Ceo Of My Heart – Finale

CEO OF MY HEART

Ceo Of My Heart – Episode 68,69&70

( Love and Lust….)

GENRE : Billionaire/Musical Romance.

© Mercy Kingsley

®2026 All rights reserved.

No part of this book should be reposted, Copied or distributed without the author’s permission.

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Giselle froze on the marble step, naked, exposed, his mark burning on her throat like a brand. The dress lay pooled at her feet — silk shredded, useless. She could feel his eyes — devouring her — from the curve of her spine to the arch of her heels.

“Walk,” he said again, lower, darker. “Up. Every step. I want to watch you.”

She moved. One step. Two. Her bare feet cold against the stone, her body burning under his gaze. She felt him follow — not touching, not yet, but there, a predator tracking prey that had already surrendered.

By the fifth step, his hand caught her hip. Squeezed. His thumb traced the dimple at the base of her spine.

“Stop.”

She stopped. Heart hammering.

Leonard pressed against her from behind — naked now too, she realized, hard and hot against the small of her back. His hands slid around her waist, up her ribs, cupping her breasts with possessive greed. He rolled her nipples between his fingers until she whimpered, head falling back against his shoulder.

“Look down,” he commanded at her ear, voice vibrating through her. “Look at us.”

She did. Saw his dark hands on her pale flesh, the contrast obscene and perfect. Saw his arms caging her, muscles taut with restraint.

“This is mine,” he growled, pinching just hard enough to make her gasp. “These. This.” One hand dropped to cup her between her legs, fingers sliding through wetness that betrayed her. “All of it. Say it.”

“Yours,” she choked out, hips rocking into his hand. “Leo, please—”

He spun her around so fast her vision blurred. Back against the wall, cold stone shocking her heated skin. Leonard loomed over her, one arm braced beside her head, the other gripping her thigh — lifting, opening her to him.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered. “I want to feel you cling.”

She obeyed, locking her ankles at the small of his back. The position left her spread, vulnerable, his hardness pressing insistently against her entrance. She tried to rock down, take him in, but he held her pinned — tormenting.

“Leonard—”

“Patience,” he breathed against her mouth, not kissing, just sharing air. “I’ve waited a week, Shorty. I’m savoring.”

He shifted his hips — just the tip, sliding through her folds, not entering, teasing. Giselle moaned, nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood.

“You’re cruel,” she gasped.

“I’m starved,” he corrected. Then he thrust up — deep, savage, filling her completely in one stroke.

Giselle screamed. The sound echoed through the penthouse, lost in the city below. He gave her no moment to adjust — pulled back and slammed in again, the wall bruising her back with every impact.

“Look at me,” he snarled, gripping her jaw. “Eyes.”

She forced them open, drowning in his darkness. He fucked her like he was trying to crawl inside her — relentless, punishing, worshipful. Each thrust drove the air from her lungs, each withdrawal made her sob for more.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

Her hand slid between them, fingers finding her clit — swollen, sensitive, desperate. She rubbed in frantic circles, pleasure building sharp and blinding.

“Faster,” he growled, pace increasing, the slap of skin against skin obscene in the quiet. “Match me, Giselle. Now.”

She did. They crashed together — her orgasm ripping through her, inner muscles clamping down so hard Leonard groaned, his rhythm faltering. But he didn’t stop. Kept fucking her through it, chasing his own release, until she was sobbing, overstimulated, ruined.

“One more,” he demanded. “Give me one more.”

“I can’t—”

“You will.”

He carried her from the wall — still inside her, still hard — to the bedroom. Threw her onto the bed, followed her down. Hooked her knees over his shoulders and drove deeper than before, angling to hit that spot that made her see white.

Giselle moaned loudly.” I love you ,Leo .I love you .”

Leonard kissed her deeply ” I love you to the deepest darkness Shorty , you’ll remain mine till eternity.Mine.”

A YEAR LATER

The mansion sat on a cliff overlooking the Pacific — glass and steel and impossible wealth. Rumi had earned every square foot. Three blockbuster films. A Golden Globe nomination. Her face on billboards from New York to Paris.

Vincent had built the security empire that let her sleep at night.

They were power now. Coupled, feared, untouchable .

LA PERLA — VALENTINE’S DAY

Red dress. Black marble. Candles drowning in their own wax.

Rumi pushed her oysters aside. “Not hungry.”

Vincent’s hand tightened on her thigh. “Nervous.”

“Impatient.” She swirled champagne, watching him. “You haven’t touched your steak.”

“Busy looking at you.”

The words landed simple, heavy. Vincent reached into his jacket — no hesitation, no speech prepared. He’d never been good at speeches. Good at actions. Good at showing up, every day, every threat, every premiere.

The box was small. Black. Worn at the edges from living in his pocket for three weeks.

Rumi’s breath caught.

“Vin—”

“Open it.”

She did.

Black opal. Fire in the dark. Around the band, engraved: ‘Yours. Always.’

“Not a diamond,” he said, rough. “Diamonds are for show. This is…” He paused, searching. “This is what you are to me. Dark. Beautiful. Mine.”

Rumi stared at the ring. At him.

“You’re proposing?”

“I’m reminding you.” He took the box, slid the ring onto her finger himself. His hands were scarred, steady. “I asked a year ago. You said yes. This just makes it official.”

She laughed — wet, surprised. “You never asked. You told me we were getting married. In bed. After—”

“After I made you scream my name three times,” he finished, unsmiling. “Still counts.”

Rumi stood. Crossed to his side of the table. Sat in his lap, red dress spilling over his black suit, not caring who watched.

“Ask me properly,” she demanded against his mouth.

Vincent’s hands caught her hips. Anchored her.

“Marry me,” he said. Not a question. A vow. “Let me guard you forever. Let me wake up dangerous and go to bed grateful. Marry me, Rumi.”

She kissed him — hard, claiming, champagne and salt and yes.

“Idiot,” she breathed. “I already said yes.”

He smiled then — rare, devastating. Slid his hand into her hair, pulled her closer.

“Say it again.”

“Yes.” She bit his lip, felt him groan. “Yes. Yes.”

The restaurant applauded. They ignored it.

TATE’S GRAVESIDE

The sky was quiet. Not too bright, not too dark—just calm, like the world had finally learned to breathe again.

Liam stood in front of the headstone, hands buried deep in his coat pockets. His eyes traced her name slowly, like he was memorizing it all over again.

Tate.

A name that still hurt.

Jemimah stood beside him, silent, respectful. The wind brushed past them gently, carrying fallen petals across the marble ground.

“I still come here,” Liam said softly, his voice steady but heavy. “Not because I can’t move on… but because I don’t want to forget.”

Jemimah glanced at him. “You won’t,” she replied. “People like her… they don’t fade.”

A small smile touched Liam’s lips. Sad, but real. “She was stubborn. Loud. Annoying sometimes.” He let out a quiet breath. “But she was brave. Braver than all of us.”

Jemimah nodded, clutching the flowers in her hands a little tighter. “She saved all of us… in her own way.”

Liam crouched, placing fresh flowers on the grave. His fingers lingered there for a moment longer than necessary.

“I’m trying,” he whispered. “To live right. To not waste what she gave us.”

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the trees, almost like a response.

Jemimah stepped closer, her voice soft. “She’d be proud of you.”

Liam stood up slowly, his gaze still fixed on the headstone. “I hope so.”

Then Liam exhaled and turned slightly. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go home.”

Jemimah nodded.

As they walked away, the flowers rested against the grave, bright against the stone—proof that even after everything… love still remained.

CENTRAL PRISON

The corridor was quiet. Too quiet.
Eleanor sat on the cold concrete floor of her cell, her back against the wall, her hands resting limply on her lap. The once powerful woman was gone. In her place was someone hollow—someone counting days she could never escape.

Twenty years.

Twenty years to sit with every choice, every lie, every life she had destroyed.
A guard passed by, keys clinking. Eleanor didn’t look up. She had stopped reacting to the outside world months ago. Time had become her punishment. Memory… her torture.

Across the block, whispers moved like ghosts. Inmates talked, quietly, carefully—about something that had already happened. Something final.

Aimee.

She had been executed a year ago.

Convicted of murder, her crimes undeniable, her arrogance unbroken even to the end. They said she laughed before it happened. Said she never begged. Never apologized.

Just like she lived—defiant, dangerous, and completely unrepentant.

Eleanor closed her eyes slowly.

For a brief second, something flickered across her face. Not grief. Not shock.
Just… emptiness.

A mother who had lost everything.

A woman who had destroyed everything.

And now, she had nothing left but time to remember.

Further down the hall, Evelyn scrubbed the prison floor on her knees. Her sentence was lighter—but no less punishing. Every day, she worked.

Every day, she lived with the knowledge of what she had done, what she had caused.

She paused for a moment, leaning on the mop, her breath shaky.

Aimee was gone.

Eleanor was broken.

And she… she was left to live.

The worst punishment of all.

The guard’s voice snapped through the silence. “Back to work.”

Evelyn lowered her head and continued scrubbing.

LEONARD’S ESTATE

The city glittered like diamonds under the evening sky.

At the top of it all stood Leonard’s empire—taller, stronger, untouchable.
A year had changed everything.

Leonard Clifford was no longer just powerful—he was unstoppable. His name echoed across industries, across continents. Oil. Tech. Music. Real estate. Empires built on precision, intelligence… and a past that had forged him into something unbreakable.

One of the richest men in the world.
And yet—

None of it mattered the moment he saw her.

Giselle.

She stood by the grand piano in the living room, her voice soft as she hummed a melody. Her contract with Atlantic Records had changed her life. The world knew her now. Loved her. Her songs played everywhere—raw, emotional, unforgettable.

But to Leonard… she was still his.

His peace.

His Love .

“You’re hiding from your own party?” his deep voice cut gently through the music.

Giselle turned, smiling. “I needed a moment.”

He walked toward her slowly, like he always did—like she was something sacred. Something to be approached, not rushed.

“On Valentine’s Day?” he teased softly.

She laughed. “Especially on Valentine’s Day.”

He reached her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve changed,” he murmured.

“So have you.”

A pause.

Then she added, softer, “But not in the ways that matter.”

His lips curved. “Good.”

OUTSIDE — GARDEN TERRACE

Laughter filled the air.

Eva sat elegantly, sipping from a glass, watching Lionel and Jeremy argue over food like children.

“You’re stealing from my plate!” Lionel snapped.

Jeremy smirked, completely unbothered. “If you didn’t want me to eat it, you shouldn’t have ordered it.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“It makes perfect sense.”

Richard just laughed as he watched them argue , Jemimah and Liam came in together smiling.

Eva rolled her eyes, smiling. “You two act like you’ve been married for ten years.”

Lionel scoffed. Jeremy just grinned.

But beneath the teasing… there was something real. Something steady. Something that had survived
everything.

Family.

Love.

Peace.

INSIDE — MAIN HALL

Music began to play. Soft. Romantic.
Leonard extended his hand toward Giselle. “Dance with me.”

She placed her hand in his without hesitation. “Always.”

He pulled her close, one hand resting at her waist, the other holding hers. Slowly, they moved—like the world had faded away, leaving only them.

“You remember last Valentine?” Giselle whispered.

His eyes darkened slightly. “I do.”

“Everything was chaos.”

“And now?”

She smiled, resting her head against his chest. “Now… we survived.”

He tightened his hold on her. “No,” he corrected softly. “We won.”

Outside, laughter echoed.

Inside, love settled into every corner of the mansion.

The past was still there—buried in scars, in memories—but it no longer controlled them.

Tonight wasn’t about revenge.

It wasn’t about pain.

It was about everything they had built after it.

Leonard tilted her chin up gently. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Shorty.”

Giselle smiled, eyes shining. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Leo.”

He kissed her.

Slow. Certain. Real.

And for the first time in a long time…

There was no fire.

Only love.

Their fates were intertwined .Love ,real.

Not even the Devil could break them apart .

THE END 🖤

 

But before we move on… let’s talk about this journey we just finished 
I need to hear from you all 

WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER?

WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE MAKE CHARACTER?

WHICH VILLAIN DID YOU HATE THE MOST ?

WHICH CHARACTER TOUCHED YOUR HEART?

WHO WILL YOU MISS?

AND WHICH MOMENT IN THE STORY SHOCKED YOU THE MOST ?