instantly. She pointed a manicured finger at me. “Oh no. You’re starting to enjoy him.”“I am not.”“That denial lacked conviction, honey.”Voss ignored her, moving back toward his desk with that predatory grace that usually made me nervous. Now, it just felt familiar. “What do you want?”Her expression shifted. The playful edge didn't disappear, but it sharpened into something professional—and serious. “There’s b

I swallowed hard, the plastic of my phone casing suddenly slick against my palm. I could hear the faint, ambient roar of the city through my mother’s line, mixed with the distinct, low rumble of a high-end engine idling right outside her brick apartment block."Aaron?" she prompted, her voice sharpening. "Are you there?""Yeah, Mom. I'm here." I forced a laugh that sounded brittle even to my own ears. "It’s... just a company thing. Logistical stuff. Don't worry about it.""A company thing that drives an imported sedan?" She wasn't buying it. Not for a second. "The last time a car like that sat outside our house, your uncle had to move to Arizona under a fake name, Aaron.""Nobody is moving to Arizona," I whispered, turning my back fully on the two billionaires currently analyzing my facial expressions. I lowered my voice into the receiver. "Just... stay inside. I’ll be home soon, okay? Don't look out the curtains.""Too late. I already waved at the driver. He didn't wave back. Very ru