Chapter 8

Matthew is so gentle, so decent. He would stop for stray cats on the street, and give me shoulder massages when I'm tired. How could he possibly be a money launderer? How could he be part of the Mafia?

"You're lying!" I shouted. "You're trying to drive a wedge between us! You want me to give in, so you're making up these lies to smear him!"

James looked at my agitated state, pulled out his phone from his pocket, and tossed it in front of me.

"Don't believe me?"

"Then call him now."

"Tell him you want to break up. Tell him you'll never help him handle any accounts again."

I refused.

"Won't call?"

James raised an eyebrow, slowly adjusting the cuffs of his bathrobe.

"Looks like you don't care about Michael's life. I wonder if that waste can even make it to tomorrow."

Another threat I couldn't refuse.

James is a madman, and he keeps his promises.

I picked up the phone with trembling hands and dialed Matthew's number.

"Hello? Ella?"

The call connected, Matthew's familiar gentle voice came through.

"Still working this late? Don't push yourself too hard."

Hearing that gentle voice, my tears nearly fell.

But under James's threat, I had to speak.

"Matthew..."

James was standing there with his arms crossed, staring at me coldly. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Let's... break up."

The other end went silent for a full five seconds.

"Ella, are you joking?" Matthew's voice changed, carrying a hint of anxiety. "Have you been working too hard lately? Or has Mary's condition gotten worse?"

"No!" I interrupted him, saying painfully, "I don't want to do this anymore, and I won't help you handle those accounts anymore. I'm tired, Matthew. We're done."

"Ella! Listen to me, those clients are important, you can't..."

Matthew's tone became urgent, even carrying a hint of viciousness I'd never heard before.

But I couldn't listen anymore. I was afraid that if I listened one more second, I would break down.

I hung up, head down, tears falling heavily onto the back of my hand.

Why? Why force me to do this?

"Satisfied now?"

I looked up, staring at James with red eyes.

"Enjoying the show? Watching me break up with the man who loves me most?"

"I don't understand." I choked out, my voice hoarse and broken. "You have so many women around you, so many models and socialites willing to sleep with you. Why me? I'm just an ordinary accountant. I'm not exactly a knockout, I don't have some killer body, and I'm taking care of a very sick sister. What do you even see in me? Please let me go, I'm begging you..."

James looked at my tear-stained face, and the anger in his eyes actually faded a bit.

He reached out, using his fingertips to wipe away the tears on my face, the motion almost gentle.

"Ordinary?"

"Would an ordinary woman dare to negotiate with me at gunpoint? Would an ordinary woman dare to dance on top of me?"

His hand slid down from my cheek, landing on my neck.

"Ella, the wildness in your bones is more captivating than anyone else's. You just don't know it yourself."

His fingers gradually tightened, not hurting me, but giving me a sense of inescapable pressure.

"As for why you..."

He suddenly leaned in, his lips almost touching mine, warm breath spraying on my face.

"Because prey I've set my sights on never gets away."

His voice was soft like whispering sweet nothings in my ear, but wrapped in that gentleness were thorns, sending chills through my bones.

A hungry growl from my stomach broke the eerie atmosphere. I hadn't eaten in over ten hours.

Embarrassment instantly diluted my fear. My face flushed red, wishing I could find a hole to crawl into.

James paused, a hint of amusement appearing in those dark eyes.

"Looks like my kitten is hungry."

He turned around and picked up a piece of cake that had been prepared on the table.

It was an exquisite red velvet cake, decorated with bright red cherries.

He forked a piece and brought it to my lips. "Open up."

I kept my lips tightly closed, stubbornly turning my head away. "I won't eat."

"Want me to feed you mouth-to-mouth?" James's voice lowered, carrying obvious threat.

My whole body stiffened. I turned my head to meet his teasing gaze. I knew he would do it.

I opened my mouth in humiliation and took the piece of cake. The sweet cream melted on my tongue.

James watched me chew, his eyes growing darker.

He forked another piece. This time when the fork entered my mouth, his finger brushed across my lips.

That electric tingling sensation made my heart skip a beat.

I accidentally bit his finger.

I quickly released it, but James wasn't angry. Instead, he put that finger I'd bitten into his own mouth and licked it suggestively.

My face instantly turned completely red, burning all the way to my ears.

"Tastes good." He stared at my lips, his voice impossibly hoarse. "But I want to taste something else."

"What?" I instinctively shrank back, but behind me was just the empty table. I had nowhere to retreat.

Before I finished speaking, James had already closed in.

He swept the plate with the cake onto the floor, where it shattered.

I was pressed heavily onto the dining table, my back against the hard, cold marble, but in front was his burning chest.

My protests were completely swallowed. His kisses came overwhelming, too domineering to refuse.

His large hand explored under my clothes without obstruction, rough with calluses, causing trembling wherever it passed.

"James, this is the dining room."

I pushed against his shoulders in panic.

"Someone could come in at any time."

"Without my permission, who would dare come in?"

He took my earlobe in his mouth, teeth gently grinding.

"Focus, Ella."

"I'm going to make you remember who you belong to now."

He tore my work blouse, buttons scattering across the floor with crisp sounds.

I wanted to curl up in shame, but he forcibly separated my legs and pushed between them.

He sparked flames on my body again and again. The pain in my heart and the pleasure in my body tangled together, bit by bit devouring my reason.

I thought of Matthew, thought of that gentle smile, but at this moment, his smile became blurred.

In my world, only this demon with silver-gray eyes remained.

He panted in my ear, called my name, forced me to say I was his, and forced me to make love with him.

I hated him.

I really hated him.

But my body, under his control, shamefully responded.

I don't know how long it had been before everything finally quieted down.

I curled up in a corner of the dining room. James was standing nearby with his back to me, putting on his shirt.

He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, his back muscles flowing with defined lines. There were several scratch marks on it—my handiwork.

He fastened the last button and turned around. That impeccably dressed appearance made it seem like the out-of-control beast from earlier wasn't him.

He had transformed back into that high and mighty head of The Smith Family.

"Catch."

A black shirt was thrown at me, landing on my head.

It was his shirt, still carrying his body heat and scent.

"Stay tonight."

His voice returned to coldness.

"Tomorrow morning, my driver will take you back."

James walked to the door, his hand on the doorknob, then his steps suddenly stopped.

"Remember, Ella."

"From now on, you're mine."

"Clean that damn ex-boyfriend out of your head."

"If you don't listen, I'll be very unhappy. And the consequences of my unhappiness are more than you can handle."

The door closed.

Only I remained in the room. I finally couldn't hold back and cried out loud.