1 My wife and I have a wild side. One night, on a whim, we decided to do some role-playing at an exclusive nightclub. She was kneeling between my legs, her voluptuous figure in a French maid outfit brushing against my thighs. “Oh, sir,” she cooed, “won’t you take pity on me? Take me home?” Just then, a man pointed a finger at my wife and shouted, “I thought I had my pick of the models here. I want that one!” I quickly tried to explain. “Sir, you misunderstand, this is my—” He cut me off. “What do you mean, yours? She’s with me tonight. Get lost.” A staff member pulled me aside, whispering urgently, “That’s Preston Vance, the Vance family heir. I hear Isabelle Hawthorne, the Hawthorne heiress, is chasing after him. We can’t afford to cross him. Just let him have her. We’ll set you up with someone even better.” I looked at Isabelle. Her eyes were welling up with tears, and her lip trembled. “I didn’t do anything, darling,” she whispered, perfectly in character. … Isabelle and I had just wrapped up a major project at our company and were looking forward to a long, relaxing holiday weekend. Who could have predicted this? The man, Preston, was now berating a server. “Didn’t I tell you to bring any new talent to me first?” Then his gaze, slick with avarice, landed back on Isabelle. “Now this one… what a pretty face. And that body…” Isabelle quickly draped my suit jacket over her maid outfit, looking at me with wide, pleading eyes. “Sir, I don’t want to go with him. Please, you have to protect me.” She even ducked behind me for effect. I had to suppress a groan. She was really getting into this. We’ve always shared a taste for the theatrical—doctor and patient, boss and secretary, cop and criminal… no scenario was off-limits. I just never thought we’d be so convincing that someone would actually mistake us. Isabelle and I exchanged a look. I cleared my throat. “My good sir,” I began, “I believe I was here first. There’s a certain etiquette to these things. Besides, the young lady clearly isn’t interested in your company. Perhaps after I’ve had my fun…” Isabelle pinched me hard from behind. Preston tossed his head back, his voice dripping with contempt. “Who the hell do you think you are? In Miami, if a coin drops from the sky, it lands in a Vance’s pocket. Got it? I don’t care. She’s serving me tonight.” With that, he pulled out a thick wad of cash and slapped it across Isabelle’s face. A red welt immediately appeared on her cheek. “Come with me, sweetheart,” he sneered. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll triple it.” Isabelle’s expression darkened for a split second. No one, besides me, had ever dared to be so insolent to her. Her knuckles turned white—a telltale sign she was about to lose her temper. I was afraid she’d blow our cover. We’d agreed to keep a low profile on this trip, bringing nothing that would identify us, just wanting to enjoy some time alone. If the paparazzi caught Isabelle Hawthorne, the sole heiress to the Hawthorne global empire, in a sexy maid outfit at a nightclub, her father’s blood pressure would skyrocket. I quickly stepped in front of her, stroking her hair soothingly. Before I could speak, Preston shoved me hard. “Get lost, you little punk, before I make you disappear from Miami by morning. Bodyguards! Throw him out. I’m having this woman tonight.” The onlookers seemed unfazed, whispering among themselves. “Damn, that guy must be from out of town. Trying to steal a girl from Preston Vance? He’s got a death wish.” “He’s finished. The Vances run this city. He won’t see the sunrise tomorrow.” My mind raced. The Vances of Miami? I was aware of them, but I didn’t recall their influence being quite so absolute. “I’d like to see you try,” I said, my voice low and cold, stopping the advancing bodyguards in their tracks. It was a tone accustomed to command, and for a moment, the large men hesitated. Preston just laughed, more arrogant than ever. He reached out and tipped Isabelle’s chin up. “Fine, I won’t touch him,” he purred. “You spend the night with me. You please me, and I’ll let him go. Otherwise… well, you know what happens.” Isabelle’s face was glacial. She jerked her head away, but that only seemed to fuel Preston’s desire to conquer her. He blew a ring of smoke in her face. “A spicy one, are we? Does your family know you do this for a living?” My lips twitched. If they knew, all hell would break loose. Playing the hero, I stepped between them again. “Who are you? She’s the top girl here. You’ll have to get in line.” Preston looked outraged, as if I’d uttered the highest form of blasphemy. He reached to pull Isabelle toward him. She let out a theatrical gasp, as if truly terrified. “Sir, save me!” We were both deep in the performance now. I swept my arm out, pulling Isabelle into my embrace. “I’d like to see anyone try and take her from me tonight.” Preston was practically hyperventilating with rage. He snapped at the club manager. “Find out when she was hired. How can she be so insubordinate?” The manager returned a moment later, looking flustered. “Sir… it appears she doesn’t work for us.” Preston smirked. “Well, she does now.” He grew more animated, barking orders at the manager. “Since she’s not on your payroll, sign her up. Take her for training. Teach her properly how to please her master.” The manager wiped sweat from his brow, bowing obsequiously as he produced a file. I glanced at it. It was a detailed profile of Preston Vance’s… particular sexual preferences and favorite positions. The content was so graphic I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. “Mr. Vance,” I said dryly, “you certainly know yourself well.” Isabelle, looking disgusted, snatched the paper, tore it to shreds, and threw it in the trash. “Mr. Vance, I have no interest in knowing any of that.” She muttered a curse in French, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. I glanced at my watch. We were scheduled to attend a financial summit later tonight. There was no more time to play games with this fool. Opting for the path of least resistance, I decided to tell him the truth. “Mr. Vance, we’re husband and wife. We’re just tourists here, and what you saw was just a bit of private fun between us.” Preston scoffed. “Spare me the bullshit. I don’t care what your relationship is. I saw her, I want her. There’s never been a woman I couldn’t have.” His threats were so empty they were almost laughable. “Mr. Vance, this is kidnapping. There are security cameras everywhere. Are you not afraid of us calling the police?” At the mention of the police, he became even more brazen. “Go ahead. Even if they show up, you think they’ll take your side?” He gestured to his bodyguards, who moved to pull us apart. He had the manager shove another document at my wife, then grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head down to look at it. “Study up,” he hissed. “We’ll be putting this to practice tonight. Ditch this pathetic loser and stick with me. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied every single night. But you know the rules—no drama in front of the Hawthorne heiress. You know how she’s dying to be with me.” A sudden, intense chill emanated from Isabelle. She slowly lifted her head, her eyes like chips of ice. “Satisfied every night? That sounds interesting. I just wonder, Mr. Vance, if you’ll live long enough to enjoy it.” Preston was taken aback, his hand instinctively loosening its grip on her hair. He even took a half-step back. I poked his arm, my face a mask of curiosity. “Mr. Vance, are you referring to Isabelle Hawthorne, from the Hawthorne family?” He snapped back to his senses, his confidence returning. He puffed out his chest. “Of course. Look, this is the token of her love she gave me.” I followed his gaze. A sapphire ring the size of a robin’s egg glittered on a chain around his neck, looking almost identical to the one on my own finger. He noticed my ring and sneered. “Your fake is pretty convincing. But I hate it when people copy my things.” A vicious look entered his eyes. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. Isabelle struggled against the bodyguards holding her, but they were professionals. Two more guards pinned me as Preston crudely ripped the ring from my finger and tossed it into a nearby drain grate. I slowly raised my hand, rubbing the red marks on my wrist, a cold smile playing on my lips. That ring was custom-designed by Isabelle herself. She’d gone through more than a dozen sketches to finalize the design. The flawless blue sapphire at its center was one she’d acquired at auction for an eight-figure sum. I never took it off unless absolutely necessary. But some people just love to stare down the barrel of a gun. I sighed. “Mr. Vance, you couldn’t afford to replace that ring if you sold your entire family’s company.” Preston’s smile widened. “It’s just a knockoff, you peasant. Tell her to stay, and I’ll toss you a couple hundred for your trouble.” Isabelle stopped struggling, her eyes fixed in disbelief on the drain. That ring was a symbol of our love. She’d get upset if I even took it off to shower. Preston chuckled, picking up a glass of red wine and pouring it over Isabelle’s head. “Imagine, someone imitating the ring my Isabelle gave me. That’s the limit of your pathetic world.” “Stop looking for it. Be my woman, and I’ll buy you a hundred real gemstone rings.” Isabelle looked up, her eyes blazing with a crimson fury. She slapped the glass from his hand. I had never seen her lose her composure like this. “I don’t know who this ‘Hawthorne heiress’ you speak of is,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “But I am the sole heir to the Hawthorne family.” Preston just laughed, his eyes roaming over her wine-soaked dress. “Alright, sweetheart, anyone can pretend to be a Hawthorne. You must hate me, right? Why don’t you take it out on me in bed?” Then, another thought seemed to strike him. He ordered his men to tie her up. “I only want children born from Hawthorne blood. To prevent any accidents, you’re going to have a little procedure done right now. A sterilization.” Isabelle’s voice was low, steady, and colder than death. “Mr. Vance, I’ll warn you one last time. I am Isabelle Hawthorne. You should let us go. Now.” Preston waved a dismissive hand. “Sure, sure, whatever you say.” He grabbed her hand and forced her thumbprint onto a binding contract. “There. Black and white. You’re mine now. Try to break it, and you’ll be paying a hefty penalty.” Isabelle radiated pure frustration. “Mr. Vance, the Vance Corporation has been struggling to innovate for years, hasn’t it? Does your father really let you run wild like this?” Preston’s eyebrow shot up. “So what? The Hawthorne heiress and I are practically engaged. My father will definitely secure her investment at the summit tonight.” Isabelle laughed, a chilling sound. “I imagine the summit is in complete chaos right about now.” I glanced nervously at the clock on the wall. “What do we do now?” I asked her in French. She shook her head, her voice devoid of emotion. “The gala can’t start without us. The guests will be arriving soon. I’ve already given instructions. Someone will be here for us shortly.” I checked my watch. We really had to go. It wouldn’t do to keep our guests waiting. We truly had no more time to waste on this madman. Preston’s shrill voice interrupted us as he yanked Isabelle’s head around. “What gibberish are you two speaking?” I mustered my remaining patience. “Mr. Vance, we’re in a hurry. There are a lot of people waiting for our investment at the Miami Gala. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.” He looked at me like I was insane. “Are you crazy? The Hawthorne family is hosting the financial summit tonight. You can lie to me, but don’t start believing your own delusions. You really think you’re Isabelle Hawthorne?” They bound Isabelle and put tape over her mouth, preparing to drag her to a back-alley clinic for the procedure. I pulled out my phone, quickly snapped a photo, and sent it to a group chat. “Anyone want to claim their lost puppy? The gala is delayed. Isabelle is currently… indisposed.” Before I could get a reply, Preston slapped the phone from my hand. It shattered on the floor. “You little piece of trash,” he sneered. “Calling for backup? Not even God can help you now. Don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of her from now on.” He started to lead Isabelle away, pausing to pat his hands together with satisfaction and shoot me a triumphant look. “Once she’s been… cleaned up, she’ll be all mine.” My expression didn’t change. “Preston Vance,” I repeated, “she is the sole heir of the Hawthorne family. If a single hair on her head is harmed, the Hawthornes will not let you go.” He laughed contemptuously. “Still talking tough. You’ve got a death wish, impersonating the Hawthorne heiress.” I looked him straight in the eye. “You should let us go now. Our people are about to arrive.” Preston roared with laughter. “You just can’t stop pretending, can you? Were you two born in a dumpster? Because you’re full of trash.” At that exact moment, a series of crisp, coordinated footsteps echoed from the entrance. Everyone turned to look. A phalanx of men in black custom-tailored suits appeared as if from nowhere, swiftly securing every exit in the corridor. Someone in the crowd gasped. “Oh my god, isn’t that the Hawthorne security detail? I’ve only ever seen them in the news.” “That’s them! Look at the crest on their jackets. That’s the elite team that only serves the core members of the Hawthorne family.” Preston was startled at first, but then his face broke into a massive, triumphant grin. He waved at the imposing woman being escorted at the center of the detail. “Darling, I’m over here! Quick, get rid of this troublesome man for me.” The woman’s face froze in confusion. “Preston? What are you doing here?” Then, another cry went up from the crowd. Outside, a fleet of hundreds of luxury cars was pulling up, a river of polished chrome and tinted windows. A helicopter was descending onto the rooftop. It was every single VIP guest scheduled to attend the gala. After all, everyone wanted to see who was audacious enough to delay the Hawthornes.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "385395", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel