Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO-Chapter 79: Sultry Rhythms

LEONARDO ANNISON

Oliver’s fingers twisted into the fabric of my shirt, anchoring me to him as if he knew I was one breath away from pulling back. The music slowed, a sultry rhythm that matched the way his body moved against mine—too close, too deliberate. His pulse thrummed beneath my palm where it rested against his waist, a rapid staccato that betrayed the confidence in his smirk.

This is dangerous.

Not just the way he looked at me—like I was something to be unraveled—but the fact that he was here, in a room full of people who would use him against me without hesitation. My family’s enemies didn’t play fair. They didn’t hesitate. And Oliver? He was a flashing neon sign of vulnerability, bright and impossible to ignore.

"You’re thinking too hard," Oliver murmured, his breath warm against my jaw. His fingers loosened their grip on my shirt, sliding up to my collar, adjusting it with a casualness that belied the tension between us.

I caught his wrist before he could pull away. "You shouldn’t be here."

His eyebrow arched. "At the party? Or in your personal space?"

Both.

But the words lodged in my throat. Because the truth was, I didn’t want him to step back. The way he fit against me, the way his defiance lit something reckless in my chest—it was intoxicating. And that was the problem.

"Charles was right," I said instead, forcing my voice low, controlled. "You don’t know what you’re getting into."

Oliver stilled, his playful expression flickering. "Ah. So this is about him."

"It’s about survival." My grip on his waist tightened. "You don’t understand the kind of people—" freewebnøvel_com

"I understand enough." His fingers pressed against my chest, right over the scar hidden beneath my shirt. The one I’d gotten three years ago when a business rival decided a bullet was a more effective negotiation tactic than a contract. "You think I haven’t noticed the way your family watches you? The way you watch them?"

A cold weight settled in my gut. He’d seen too much.

The music swelled around us, but the room felt too quiet, too exposed. Anyone could be listening. Anyone could be watching.

"Oliver," I warned.

He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "Tell me to leave, then. Right now. And mean it."

My jaw locked.

I should. God, I should.

But the thought of him walking away—of never feeling this heat between us again—was worse than the fear of what might happen if he stayed.

I didn’t answer.

Oliver pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his own dark with something unreadable. "That’s what I thought."

Then his mouth was on mine.

It wasn’t gentle. It was a challenge, a claiming, a promise. And I was lost.

My hands slid into his hair, holding him there as if he might vanish. The taste of him—whiskey and something sweet—drowned out every rational thought. The world narrowed to the press of his body, the way he sighed into me, the way his fingers dug into my shoulders like he was afraid I’d let go.

A sharp laugh cut through the haze.

I tore myself away, heart hammering. Across the room, Charles stood with a glass in hand, watching us with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

Fuck.

Oliver followed my gaze, his brow furrowing. "Problem?"

"We need to go." I caught his hand, pulling him toward the nearest exit before Charles could decide to intervene. Before anyone else could get too interested in Oliver’s presence at my side.

He didn’t resist, but as we slipped into the dimly lit hallway, he tugged me to a stop. "Leo."

The sound of my name on his lips was a knife to my ribs.

"This isn’t a game," I said, voice rough. "You can’t just—kiss me in front of them and expect nothing to happen."

Oliver’s gaze didn’t waver. "I know it’s not a game. But I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you just because you’re scared."

Scared.

The word hit like a slap. I was scared. Not for myself—I’d made my peace with the target on my back years ago. But Oliver? He was a spark in a room full of gunpowder.

And I was the match that would burn him alive.

I cupped his face, my thumb brushing over his bottom lip. "You don’t know what you’re asking for."

He turned his head, pressing a kiss to my palm. "Then show me."

The hallway was empty. The party was a distant hum. And Oliver was looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

I was going to regret this.

But as I backed him against the wall and claimed his mouth again, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Let the world watch.

Let them come.

I’d destroy every last one of them before I let Oliver pay for my sins.

Oliver melted against me, his body arching into the heat between us as my hands slid down to grip his hips. His breath hitched when I bit down on his lower lip, just hard enough to make him gasp. The sound went straight to my gut, igniting a hunger I hadn’t let myself acknowledge until now.

This is a mistake.

But God, it was a sweet one.

I dragged my mouth along his jaw, down the column of his throat, feeling the frantic pulse beneath my lips. He tasted like salt and recklessness, like everything I shouldn’t want but couldn’t stop craving. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling just enough to sting, and I groaned against his skin.

"You’re going to be the death of me," I muttered.

Oliver laughed, breathless. "Dramatic."

I pulled back just enough to glare at him. "You have no idea what you’re playing with."

His smile faded, replaced by something sharper, darker. "Then stop treating me like I’ll break."

I wanted to shake him. To kiss him until neither of us could think straight. To lock him somewhere far away from the vipers circling us.

A door creaked open down the hall.

Instinct kicked in. I shoved Oliver behind me, shielding him with my body before I even registered the movement.

Charles leaned against the doorway, swirling his drink with a smirk. "Am I interrupting?"

Oliver stiffened behind me, but before he could speak, I cut in. "What do you want?"

Charles’s gaze flicked between us, lingering on Oliver’s kiss-swollen lips. "Just checking on my favorite cousin." His tone was light, but the warning in his eyes was clear. You’re being careless.

Oliver stepped around me, chin lifted. "We’re fine."

Charles’s smirk widened. "Oh, I can see that."

I clenched my fists. If he so much as looked at Oliver wrong—

"Relax, Leo." Charles held up his hands. "I’m not here to fight. Just to remind you that not everyone at this party is fond of distractions."

A chill slithered down my spine.

He wasn’t talking about himself.

Someone else had noticed Oliver.

And that meant we were already out of time.

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