Bride of Retribution: Aloof Billionaire's Dominant Game

”Do you like me?”

He looked at the woman in front of him through drowsy, half-awake eyes, obedient like a little white rabbit—was this his Avery Jane?

He closed his eyes, his thick eyelashes trembling lightly. That kind of sorrowful expression made anyone who saw it feel their heart crack.

”I do.” The girl’s voice was soft, like a breeze brushing past.

He’d drunk too much, yet his mind was still in such a mess that he didn’t even hear the girl’s ”I do.” Lazily leaning back on the sofa, one hand holding a glass of liquor, he used the other to undo the buttons of his shirt, exposing in an instant a rugged, sexy collarbone and a small expanse of solid chest.

”Why don’t you want to do it with me? Is it really that unbearable?” He tossed back the liquor in his glass in one gulp; maybe only with the courage of alcohol could he bring himself to ask.

”Avery... why don’t you want to do it with me... hmm?” He slowly leaned closer, a haze blurring his gaze. He really seemed to have had too much to drink, he could barely make out his little sweetheart anymore. He tried hard to see, but all he could make out was her pale little face and that inky black hair...

”I’m willing...” Her voice was fine and delicate. She nestled quietly against the man’s side; his body radiated the heavy scent of alcohol, and under that, that masculine scent even strong liquor could not mask—bold, rugged, intense, the kind that made people sink into it against their will...

She leaned in lightly, her fingers brushing over the buttons of his shirt. The buttons were special, giving off a cold metallic sheen, with a letter ”H” on them that you wouldn’t notice unless you looked closely.

The smell was a little different, a faint jasmine fragrance, perhaps mixed with a candy-like sweetness of fruit. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t Avery Jane’s scent. Avery Jane’s scent came from her own body, light and subtle, yet the very thing he was addicted to.

He opened his eyes and, using the dim light in the room, took in the woman beside him. She was still very young, even younger than Avery Jane, tender like an unripe olive. Her gaze on him held a hint of shyness. Beneath the tight white dress, the graceful lines of a young girl’s figure were traced out clearly. Of course he knew that by coming here, they would definitely arrange for the cleanest, gentlest woman to accompany him—only, he had just wanted a drink.

The girl looked into his eyes, mysterious and sorrowful like the middle of the night. That kind of gaze made even her own heart ache.

She rose softly to her feet, reached a hand behind her back and tugged; the invisible zipper was pulled all the way down. Her hands loosened, and the dress slipped soundlessly to the floor. On her luminous white body, every inch of young skin glowed faintly under the hazy lights, as if so tender that a pinch would draw water, breathing out an infinite, beautiful aura of youth...

”I’ll help you forget your troubles...” She gently removed the last small scrap of cloth covering her body. That shadowed place held a temptation that could drive men mad—clean, beautiful, a young body no man could resist, especially a man drunk on liquor. The corners of the girl’s lips curled in a smile; though shy, she was confident enough that no man could refuse her initiative.

”I never stay overnight with clients. Sir, I’m still very clean.” She wanted to give her body only to a man worthy of it. And he was so handsome; his tall, imposing frame was filled with a sense of safety that made one want to lean into him without thinking.

He’d drunk so much, drifting in and out of clarity. His mood was clearly bad; he must have run into something that upset him.

His lonely eyes were like those of a child abandoned by the whole world. The girl opened her arms and pulled him into her embrace against her chest.

He wasn’t like those tasteless men from before, who used alcohol as a pretext to take advantage of her. Some of them were old enough to be her father, yet still harbored such disgusting thoughts. But he was different. When he came in, he didn’t even lay a hand on her. He hadn’t requested her either. Even though she was the most sought-after girl here, the one with the biggest name, the moment he arrived the manager anxiously sent her in and told her that if this guest wanted anything, she had to say yes tonight.

At first she was very unwilling to come in, but the moment she saw this man, her heart was already drunk. To give herself to him—of course she was willing. A man like this, just a few more glances and he could steal your very soul away. Was he a god, or a demon? Or perhaps a fusion of both...

Shadows and light dappled the room, suffusing it with an ambiguous, sultry atmosphere...

The door was suddenly pushed open. A small figure walked in. What was this supposed to be?

Avery Jane’s mind roared as if it had exploded. Calm down, calm down. The man sitting on the sofa was blocked by the woman’s naked body; she couldn’t see his face, but she was certain—it had to be him.

Even in this heavy mix of powdery perfume, his scent still surged so strongly it made one’s heart quake.

His hands were not on this woman’s body. One hand held his glass, the other rested on the back of the sofa chair. He hadn’t taken the initiative—and he’d been drinking, drinking quite a lot, hadn’t he? But could that be an excuse? Could that count as an excuse for drunken infidelity?