The luxury five-star hotel suite was heavy with a lingering, dark fragrance.
On the king-sized bed, Diana Bell was pinned down by a man whose body was as lean and powerful as a predator's. His burning palms moved with an aggressive possessiveness, gripping her soft thighs with a heat so intense it threatened to incinerate her very sanity.
Their heartbeats synced in the silence, the air between them fractured and tangled by their ragged breaths.
"I'm going to kiss you now."
The man's voice was low and magnetic, carrying a primal edge bred into his bones. He leaned down, his scorching breath trailing over the shell of her ear like wildfire, sending a delicate shiver through her entire frame.
The moment their lips met, it felt as though their souls had collided with a bruising force.
Diana's long lashes fluttered violently. In a swirl of vertigo, she surrendered, wrapping her arms around the man's neck.
On the floor, the tangled mess of discarded clothes bore witness to the earlier frenzy: a bespoke obsidian-black suit lay ruthlessly atop pink lace lingerie, and a torn skirt was draped across the floor-to-ceiling window like a silent monument to what had been lost.
"Your first time?"
Sensing the sudden rigidity in the body beneath him, William Knight paused. His narrow, deep-set eyes swirled with desire in the darkness. He ran a large hand gently down her spine, soothing her like one would a startled kitten. "Don't be afraid. If you feel uncomfortable, tell me."
His voice was hoarse to the extreme, laced with a soul-stirring tenderness.
In the height of the moment, like a drowning person clutching a piece of driftwood, Diana tilted her head back and bit down hard on the man's sexy Adam's apple.
It was the most vulnerable, yet most masculine, part of him.
"Use a condom," she whispered, her voice soft but her mind sharp.
The veins on William's neck pulsed. He let out a low, dark chuckle, his long fingers reaching for the nightstand to tear open a packet.
"As you wish."
That night, he was both the refined gentleman and the ferocious beast. Sweat and pheromones fermented in the quiet air, composing an insatiable symphony.
When Diana next opened her eyes, it was already 8:00 PM the following day.
She felt as if her entire skeletal frame had been dismantled and glued back together. That man's stamina was bordering on inhuman, tossing her between the clouds and the abyss repeatedly.
She tried to prop herself up, but a heavy weight suddenly pressed down on her waist.
Glancing sideways, she saw a pale, marble-like arm with tight, corded muscle draped across her. The flashes of last night—bold, scandalous, and utterly transgressive—exploded in her mind, turning her cheeks crimson.
Last night, her stepsister, Aurora Stone, had drugged her and sent her into this room. Diana had expected a living hell, but instead, she had encountered "him"—a man who seemed to be in the same drugged predicament.
Because the lights were off, her senses had been magnified.
Though she couldn't see his face, she remembered the meticulous way he wiped her sweat and the patient tenderness with which he held her afterward. That unexpected "bedroom etiquette" had miraculously soothed the terror of her first time.
She wanted to see his face, but the moment she moved to sit up, she was struck by a wave of self-loathing.
At five-foot-seven, she weighed 180 pounds. In the cruel circles of the social elite, she was a public laughingstock—the "Tank" of the debutante balls, the "Piggy" in Aurora's mocking jokes.
When the lights were off, their souls were a perfect match. With the lights on... it would be a visual catastrophe.
Diana gave a self-deprecating smile. She gently moved the man's arm away, her legs nearly buckling as her bare feet hit the floor.
Looking at the shreds of her ruined dress, she had no choice but to throw on the man's white shirt and blazer. The oversized garments barely hid her silhouette. She stole one last glance at the man's lean, muscular back, a flicker of guilt crossing her heart.
Since she had enjoyed such "top-tier service," she felt she should leave something behind.
She scavenged through her bag and found only a single coin left over from a claw machine game.
Clink.
A silver coin was placed on the mahogany table, gleaming with a cold, almost mocking luster under the moonlight.
Then, enduring the ache in her body, she fled through the fire exit.
Just as she reached the stairwell corner, she heard Aurora's malicious laughter: "Mom, don't worry! That fat pig Diana is definitely being ruined by that balding, foul-breathed Brooks' GM right now. Once she either kills herself or her reputation is trashed, the Bell family fortune will be all ours!"
"She probably has no clue that those 'vitamins' we've been feeding her every day were actually growth hormones!"
Hiding in the shadows, Diana dug her nails into her palms until they bled.
So that was it!
She looked down at her swollen hands, her eyes igniting with a lethal ferocity. Since you want me to die in the mud, I'll climb out and become the thorniest rose you've ever seen.
For one whole year, Diana Bell vanished from the social scene.
She cut off every high-calorie addiction. When the hunger made her stomach cramp, she downed gallons of water; when the cravings brought her to tears, she slapped herself awake.
Squats, long-distance runs, strength training.
From 180 pounds to 150... then 120... until today: 100 pounds.
Weight loss is the world's most brutal form of penance, but it is also the most perfect plastic surgery.
When she stood before the mirror again, the woman reflected there had a face so radiant it was almost ethereal. Her jawline was sharp as a blade, her waist slender enough to be held in one hand, and her signature long legs glowed ivory against her red dress.
She was no longer "Piggy." She was the Red-Dressed Succubus, returned for vengeance.
Just then, her stepmother Catherine Archer called. Her voice was as falsely sweet as ever: "Diana, dear, I've found a good match for you. He's fifty, divorced with two kids, but he doesn't mind that you're a human landmine! Hurry to Table 9 at the Island Cafe for the blind date. Even if you have to beg on your knees, make sure he likes you, understood?"
Diana let out a cold laugh, her red lips curving upward. "Of course. I'll be there on time."
Outside the Island Cafe, a limited-edition Rolls-Royce pulled to a smooth stop.
In the backseat, William Knight sat with his eyes closed, his strikingly handsome face clouded with a dark, brooding intensity.
It had been a year.
He had searched for that woman for an entire year.
That night, he had given away his "first time." He considered himself to have been gentle, attentive, and technically proficient—and in return, that woman had left him one dollar?
One dollar!
It was the ultimate insult to The Knight Family Heir. Every time he thought of that coin, he wanted to drag her back and "teach her a lesson" for three days and nights straight.
"Lord Knight, we've arrived," the assistant whispered cautiously.
William opened his eyes, his long lashes casting shadows over his piercing gaze. He was only here today to appease his family's demand for a blind date.
He stepped out of the car, his long legs carrying him toward the cafe.
Seconds after he entered, a silhouette in a dress as red as a raging fire passed by his car.
Diana walked in slim stilettos, each step a rhythmic, swaying dance of confidence. Her beauty was so vivid and bold that the entire street seemed to lose its color.
She pushed open the doors of the cafe, heading straight for the battlefield known as a "blind date."