Burning Passion: Love Never Die

As Darin grappled with his inability to respond, Rhea’s mocking expression registered as both reproach and scorn

A numb sensation crept over Darin’s senses. Earlier, at Marcus’ barbecue, Darin had observed the intensity of Marcus’ affectionate glances toward Millie. In the midst of his otherwise ruthless and assertive demeanor, Marcus’ gaze bespoke an unwavering tenderness.

To witness such a figure known for his unyielding and formidable demeanor in the realm of business exhibit such gentle tenderness was to observe love’s crescendo, its pinnacle attained and proclaimed.

Taking action against Millie would not only enrage Marcus, but it would also unleash a torrent of perilous repercussions.

“She has become the object of Marcus’ devotion. Our interference would not only offend him but also invite unending strife.” Darin’s words carried an air of resignation.

“So you refuse?”

voice chilled the air, reverberating within

service, ready to move mountains for you, yet I dare not jeopardize the

Darin’s countenance turned grave,

your kin shall remain untainted by this, and your own hands shall steer clear of any entanglement, so long as discretion guides our

prospect of negotiation where the Barker

grip slackened, allowing her garments to cascade to the floor, exposing the expanse of her back. A once pristine canvas, now adorned with scars and indentations, was

me, a decree against baring my back to the world. Her poison seeps into Marcus’ ear daily, an insidious campaign to dislodge my father and deprive me of all. Countless atrocities she has wrought, yet she awakens

eyes as they beheld Rhea’s back, the scars a harsh reminder of past wounds. A spark of ire ignited, incensed by the revelation. Millie, who had masqueraded as innocuous, was now revealed as a

a malevolent force,” Darin murmured, drawing nearer his hands finding solace upon Rhea’s

gaze locking onto Darin’s mournful orbs, her lips trembling faintly, the weight

gift beyond measure for our union.