No Dejes: De Besarme Por Culpa D Chris De Wit ...

The tension in Julian’s shoulders snapped. The ghost of the office, the blueprints, and the cold, judgmental eyes of Chris De Wit faded into the background noise of the clinking spoons and the pouring rain.

She bridged the final inch between them, her lips brushing against his. Julian froze, the phantom voice of his boss echoing in his head, preaching about discipline and the weakness of sentiment.

Julian didn't answer with words. He reached out, cupping her face, and kissed her—not with the hesitation of a subordinate, but with the hunger of a man reclaiming his life. No Dejes De Besarme Por Culpa D Chris De Wit ...

"Julian, look at me," she said, her voice steady. "Chris De Wit is a man who built a skyscraper around his heart so he wouldn't have to feel the wind. He wants you to live in that same dark room."

"He says the bridge project is failing because I’m 'distracted,'" Julian whispered. "He says I need to be harder. That I shouldn't let... feelings... soften the lines." The tension in Julian’s shoulders snapped

For weeks, a name had been a ghost at their table: .

The rain in Amsterdam didn’t just fall; it blurred the world into a watercolor of greys and neon reflections. Inside the small, dimly lit café, Elena sat across from Julian, the silence between them heavier than the storm outside. Julian froze, the phantom voice of his boss

Elena reached across the table, her fingers catching his. Julian flinched, his eyes darting to the door as if De Wit himself might walk in and dock his future for the crime of affection.