Chapter 31 The cost of words

Chapter 31 The cost of words
Daniel’s POV

The morning light cuts through the blinds. Nora is curled against my side, one of her legs is thrown over my hip, her breath is warm against my collarbone. Her hair is in strands tangled from last night’s frenzy from my fingers, her nails, the way she arched when I pinned her wrists and fucked her until we both forgot how to speak. The black lace lingerie is in shreds on the floor; the stockings are twisted around one ankle like evidence. She’s naked now, soft and marked with red blooms on her throat from my mouth. She looks peaceful and beautiful.
I don’t move and I just watch her.The slow rise and fall of her chest. The faint flutter of her lashes. The way her lips part slightly. I’ve never let myself stare like this before, never let myself want someone so completely that looking away feels like dying.
Last night changed that.
Every thrust, every gasp, every time she whispered my name like it was the only word that mattered,it carved something permanent into me.
She stirs and opens her eyes slowly–still heavy with sleep. They find mine and they soften instantly.

“Morning,” she murmurs, her voice rough from screaming my name too many times. I smile slowly and reach out to brush a strand of hair off her cheek with my thumb.
“Morning.”She stretches like a cat, arching against me, and I feel every inch of her skin glue along mine. My cock twitches against her thigh–already half-hard just from looking at her. She notices and smiles wickedly.“You’re insatiable.”
“You’re naked.” I argue. “What did you expect?”Her laugh is low, sleepy and perfect. Then her expression shifts like she just remembered something.
“Your meeting. It's Ten o’clock.”
I groan, drop my forehead to hers.“I know.”She traces the scar above my eyebrow with one fingertip. “You wish you could stay in bed all day?”
“Every fucking second of it,” I admit. “Just with you. No board. No cameras. No questions.”
She presses a soft kiss to my jaw. “Go and kick their asses.”I kiss her and then I force myself to roll away.
The shower is quick and cold enough to clear my head. When I step out, with a towel around my hips, I call Rossa.
“Car’s here?” I ask when she picks up.
“Yes, sir. Black SUV, front entrance. Nine-fifteen pickup. You’re on schedule.”
“Good. See you downstairs.”I hang up.
Nora is watching me dress. I'm on a black suit, white shirt, no tie. I lean over and kiss her.“I’ll be back,” I say against her lips as she cups my face. “Good luck.”

The drive to the headquarters is silent. Rossa meets me in the underground garage with a tablet in her hand. “They’re waiting on forty-seven,” she says. “Legal’s already inside. No surprises.”I nod. “Let’s go.”
The elevator ride is quiet. When the doors open on the executive floor, flashes explode.
Journalists crowd the lobby.
Cameras.
Microphones. Shouted questions overlapping.“Mr. Hawthorne will you resign?”
“Is the company preparing to file charges?”
“Who is the woman in the photos from last night?”

My security forms a wall, shoving them back. I keep my head high, my expression blank and my hand firm on Rossa’s elbow as they guide us through the scrum and into the private corridor.
The conference room is cold with glass walls with long and shiny wooden table. Eight board members are already seated with their faces long and hard.
I sit.
They start immediately as the questions come fast, sharp, rehearsed, designed to corner me.
“Did you authorize the release of confidential financial projections?”
“Did you knowingly mislead the investors?”
“Who leaked the documents?”
I answer the ones I can calmly, measured, sticking to the script Rossa and the legal team had prepared. The rest I deflect.
Two hours later it ends. No decision is announced. No suspension formalized. But the air is thick with threat.
I step into the hallway and see Vincent waiting–leaning against the wall like he owns the place, his arms crossed, with a wide smile on his face.