Locked in the villain’s mansion, I finally snapped and slapped him. The delicate golden chains on my wrist chimed mockingly. Instantly, a stream of comments flooded my vision: [Is this villainess blind? Who else in this entire story actually gives a damn about her besides Ross?] [LMAO, she only has eyes for the hero. Can't wait to see how spectacularly she screws this up for herself.] I stared, confused. The comments froze for a second, then exploded with renewed intensity: [WHOA, hang on. Nobody told me the villainess looked like *that*?!] [Ross, you idiot! A woman who looks like this, and you’re not on your knees for her yet?! If you won’t, I will!] [Baby, don't reward him! He's a total creep, I'm afraid he's gonna lick your hand!] Before the thought even finished, I felt a sudden, wet warmth spread across my palm. 1 My eyes went wide. I snatched my hand back as if I’d been burned. Ross Bowen adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice a low rumble. “Done yet?” The muscles under his tailored suit were a testament to coiled power—broad shoulders, a lean waist. He projected an aura of cold, detached authority. You’d never guess this was the man who had just licked my palm. I lost my nerve. My hand balled into a fist at my side as I glared at him, all my fight gone. In the city, whispers and rumors clung to Ross Bowen like a second skin. An MIT prodigy, a special forces operative at twenty-two, and by twenty-four, the undisputed king of the Bowen empire. My most vivid memory of him, however, was from a family gala last year. I was still with my ex-fiancé then. I’d accidentally picked up Ross’s medical report and my eyes had latched onto a single, damning line: Erectile Dysfunction. I’d looked up, my brain short-circuiting. “Uh, Uncle Ross… you… you can’t…?” The words were stuck in my throat. “You’re… out of order?” Ross had calmly taken the report from my numb fingers, not a hint of shame in his voice. “An old injury from my time in the service.” “Can it… can it still be used?” He considered this for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his lips. “It works when I’m with someone I really, really like.” My mind was a complete blank. “Ha, um, okay, well, that’s great. Hope you can use it soon.” I nearly bit my tongue off. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean, I hope you find someone you like soon.” And now, in a cruel twist of fate, that boomerang had come right back and hit me. I rattled the chains on my wrist, my voice full of impotent rage. “When are you going to let me out of here?” Ross’s tone turned to ice. “What’s the rush? Eager to run back to your ex-fiancé?” I thought for a moment, then answered seriously, “No. You kidnapped me so suddenly, I didn’t even get a chance to quit my job at the diner.” 2 I was Scarlett Vance, heiress to the Vance fortune, raised on champagne and caviar with a handsome, childhood-sweetheart fiancé by my side. Then came my twentieth birthday party, one month ago. A scholarship student from my university, a girl I barely knew, showed up at my family’s estate. In front of all our guests, she dropped to her knees with a dramatic thud, her voice choked with tears. “Miss Vance, why did you frame me for stealing your gold necklace? I’m so sorry, I can’t possibly afford to pay it back. Please, let me work as a maid in your house to repay my debt!” I just stared at her, dumbfounded. First of all, who the hell are you? And second, I’m Scarlett Vance. I wear diamonds, not gold. Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, she promptly fainted in the middle of our grand hall. She was rushed to the hospital in a flurry of chaos. And then, the tests came back. Oh, joy. A DNA match with my mother. It turned out she was the real Vance heiress. I was the impostor. My parents turned on me, their faces contorted with rage. “You little curse! If it wasn’t for your wicked heart, stealing Chloe’s rightful place, we would never have been separated from our real daughter for so long!” My fiancé, Kevin, stood by with a cold sneer. “I was so wrong about you. Chloe is kind and resilient. You’re not even worthy of being compared to her.” And just like that, on a freezing December night, I was thrown out of the Vance mansion without so much as a winter coat. I rubbed my arms, sighing into the cold air. Well, a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. I wasn’t about to starve. Become a barista? I heard the pay was decent. Or maybe a waitress at a 24-hour diner? At least I could probably crash there at night. The diner was the more practical choice. And so, after serving three hundred cups of burnt coffee and a hundred greasy hot dogs, a black Maybach purred to a stop right outside. My ex-fiancé’s uncle, the true power behind the Bowen family, Ross Bowen himself, stepped out. He stood before me, holding a black umbrella against the sleet, every inch the aristocrat in his bespoke suit. “Scarlett Vance,” he said, his voice cool and detached. “You’re coming with me.” I expertly ripped the plastic film off a cup of instant noodles and poured in hot water. “You’re the thirteenth old guy this month who’s tried to make me his sugar baby. Take a number and get in line.” A deep frown creased Ross’s brow, his presence suddenly menacing. “Other men have been bothering you?” He gave a sharp nod. One of his bodyguards stepped forward. “Miss Vance, my apologies.” And then, as I kicked and squirmed, they stuffed me into the back of the Maybach and sped off into the night. 3 Ross locked me away in his forest villa, a sprawling estate that commanded its own private mountain. Our food was flown in daily by helicopter. The first time I tried to escape, he simply locked the massive front gates. I screamed at him. “You old pervert! Robbing the cradle, kidnapping your nephew’s ex… Aren’t you afraid your ancestors will crawl out of their graves to haunt you?!” In reality, Ross was only twenty-six, just six years older than me. He looked up, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Still thinking about that useless nephew of mine?” The antique bronze key turned over and over in his palm, as if he were stroking someone’s skin. “He got engaged to the real Vance heiress last week, you know,” Ross said, his voice a silken drawl. “Swore up and down that you had deceived him, and that she was the only one he could ever marry.” I sulked, my lower lip pushed out. That night, I drowned my sorrows in two servings of foie gras, a steak, and a lamb chop. Go on, lock me up, I thought, chewing furiously. I’ll eat you into bankruptcy. The third time I tried to escape, Ross finally lost his patience. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his light brown eyes were like cold, hard gems. “Still haven’t learned your lesson, have you, Scarlett?” And that’s when he fastened the thin, solid-gold chain to my wrist. It chimed with every movement, a stark contrast against my pale skin. Furious, I slapped him. And that’s when I saw the comments. [Snowy skin, cherry cheeks, round eyes… OMG, baby, you’re a little ragdoll cat. I wanna kiss you all over!] [Woah, baby, don't slap him! His face is thick enough to handle it, but what if you hurt your precious little hand?] [Can't you see he's secretly loving it? Getting his face touched by your hand… you just made his day, you lucky bastard.] I puffed out my cheeks. “I’ve seen your medical report, you know. You’re broken. What’s the point of this whole ‘kept woman in a gilded cage’ act? You might as well just let me go.” A low chuckle escaped him. His impossibly long fingers, the tips calloused from his time in the service, flickered in front of my face before he gently pinched my cheek. “Who ever said,” he murmured, his touch sending a shiver down my spine, “that’s the only part of me that works?” It took a second for his meaning to sink in. When it did, my face erupted in a fiery blush. How could anyone be so shamelessly crude?! I didn’t dare hit him again; I was afraid he’d lick my hand. I didn’t dare kick him; I was afraid he’d grab my foot. And I certainly didn’t dare curse him out; I was afraid he’d actually enjoy it. Who said I was the villainess in this story? I was the victim here! Weak, helpless, and trembling in my designer boots. I spun around in frustration. “Ross, weren’t you supposed to be expanding your business overseas? What are you even doing back here?” He lowered his gaze to look at me. It was then that I noticed how long his eyelashes were, dark and thick like a raven’s wing. When he looked down like that, it created an illusion of profound, heart-stopping affection. “I came back for you.” The comments provided a more detailed explanation: [It’s because of you, you little idiot! If the big boss didn't come back, you were going to starve to death in that diner!] [Baby, do you remember that charity event when you were a kid? The little boy at the orphanage? That was a baby Ross.] [He was so skinny his bones were sticking out, covered in cuts and bruises. You were the one who bandaged him up, comforted him, and gave him candy. You were his only salvation.] [His backstory is tragic, tbh. His older brother was a screw-up, so his psycho dad dragged him, the illegitimate son, out of the orphanage to be the family's new workhorse. All that pressure fell on him.] [He worked himself to the bone, achieving in a few years what takes others decades, all so he could be free from his family and be with you.] [He fought tooth and nail to become the head of the Bowen family, and when he finally came back for you… oops. The love of his life was engaged to his nephew.] [Heartbroken, our guy left the country and even signed up for a high-risk assignment in a war zone, basically trying to get himself killed. Almost lost his… little brother… in the process, LMAO.] [So of course, when he heard the treasure of his heart was being bullied, he had to rush back and save the day.] Ross and I… we had a history like that? I stared at him, my eyelashes fluttering, a blush creeping up my neck. “You… you like me?” Ross just watched me, his gaze steady. The light from the chandelier pooled in his eyes, turning them into a shimmering lake. He smiled, and the lake rippled. “I’ve been in love with you for sixteen years.” An uncontrollable heat flooded my face, starting at my cheeks and spreading to the tips of my ears. “Then… then why? You’ve had me locked in this villa for so long, but besides that one time I slapped you, you haven’t even laid a finger on me.” The moment the words were out, I clamped my hands over my mouth. But it was too late. The color of Ross’s eyes deepened to a stormy amber. In one smooth motion, he scooped me up and laid me down on the sofa. He tugged on the chain attached to my wrist, making it impossible for me to struggle. And then, his lips were on mine. It was a soft, trembling, impossibly gentle kiss. Just a light press of his lips against mine, nothing more. It was nothing like the predator I thought he was. My body trembled uncontrollably, my heart hammering against my ribs. His kiss was lighter than a butterfly’s wing, and it tickled. I instinctively licked my lips. Ross’s breath hitched. The next moment, the kiss became a storm, a hurricane that swept me off my feet, leaving the whole world shaking. I don’t know how long it was before he finally let me go. His long fingers traced the outline of my mouth, wiping away the moisture. His voice was a low, magnetic hum. “So you like it rough, hmm?” 4 I fled. Scrambling back to my room, I buried my head under the covers like an ostrich, my face burning. All I could see were the comments scrolling through my vision. [Ross’s fingers are so long. Anyone else get that? Hehe.] [Don’t be fooled by his self-control now. The man can take pills, you know!] [And let's not forget he's a legit special forces vet. Those pecs, those abs, that V-line… Damn. I’m seriously worried he’s going to wear our baby girl out.] [AHHHH SHUT UP!! AS A MOM-FAN, I DO NOT APPROVE!!!!] My face grew even hotter. What were they even talking about? I couldn't understand a word. Besides, Ross couldn't perform! The most he could do was kiss me a little. What else was there?! A soft jingle brought me back to reality. The chain was still on my wrist. It was solid gold and surprisingly heavy, making everything awkward. After an hour of tossing and turning, during which the chain slapped me in the face three times, I finally shot up in bed. Fueled by a fresh wave of indignation, I stormed back to Ross’s room. “You old pervert, take this thing off me!” The words died in my throat. I froze in the doorway, taking in the scene before me. A cloud of steam, tinged with the scent of sandalwood, hung in the air. Ross had just taken a cold shower. His dark hair was wet and slicked back, and he turned his head at the sound of my voice. He wasn’t even wearing a towel. Droplets of water traced a path down the sleek muscles of his chest, over the hard planes of his abs. They glistened on his skin, sliding down his taut waist. And lower… I nearly jumped out of my skin, my face hot enough to fry an egg. Words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I thought you couldn't use that?!” A slow, dangerous smile spread across Ross’s face. He walked toward me, a wave of cold air and sandalwood washing over me. His calloused fingertips, still damp, brushed against my cheek, a feather-light, wicked touch. “I told you,” he murmured, his voice a low drawl, “it works when I see someone I really like.” I gaped at him, sputtering “you-you-you” without forming a complete sentence. I snatched the key from his hand and fumbled with the lock on my wrist, my hands shaking. All the while, he just stood there, watching me with a smug, knowing smile, not helping, not touching. Yet his presence, that scent of sandalwood and cold water, was more overwhelming than any touch could be. Click. The chain fell away. This time, I ran from his room even faster than before. My heart pounded against my ribs, my mouth bone dry. I had to down three glasses of iced tea before I could even begin to calm down. Only one thought remained in my head. Thank God… thank God Ross was broken. Because with hardware like that… I might not have survived the night. 5 The leaves outside the window grew lush and green, the cicadas a constant hum. Before I knew it, a month had passed. After that one heart-stopping kiss, Ross hadn't touched me again. It was summer break, so I had no school to attend, and he seamlessly monopolized all of my time. The villa was enormous, equipped with a home theater, a game room, and a full gym. I could spend hours just rolling around on the tatami mats. The backyard was a sprawling lawn with stables, tennis courts, and a golf course. Whenever I wanted to go out, a helicopter would be waiting to fly me to the most exclusive shopping district in the city. He’d book out entire department stores for me, swipe his card for an eight-figure sum, and then we’d fly back, loaded with bags. My days were filled with perfectly balanced meals, eight hours of sleep, and the freedom to go anywhere and do anything I wanted. After a month of being “imprisoned,” I looked healthier than ever—my skin was glowing, my eyes bright. No one would ever believe I was the same fake heiress who had been thrown out of her home just a month ago. So when the invitation arrived, I was stunned. “A banquet to welcome the true heiress back to the Vance family… why would they invite me?” Ross flipped the invitation over. “Chloe specifically requested you. She probably wants to show off.” Chloe. The real heiress. “Do you want to go?” he asked. I thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”
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