In the gritty industrial heart of Macau, a massive warehouse stood as the silent witness to a high-stakes exchange. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of oil and gunpowder as crates of weaponry were traded for cold, hard cash between the Italo-German mafia and a powerful local Chinese triad.
Seated regally in a high-backed chair, legs crossed with effortless dominance, was Kaisen Kingsley. At thirty years old, the head of the Kingsley syndicate was a man defined by his heritage—a bloodline of ruthless Alphas that spanned nine generations. Standing at a towering 1.90 meters with razor-sharp features, he was the personification of "dangerously handsome." In Italy, he was as famous for his iron-fisted rule as he was for his playboy lifestyle. Models across the continent vied for a night in his bed, knowing full well he was a man who "collected" experiences but never hearts. He took what he wanted, enjoyed it, and discarded it without a second thought.
Kaisen had come to Macau to finalize a deal with the local kingpin, Kui Jing Tian. The transaction was moving with professional fluidly; both men respected the "straight talk" policy that had kept their families in partnership since the days of their grandfathers.
"Mr. Kingsley, do you prefer the payment in physical cash or a bank transfer?" Jing Tian asked. He operated through a sophisticated web of encrypted accounts that could move millions under the radar of any international police force.
"Transfer it," Kaisen replied, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "The amount is too small to have my men lugging heavy suitcases around. It's a hassle."
Within seconds, a notification chirped. Half a million dollars had landed in his private account. Kaisen stood up, shaking hands with Jing Tian.
"Pleasure doing business, Mr. Kingsley. If I find myself in Italy, I shall certainly drop by," the Triad boss offered.
"The doors of the Kingsley estate are always open to you," Kaisen countered smoothly before heading out.
He retreated to his luxury hotel suite, accompanied only by his right-hand man, Raymond. The rest of his men had been given the night off to enjoy the neon-soaked hedonism of Macau—Kaisen was a "chill" boss in that regard; as long as the job was done, he didn't care how they spent their leisure time.
Back in his room, Kaisen poured a glass of vintage red wine, staring out at the Macau skyline with the arrogance of a man who owned the world. But as the minutes ticked by, a familiar restlessness kicked in. He was used to having a woman in his bed every night, and the dry spell of this business trip was starting to grate on his nerves. He had never tasted a Chinese woman before, and the curiosity began to burn.
"Raymond," Kaisen barked. "Go find me a woman. Now."
"Understood, Boss," Raymond replied without hesitation. It was a routine request.
Half an hour later, Raymond returned with a stunning find. She was petite, with porcelain skin that looked soft as silk and lips a natural, teasing red. Her eyes were bright and mischievous, and she filled out a tight red dress in a way that immediately caught Kaisen's predatory gaze. Raymond, seeing the look of approval on his boss's face, didn't stick around to play third wheel. He figured his work was done and slipped out to find some fun of his own.
The girl was a natural flirt. She didn't seem intimidated by Kaisen's size or aura; instead, she walked straight over and settled herself onto his lap. Kaisen felt an immediate surge of heat. He gripped her waist, his hands wandering over her curves with possessive interest.
"Tell me your name, little one," Kaisen murmured, his voice low as he pressed his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck, inhaling her scent. She smelled like sweet jasmine.
"My name is Liao Ping," she cooed, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "But you can call me whatever you like. I don't mind."
Kaisen chuckled, charmed by her boldness. He hoisted her up and tossed her onto the bed, his self-control fraying. He was ready to see what the legendary beauties of the East had to offer.
"Mmm, don't be in such a rush," Liao Ping teased. She playfully pushed him back onto the mattress and climbed on top of him. Kaisen laughed loudly, enjoying the view of this tiny firecracker taking charge.
She began unbuttoning his shirt, her slender fingers grazing his sculpted chest. "Do you like this?" she whispered, reaching for a bottle of wine and pouring him a fresh glass. She fed it to him with a coy smile, and Kaisen, intoxicated by the moment, drank it all down.
As she leaned in to kiss him, Kaisen felt the world start to tilt. Her face blurred, splitting into two, then three. A heavy, drug-induced fog slammed into his brain. Before he could even register the betrayal, his head hit the pillow, and he was out cold.
"Heh... stupid man," Liao Ping whispered, her flirtatious persona vanishing instantly.
The truth was, twenty-year-old Zhao Liao Ping wasn't a girl for hire. She was a genius-level IT prodigy and a professional grifter who survived by fleecing arrogant rich men. Having grown up as an orphan without a formal education, she used her self-taught hacking skills to survive. She had no family and nothing to lose, which made her incredibly dangerous.
She pulled Kaisen's phone from his pocket. With a few expert swipes, she bypassed his security and accessed his banking app. When she saw the balance—the half-million dollars from the earlier deal—her eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store.
"Jackpot."
She quickly wired the entire amount to a series of ghost accounts. Once the transaction cleared, she tucked the phone back into his hand, took a cheeky selfie with the unconscious mafia don as a "souvenir," and even blew him a mocking kiss.
"Thanks for the donation, handsome! You're my lucky star," she giggled, slipping out into the night before the hotel corridor even stopped echoing with her footsteps.
The next morning, Raymond returned to find his boss still passed out. After several minutes of vigorous shaking, Kaisen finally groaned awake, his head throbbing.
As the memories of the previous night trickled back, Kaisen checked his accounts. Zero. The realization hit him like a physical blow. He ran a hand through his hair, alternating between murderous rage and a dry, disbelief-filled laugh. He—Kaisen Kingsley—had been played. Not by a rival don, but by a girl half his size.
He hadn't even gotten his "taste," and she had walked away with half a million of his dollars. The embarrassment in front of his men was almost worse than the financial loss.
"Liao Ping, my darling..." Kaisen muttered, his eyes darkening with a terrifying focus as he donned his designer blazer. "You can dig a hole to the center of the earth, and I will still find you."
The flight to Italy was cancelled. He wasn't leaving Macau until he found her. He wanted his money back, but more than that, he wanted her. He hadn't finished what they started, and if he didn't hunt down the girl who dared to rob a Kingsley, he didn't deserve the name.
The hunt was on.