Semua Bab DON’T STOP: Bab 91 - Bab 100

DaisyThe SUV barely moved.Three blocks. In twenty minutes. At this rate, I’d make it to the war room sometime next week. I sat rigid in the back seat, my fingers curled tight around my phone, rereading Sarah’s message like the words might rearrange themselves into something less catastrophic. Norman’s name at the bottom of it all like a signature on a grenade.Twelve percent.In this economy where every board member was already watching margins like a hawk, where inflation had clients renegotiating contracts they’d signed six months ago, where twelve per cent was the difference between winning and watching a deal you’d built from the ground up walk straight into enemy hands.My enemy’s hands.Norman fucking White's hands.I pressed my fingers to my temple and stared out the tinted window at nothing. At brake lights. The city was crawling along like it had nowhere to be and all the time in the world to get there.My heart wouldn’t slow down.I needed a strategy. I needed talking point

NormanI knew before she even opened her mouth.The scuffed heel. The loose strands escaping her ponytail. The flush across her cheekbones that had nothing to do with emotion and everything to do with exertion. The slight heave of her shoulders as she pulled in breath and tried to make it look casual.She ran.Daisy Wright, CEO of Wright Dynamics, ice queen of the California tech corridor had run through the streets to get here. In that blazer. In those heels. Under the July sun.Something moved in my chest that I wasn’t going to name.I set Evelyn down slowly, hands dropping from her waist. Evelyn had gone very still beside me, her smile carefully neutral, her eyes moving between Daisy and me with the quiet alertness of someone doing rapid calculations.Smart girl.Daisy’s eyes were locked on mine.“Norman.” My name in her mouth. It sounded clipped, loaded, and dangerous. Like a safety being clicked off.“Daisy,” I said. Easy. Unbothered. “You look—”“Don’t.” The word landed like a b

DaisyOne glass became two.I wasn’t counting. I was staring at the counter and methodically not thinking about anything. Not the contract. Not the war room. Not the way he’d looked at me like I was a mildly interesting problem he’d already solved. Not the way my chest had hollowed out when I saw his hand close around hers—I reached into my bag for a napkin. That was when my fingers suddenly hit something stiff. I pulled it out slowly. It was a white card. Crisp. Clean. Embossed black lettering. Norman White. White Industries. And his stupid phone number.I set it on the counter and stared at it. I thought I had left this. I had stood at that reception desk and said, "I don’t need this," and walked out. And yet here it was, sitting between my fingers like my own hand had betrayed me without telling the rest of me. Maybe I didn’t leave it after all.I picked up my glass and put it down. Then, I picked up the card. I just needed to vent. That was all this was. I had things to say—legi

DaisyNorman loomed over me, his eyes black with something feral. He hooked my ankles over his shoulders in one brutal motion, folding me nearly in half until my knees kissed my chest and my ass lifted off the bed. The position left me wide open, helpless, completely exposed. He didn’t ease back in—he slammed home in one vicious thrust, bottoming out so deep I felt him in my throat.A broken moan tore out of me. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He fucked me like a punishment—long, punishing strokes that dragged every thick inch of him over that swollen, greedy spot inside until my walls fluttered and clenched around him helplessly. Each time he bottomed out, his balls slapped wetly against my ass, the obscene sound filling the room along with my choked sobs.Sweat slicked our skin. His grip on my thighs bruised as he pinned me open wider, using my body like it was made for this—for him. He angled his hips just right so the fat head of his cock battered that spot over and over, relent

Norman The morning was running exactly as it should.Calls returned, meetings confirmed, the California contract already generating the kind of press coverage that made competitors uncomfortable.I leaned back in my chair and reviewed the morning brief with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had played the week well.The door opened.Evelyn came in with the efficiency she always carried — heels precise, posture straight, a small stack of sorted mail tucked under one arm and a coffee in her free hand. She set the coffee on my desk first, then the mail beside it, neat and ordered by priority the way I liked.“Morning post,” she said simply. “The quarterly review request from the Singapore office is on top. Legal sent the amended licensing clauses — already flagged the relevant pages.” She paused. “And there’s an invitation. Third one down. Embossed, so probably the industry circuit.”She turned to leave.“Evelyn.”She stopped and looked back.“Thank you.”Something warm crossed her