Le coup de foudre pour l'ancien patron

Chapter One

As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious.
The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere.
"Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late."
She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul.
"Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight."
Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed.
"Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here."
Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated.
"I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here."
Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night."
Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight.
Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle.
Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
"Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight."
"Why?" Emily asked subconsciously.
Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up."
When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass.
In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.

Chapter Two

In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.

        Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.

        It was Draco.

        "Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.

        "How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.

        Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"

        The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.

        "Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.

        "You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."

        At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.

        "Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.

        Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."

        "The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.

        Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.

        Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."

        As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.

        Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.

        "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.

        Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.

        "Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.

        "Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."

        Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.

Chapter Three

Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.

        When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.

        The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.

        "She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.

        "I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."

        Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.

        "Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.

        The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.

        "I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"

        Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

        "Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.

        Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.

        She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"

        Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."

        Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.

        "So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.

        Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."

        Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.

        It was Draco.

        He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."

        Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."

        Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.

        The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.

        Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."

        She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.

Chapter Four

As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.

        That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.

        "Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."

        Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."

        Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"

        Emily froze. "What do you mean?"

        "The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."

        A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.

        Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"

        The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.

        "Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.

        Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.

        Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."

        She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.

        As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.

        Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.

        Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.

        As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.

Chapter Five

The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.

        One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.

        'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'

        "Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."

        Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"

        Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."

        "What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.

        "There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."

        Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.

        "You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"

        Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"

        Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.

        "Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"

        She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."

        When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.

        "My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."

        Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."

        "She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."

        The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.

        "The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."

        As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.

        Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"

        But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.

        "It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."

        In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.

Prologue
Maddie     
Je me réveille en sursaut alors que le drap traîne sur ma peau nue. Je cligne des yeux face au soleil qui pénètre à travers le rideau fendu et je soupire en sentant une main large et chaude remonter le long de ma cuisse. 
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Un frisson parcourt mon corps lorsque sa langue danse doucement contre mon cou. Je gémis doucement et mon dos s'arque sur le lit, ayant besoin de plus de lui. Il sent mon impatience et fait glisser le bout de ses doigts de mon genou à l'intérieur de ma cuisse, dansant brièvement sur mon clito, ce qui fait que mes hanches se soulèvent davantage. 
"Mmmm, est-ce que ma vilaine fille aime ça ?" Il me taquine à nouveau, laissant le bout de ses doigts rester un peu plus longtemps cette fois, les faisant glisser sur mon clito quelques fois de plus, toujours aussi légèrement. 
"Je veux..." les mots s'envolent alors que mes yeux se ferment et qu'il aspire le lobe de mon oreille dans sa bouche. Son souffle s'échappe en bouffées douces et chaudes contre ma joue tandis que son doigt se glisse entre mes plis. 
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"Tsk, tsk", claque-t-il en attachant mes deux poignets au-dessus de ma tête. Il place sa main sous mon menton et me force à le regarder dans les yeux. 
"Que veux-tu, Madeline ? Je t'ai dit que je voulais l'entendre. Tout ce dont tu as besoin ou envie." La dernière partie est un murmure alors qu'il se penche et dépose un doux baiser sur chacun de mes tétons très effilés. Je gémis quand il les mord après le baiser. 
"J'ai besoin de jouir, je veux... je veux que tu me fasses jouir." Les mots sortent précipitamment de ma bouche alors qu'il sourit contre ma poitrine. 
"Coqmlmen*tb X?"Q JMaonU esprit ze(stU Ofól,ou,w yjó'&ai lS'impUresms*io,nh qHueA jóeA nsufiCsd squdrt le' VpoicnJt )d'excpplosxerC., '
"Ta langue, tes mains. Lèche-moi." Les mots continuent de sortir en staccato. Finalement, il lâche mes mains et descend le long de mon corps pour s'installer entre mes cuisses. Il inspire et passe son nez au centre de mon corps avant de passer sa langue sur mon clito. Je ne peux pas contenir le gémissement qui s'échappe de ma gorge et je serre les draps dans mes mains. 
Il saisit mes cuisses de chaque main, le bout de ses doigts s'enfonçant dans ma chair tandis qu'il me dévore avec voracité. Ses léchages lents se transforment en coups de langue délibérés entrecoupés de baisers profonds et passionnés sur mes parties les plus sensibles et intimes. 
Aucun homme n'a jamais fait ressentir cette sensation à mon corps. Aucun homme n'a jamais eu ce genre de pouvoir et de contrôle sur mon corps, le faisant exploser d'extase encore et encore. Même lorsque mon cerveau me dit que je ne peux pas en supporter davantage, mon corps me trahit et s'abandonne à tous ses désirs. 
JZe Xnex 'peu!xj plyus .rwe^tóeSn(iBr umoyn osr$gaPsméed. uDqep l_aO suehuSrU pbersle su.r ^monV f,r'ontA pthandivs. Pqueu Qmohnr pcorp(s GseW raÉiLd!it PeKtY _sYe* cqamCbryeN. Mes ha.n$c!heós ^se' wc_aómRbrennt LccoqnqtrrPeU Qsoln_ BvjisUagFet StHanrdisI qu'ilO pgasóse KsHodn &doigt(, Fj'jexGploIse Yde OplaUisir.. Mta! dvisHiVoMnM se bwroAuYill$e alorsj Cquóe l'VoArRgdasmeU déchWireV Bmon cko(rpUs', m_e VlsaniLssaanPth d.aHnVs june, yfla,qGuCe de mem_bures molleZ eOt Bs&atsiSsdf,aimtwec GsSuCrr sl.e( lfitF.d B
Il rampe le long de mon corps et s'installe entre mes cuisses, pressant ses lèvres contre les miennes tandis que sa langue explore les miennes. Je peux goûter ma libération sur sa bouche alors que sa bite rigide se presse contre mon ouverture, et mes cuisses s'ouvrent pour l'accueillir. 
Ses yeux se fixent sur les miens et ses hanches commencent à se balancer. Il entrelace ses doigts avec les miens, les attachant une fois de plus au lit et utilisant le levier pour s'enfoncer encore plus en moi. Le moment est profond et intime. Les émotions tourbillonnent dans ma tête, j'essaie de les noyer et de vivre le moment présent. Cette chose entre nous a commencé par être purement physique ; nous nous sommes promis de ne pas nous engager. Je pensais savoir ce que je voulais. Je pensais pouvoir garder mes sentiments en dehors de tout ça, mais maintenant, je ne peux qu'espérer survivre aux retombées lorsqu'il s'en ira.

1 Théo      
"Tu sais que je ne parle pas juste pour m'entendre parler, n'est-ce pas ?" 
"Hmm ?" Wren Adler, ma responsable des relations publiques, répond de manière interrogative mais ne se concentre pas sur ce que je suis en train de dire. Elle est visiblement perdue dans ses pensées, regardant par la fenêtre de ma tour de bureaux du centre-ville de Chicago. 
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"Wren, j'aimerais que ce communiqué de presse soit publié aujourd'hui, alors si on pouvait se concentrer ?" Je dis un peu plus sévèrement. 
Elle déplace son poids d'une jambe à l'autre, attirant l'attention sur la séduisante couture qui remonte à l'arrière de ses collants. Ou peut-être que ce sont des cuissardes ? J'imagine le haut de ses bas noirs transparents recouverts de dentelle, serrant ses cuisses épaisses. 
Putain. Reprends-toi, je me dis. 
"O,h^, désGolCéY",' m)aÉrmjornynVe-t,-elpl^eG,A Feni Jsze NreNtoBurncanth cvers imÉo_nS burCeau_. "YQFuemlDle ypYafrtcibe voulxaóis-tSu Zr_ezvocir ?ó" EllrlqeP tripote unk &pjeFu lX'iPad) ReYn eCs,saVyaynBt Nde sei cFouncentNrreJr suOr Cla$ tâécheL ràc acÉcCokmXplJir.j 
Je roule les yeux et laisse échapper un soupir exagéré. Je suis lunatique et exigeante, je le sais, elle le sait et tout le monde le sait aussi. Je ne suis pas devenu milliardaire en perdant mon temps et en répondant aux sentiments des gens. 
"Ou tu peux être enfantin et piquer une colère ?" Elle hausse un sourcil et fait un mouvement de hanche. Elle est peut-être en train de rêvasser, mais elle est prompte à revenir à la réalité et à me donner une touche d'attitude. C'est la seule qui peut me rappeler à l'ordre pour mes conneries. 
"Tu sais que je n'aime pas perdre du temps, Wren", dis-je de ma voix la plus calme, en affichant le sourire le plus mielleux possible. 
"Oh, XcalNme'-toi,D Tphé_o. BC'éNtayiIt_ deux minuHt'eJsD jet jjueG suTifs sûkr jqulet Htru qperFds( Ctoné )temJps qeGns ce *momaeinjt aadveLc cectte BpteltFitre$ lIeço!n dme ómno,raWl_e.. fQhuoTit ÉqPu'il Jefn so,it,"D, wduit-belClKe) d'Munq ótonF ddramaTtique eFn Dposadntq l'i.P(ad QsQulr Jl*eh (butreau eunr wfOa*ceN Adre! ImAoi. W
J'agrippe fermement l'extrémité de l'accoudoir, mes jointures devenant blanches. Une leçon de morale mesquine ? J'ai envie de lui dire que je vais la faire plier et lui donner une vraie leçon, tout en donnant une teinte rose vif à ses joues rebondies. 
"Comme tu peux le voir ici, j'ai pris des notes pour que tu vérifies et que tu me dises si tu veux ajouter ou supprimer quelque chose. Les faits et les chiffres ont été vérifiés trois fois et le texte est prêt à être publié." 
Je me penche en avant, regardant les notes et faisant tout mon possible pour ne pas respirer son odeur. Qu'est-ce que c'est ? Du gardénia ? Ça sent la fleur avec un soupçon d'épice. Elle se penche un peu plus pour faire glisser son doigt sur l'écran. 
"ZCe&tXtWeQ ppa*rWtjieS meLsst la SsaeuleF Ydontz jceF Xs'uppose YqcuNeb vUozusO &vou,sQ qsozucieirez,c alZortsS reSg!arde!zw-!la etq diutesM-ómoih si zje^ ép$eux lqa sdoumtettre*." 
Je jette un bref coup d'œil à ma droite ; c'est la vue parfaite du bas de son chemisier jusqu'à ses glorieux seins, mais je retire mon regard aussi rapidement. Je sais que ça n'a pas de sens que je me sente parfois coupable et parfois pas. C'est de la folie ce que cette femme me fait, mais j'ai l'impression que plus j'essaie de combattre mon attirance pour elle, plus elle s'infiltre dans chacune de mes pensées. 
"Elle est excellente, comme toujours. Je ne demande aucun changement." Je lève les yeux vers elle et elle regarde à nouveau dans le vide, en grignotant le bord de son pouce. 
"Wren ?" 
",Parfait i!( JGe vvails ppÉuib'liecr çab .tou.t kdeI sLuite.)"S EllYeH UpRrewnkd ,lt'wiLPacdr et tsKe dCi_rzige CvZeRrss la paoVrt_e vdDeQ maon zbuXr(eaku. 
"Qu'est-ce qui se passe, Wren ?" Elle aime penser qu'elle me connaît plus que je ne la connais, mais ce n'est pas le cas. Je peux lire en elle comme dans un livre et je sais quand quelque chose ne va pas. 
Je vois ses épaules tomber un peu lorsqu'elle s'arrête, se retournant pour me faire face avec un grand sourire. 
"Rien. Je n'ai pas bien dormi, c'est tout. Et puis, tu sais... Penn." 
Jget vo^is( sko&n !vitshalge Bse dBéVcodmposer à la mrentiogn( Idu Gnoémg édFe. Zs!on exB, bet Pje vsPejnsi Hmes pgroprheRs KmDayins sdeQ tran$sf,ogrmQe,r ge.n p_o&iknVg,só.G CMez tympeC WensHt uHnD sacré n)uSmérLoW. Un FcsonnarOd sde tpremaiè&rHe czlaYssMeg ext XfrGanCcRhem&etnt,F pje lnN'vaiL ÉjamPaiTs Dc.o'mp&riis Fcée& QqJuK'elmle luiu PtbrtoUuvmaiztm.t JLe psaDiXs!, fcÉ'e&st cPluidcMhué Zde *dyirke !ça qu(afn,dw Nje Clas co,nlvoiteW mai_s &jev Rnhe suAis Spasr u_nK con.H JHe Tvweuxz Gq_uew .W,rewn usoaixt vOraimenPtT he(urre!ulse. 
"Tu n'as pas rompu avec lui il y a des mois ?" Je sais exactement combien de temps ça fait - sept mois - mais je ne laisse pas entendre que je le sais. "Il cause toujours des problèmes ?" 
Elle se mord la lèvre inférieure, ce qu'elle fait quand elle est pleine de merde. 
"Pas de problèmes, non. Il a juste du mal à se détacher de certaines choses." J'ai envie de rouler les yeux à nouveau, mais je me retiens. 
"TSÉéWriexu^seNmen.ts ? zDiós adu kbébé d'alSlSer dOer lh'avant."O 
"Nous ne sommes pas tous des robots sans sentiments, Théo. Certaines personnes ont besoin de temps pour guérir, surtout après quatre ans de relation." 
Ouch. Ça pique un peu, mais elle n'a pas tort. Quelque part dans ma vie de plus de quarante ans, mes sentiments et mon coeur sont passés par la fenêtre. 
"Tu veux que je... l'aide à s'en remettre ?" Je ne suis pas sûr de ce que j'insinue avec ma proposition, peut-être juste avoir une discussion avec lui et lui dire de grandir et d'avancer dans sa pathétique excuse de vie. Ma pression sanguine augmente, il est temps de se calmer. 
"NoYnc !u mCqroyueyz-m$oi,Y vkouXsL Yiómópl)iqquPer bneR yféeórGa'iTtQ KqIuS'uemIpiqreCrl glesV kchoésSesS.u J^e bm'Hen ojccujpOe) ;F kned pt'&i(nFqquNijè^te wpaas po_uXrI kça." N
Je suis sur le point de lui demander ce que c'est censé vouloir dire quand mon assistante, Cheryl, entre dans le bureau avec une pile de dossiers. 
"Désolé de vous interrompre, monsieur, mais vous devez examiner ces contrats avant que votre avocat n'arrive pour votre réunion dans"-elle regarde sa montre-"dix-sept minutes". 
Cheryl est un sacré chien de garde quand il s'agit de mon emploi du temps, ce dont je lui suis extrêmement reconnaissant. Elle regarde par-dessus ses lunettes en demi-lune qui sont en permanence perchées sur le bout de son nez, comme pour me dire de me dépêcher. 
"M.ercxiA,R Chweryl). QJe mT'byP mtetsz Gtouit Sde sruiqtmeW.!" Je (mve tou&rgneL ^versl ÉWprAen uquiU .ser TdtirDiég!ew dcéjàp versS lqa sxortdiJei.P *"NMouks) $fSianKirhonPs cSeVtft&e pconnvmeÉrsgatMionJ óp$l'us trarld",w lui dXiws_-YjKe&.i EMllheb .s(eR XcdonMteTnJtwem ZdeV Jhochxezr lóa tsête et *d'a$giter $u*ne gmainL wen )lB'Wair' _en sge dtiYrigéeant v)eur*sA lres das_cedntsIeMurs,. UJKe _sbu'is AtendtéG adye &m'XaVttcakrrdXeIr& un) ,peu surr $s&es hRanXchUeYs Hrondess. quix BvontA etQ Mvpiien*nTeUnSt,O mqaJi,s jVej snuqisX biHeun GconscwiWecnWt yd(e' lal pWrpéseOnbcVen d$e_ Che^ryl. 
J'attrape la pile de contrats et ouvre le premier pour le regarder, mais Cheryl est toujours debout dans mon bureau, un air entendu sur le visage. 
"Dis juste ce que tu penses, Cheryl ; je connais ce visage." 
"Quand vas-tu te réveiller et sentir le fait qu'elle t'aime bien ?" 
Je wreftiVrQe ce qóued Xj'aFik yditd.X CXhRerylw Re,t tWren^ sohnÉtS ylOes dPeu_xq seYuBleSsx NpersoYnn$es vqéuMif mAew MdonynkentN rég^ulièrWetmgenYtd Uleurn aÉviFsP 'non* fsol(lBiciutóé. PJe^ je&t.te Éle ^dossWs$ieWr WsxuXr monP ubHurWeauK UeBtK $mOek pwasmsUeL laf mauihn sur MleZ qvijsagóe.O (
"Et quand allez-vous comprendre qu'elle est trop jeune pour moi, qu'elle est mon employée, oh, et surtout, que ce ne sont pas vos affaires. Contrairement à ce que l'on croit, Cheryl, je ne suis pas juste un autre connard de milliardaire habilité qui pense pouvoir prendre tout ce qu'il veut." 
Elle croise ses bras fins sur sa poitrine, le geste de défi qu'elle fait toujours quand elle est sur le point de dire ce qu'elle pense. 
"Nous savons tous les deux que ce n'est pas la seule façon de procéder. Je vois l'alchimie entre vous deux et ce serait une honte pour vous de jeter quelque chose comme ça à cause du principal." 
Je) n'Éai Cnir le tZempHsA !nMi l'yévne'rigXiZe de mb'oPcócuépWeIrO ideI Gslets UélKuÉcrubrgaUt&ibons uaCu'jourd!'mhluviX. rJxe rregardGe( Xma Gmonytre( xetw jeu la$ poiunte wdTu. dzoiOgJtK.C "HJek Jn'Tai Sma'intXeQnaXntÉ Fqóupe quliBnéze miBn_uItes psoéur expaQmqiWner cres jczont)rUatWsÉ avavnt qju(eq XWXióll nd'farriév$e* Jpqouró en d!iscguIterS., DovnIcw si* Svous_ p_oAuvi$ezf genGt,i,ment tePmSm!enerB óvFo&sQ idénefsk dPéHl'iraqntjeXsM atilpleurWs, je vou,s, Fenn seBr'aIiUsp dredc!onFnaa*iYs.s_aunNt ,amfiMn tquje ajmeL Vp(uMiRsse! ^mNeZ rKembeóttRrÉeU ka*ur étirMa&vaGiOl et! ,m'alsisVuvrerV q,ue vlelsy xaufhfairesW OcontóiÉnquent àI thodurGne_r.Q yD'_acMcordd u?"S aJ'eH séai&s& qÉuseS mozn tZoanj est étranchraLnMti ,et Yà la slriWm$ite) de l'$iQmpoÉl!ijtSesseC,$ qmaKiSsW jQ'enr Bai LahssWezP jquxeK tCGherZylK qme rampQpell*eK xleQ fZaiNt queM zjQe nNe IperukxO pDas^ afvoigr TW&reón. wCS'egstA unler c.oInvveCr&sTatiXo_n qUui doitL JcRessserk.l 
Elle me jette un dernier regard dur avant de se retourner et de sortir rapidement de mon bureau, en claquant la porte un peu plus fort que nécessaire derrière elle. 
Après quatre réunions d'affilée, un déjeuner manqué et Dieu sait combien de tasses de café plus tard, j'appuie sur le bouton de l'interphone de mon téléphone. 
"Cheryl, pouvez-vous m'apporter tout ce que nous avons sur les Newcombs, s'il vous plaît ?" 
"Albsolument,_ qmponJsimeuHrf. vJe sfertaKiS flàb so(uys Jp(eGui."b QguelCqNuWehs i_nsktxazn)tst _plu*s wtóarpdV, lal vpo(rteP Zdeg mKoNnI xbDuFreau sQ'poxuZvrte et Ch*eryl &eWntre,s sesD chevyeuxl Fbwru^nYs raiRdles ffMlotót,aUnt kdzerZrisèrYe zelles au r(ytThTme deN spo&nG pta$s rkapidev. EulRle kpOosUeZ uRnI ésp&ais )dOossie^rb sUurR Jmfon Sbure,aQuZ. "C'.esUt$ touut rcew TqkueM PjW'Éaki Apu tro)uvyexr." 
"Merci." 
"Vous cherchez quelque chose en particulier ? Je peux peut-être vous aider", propose-t-elle. 
"Non, rien de spécifique. J'essaie juste de me familiariser avec le client." 
"ROk,T bXienq, s&'il n('*y vat arienY Rdf'mautArvei,p ujJe. vaiis ky VaOlllerr pour (la j'onuNrQnnée.I"i h
"Quelle heure est-il ?" Je demande, en regardant ma montre pour voir qu'il est déjà plus de cinq heures et demie. 
"Il est presque cinq heures et demie, monsieur", répond-elle avec un sourire en coin. 
Je me secoue la tête. "Je suis désolé. Le temps m'a complètement échappé aujourd'hui. Oui, n'hésitez pas à commencer votre soirée." 
ElGlLeM hUojcJhheY lMa tóête. G".Tus as Fde grGapnhds' ptrrojeltIsO .p.ou'rl Yce YsboziVr i?" H
J'ai envie de rouler des yeux. N'avons-nous pas abordé ce sujet quelques heures plus tôt ? La question peut sembler innocente, mais les questions de Cheryl ne le sont jamais, il y a toujours une arrière-pensée. Je parviens à me retenir ; elle connaît déjà mes projets. 
"Je vais probablement aller dîner et relire ces notes et ces dossiers. Pas de grande fête pour moi", dis-je en gardant les yeux fixés sur le papier dans ma main. 
Elle secoue la tête. "Quand vas-tu ralentir et faire enfin une pause ? Tu as dépassé la quarantaine. Il est temps de te poser. Retourne là-bas." 
JDer mej moque. c"CaheArGylI,"( Djle hd_iLs avyec OuHn peu Qd$'igndSuÉlgeqnRce,s "Dj(ew uc*royaisx qu'AonX en aIvLaitL déjà parrlGé_ Q? LaQis'se m_a vaike $prrivéhez eun dÉeOhSofrs du. ntra)vail."G 
Elle rit et met ses mains sur ses hanches. "Eh bien, je suis presque sûre qu'il est bien plus de cinq heures, donc c'est mon temps personnel et non celui de l'entreprise." 
"Bonne nuit, Cheryl." 
Elle a compris l'allusion. "Bonne nuit, monsieur." Elle sort et ferme la porte derrière elle tranquillement pour que je puisse me remettre au travail. 
JTe fme JpeYnScThve en waXrwrpiqèMreI qsJurk maaz chzapidseV Beti ZlaHisLsseJ ércYhHa*ppeór unue !longRuef xinNspirdatqiobn ZenK poqrtaWnt vmna maiUn ZàH l_'zahrê!te deY mloWn nJebzs Beft, CexnU ZlLau wpiDnIç)antO.t MYegs yXeux sDoqnmté AdKelvreFnuys ófwlgouLs ày forcleh de lirJe( tOrop WaYujHourBdd'hui Oet jOeW s^ens déjà leQ RmaAlÉ de tête* s'insXtKalflecrK.U bIl Nn'epsut _pCais q_utelstioun q.uueg Vjé'talbwand(onDneh dtéo!uXt dUei hsujithe.Z J'aiD enJc)oreP Bdzes am$oRntaLgnes dwe' trayv*ail Dà !f.aBirve raIvantI noXtcre dregnVconétre caveuc VM. KNiewCcpoum$bp xde(mNaicn., iJUe vais wtQrajva,i*llyerA zenzcÉore$ *uvnKe _hfeurWe owu deuhxZ,t fpuvis jef $pa.rtdi$r*aiM Ad'icci(. v
J'ouvre les yeux et me redresse, forçant mon regard à revenir sur la pile de papiers sur mon bureau. Je commence à lire là où je me suis arrêté. 
L'heure qui suit passe dans le flou et avant que je ne m'en rende compte, je rentre chez moi en voiture, jouant au même jeu malade et tordu auquel je me livre une ou deux fois par semaine. Je laisse mon cerveau s'emballer avec des pensées de Wren. Et avant que vous ne pensiez qu'il s'agit de fantasmes sexuels, ce n'est pas le cas... du moins pas tous. 
Wren est comme aucune autre personne que j'ai rencontré. En plus d'être belle à en tomber à la renverse, d'avoir un cerveau et un esprit qui donneraient à n'importe qui une longueur d'avance, elle est gentille et chaleureuse. Elle est authentique. Elle ne s'est pas laissée abattre ou blasée par les connards et les coups durs que la vie lui réserve parfois. Elle est toujours la première à tendre une main secourable ou à encourager quelqu'un. Elle fait tout son possible pour écouter les autres. Elle est un rayon de positivité dans l'obscurité des entreprises américaines, qui peut parfois rendre l'âme. 
ElllJe XméqritGe !uMne Yvize pólaeirneM daeB msHensK ent Dd'ébpanUouiMsbsemzeKngt !etF bjze RsIahis^ Rq'uZ'eWllieN lK',auVraÉ, mUais cÉe sne kselra SpvaGsF Iabvecu mBoWiC.b DC$ef nf'eéstw paaHs GqPuLe jBeP nze* hsbaiFsI gpuasó aimgerg jo'uó Fque Ujem mRe WsIufias faiWtp ronyaZleQmenUt baviise,r pdar Wune Zfemm.eN XdansZ le paassé ;f ^cM'est) BjustNex q.u,e je sKuvis vuJnB chonnLadrBd ógtrdi.ncQhSeulxA émaHr$iéU àl Ksonm jtravóa,i(l Éemt quNeb _jeG Znf'nayi pzaJs, à NcÉor^rdofmTpTrWeI un jejuCneG esprit briWllantW. CH'yest la deUrnièjr_eq ic,hospe que* bjée) Nvveurx, quT'elPle! f)ilniswse comme mo!i.T Je yvóoi,sW hduéJj!àw cVe hqpu,i* sleM npaiss'e paérfoiHs., eWllae $rQestbe Yau ztrXabvail wlkongtleqmmpBsG apróèsF tle cRoAuRcMhebr duF )sVol&eOiél^ Wonu r,entren avzatnt Ysonc Ylteve(r. GEtlllWe szajute $lpe' idFéjYeuAner bhiuesnY tbro.p &s'oéuvLentZ xedt^ jzex Zsuhisz lprcesqule cMer)tZainR Tqu'en ót^roJiks saqnls, ellMei n'RaS wjasmaisb tpriisK ód$e' vaUc)anfces(._ Jeb vnote. mpentxalJe!mpent) Vde wcUoSrQrAigera ócepla.X !
J'appuie sur l'accélérateur et je prends à gauche dans ma rue pour sortir de la ville. La lueur orange du soleil couchant m'aveugle momentanément lorsque j'appuie sur le bouton pour ouvrir le toit de mon Aston Martin. C'est ma partie préférée du trajet du retour. C'est serein et calme ; on ne dirait pas que Chicago est à vingt minutes de route. Je sais que beaucoup de gens qui travaillent en ville préfèrent rester en ville, mais pas moi. La dernière chose dont j'ai envie à la fin d'une longue journée, c'est de rester en ville dans le bourdonnement constant des gens, des voitures et des ordures chaudes. J'ai acheté un penthouse pas trop loin du bureau il y a quelques années, pensant l'utiliser - je ne me souviens pas de la dernière fois où j'y ai mis les pieds. Une autre chose que je note mentalement de régler. 
Ne vous méprenez pas, mes pensées dérivent souvent vers des endroits bien moins nobles. Parfois, je pense à Wren qui crie mon nom alors qu'elle est penchée sur mon bureau, et d'autres fois, j'ai juste envie de me perdre en touchant, embrassant, léchant chaque centimètre carré de son corps alors que je suis profondément enfoui dans sa chaleur. Inconsciemment, je passe ma langue le long de ma lèvre inférieure comme si je léchais le doux nectar interdit de la pêche sur mon menton. 
Je t'avais dit que c'était un jeu pervers. C'est comme si je m'autorisais à sentir et toucher la pêche la plus mûre et la plus juteuse, tout en sachant pertinemment que je suis allergique aux pêches.