Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 1016 Chapter 1017: It felt as if she had walked willingly into his snare. Austen's eyes lingered on her, patient and assessing, while a faint, unreadable smile played at his lips. "Go on, take a seat," he muttered, his tone low and unhurried, yet carrying a weight that pulled at the senses. Before she could move, Austen had already taken the sofa for himself, folding one leg over the other with effortless composure. On the coffee table before him, glasses and ice cubes were already arranged.

With deliberate ease, he dropped a few cubes into both glasses, and the faint chime of crystal on ice broke the silence. Rosanna remained standing, her gaze fixed on him. Rather than take her seat, she inclined her body toward him, tilting the bottle so the wine flowed smoothly into his glass before tending to her own. The curve of her form caught the light in a way that hinted at something unspoken, and a loose strand of hair brushed her cheek. She eased it back behind her ear with a slow, unhurried touch.

The moment cracked the stillness, sending a rush of heat through Austen as though the air itself had turned combustible. "Mr. Nelson, this is for you." Rosanna's smile was gentle yet knowing as she offered him the glass, keeping the other for herself. She had barely begun to lower herself into the seat when a sudden grip closed firmly around her wrist. A glimmer of amusement flickered in Austen's expression as his free hand claimed the glass, guiding her into the solid wall of his chest.

g Ɐ lnσ ν ℓs․com, your storytelling home The unexpected pull left Rosanna off balance, her palms pressing against the hard planes of his muscles as heat rushed to her face. "Mr. Nelson... you..." Her words stumbled out in a fragile whisper, laced with unease, as she tried to push herself away. But Austen offered no room to retreat. His hold tightened, unyielding, like steel wrapped in warmth. "Isn't this exactly what you were after?" he whispered against her ear. His low chuckle sliced through the composure she tried to maintain.

A faint tremor rippled through Rosanna's frame, her body yielding involuntarily beneath the weight of his presence until her breath came uneven. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Nelson... what could I possibly want?" Her voice held a stubborn edge, though her eyes betrayed her unease. Without a word, Austen's arm closed around her, the motion so sudden that it stole her breath. A heartbeat later, he swept her off her feet and sent her down onto the bed. The space between them vanished as his figure loomed over her, heavy with intent.

The next thing she felt was the cold press of his lips, crashing against hers with unrestrained intensity. "Drop the act." Austen's tone was calm yet unshakable. "I've dealt with enough women to read their thoughts in a single look." While the words hung in the air, his hands moved with deliberate confidence, removing the layers of fabric from Rosanna's body. . . .