Bride of Retribution: Aloof Billionaire's Dominant Game

”Have someone guard her in secret. Once I’ve taken care of a few things, I’ll go to Las Vegas myself tomorrow.”

A faint smile appeared on Joshua Hughes’s face, as if everything were already under control. This was a crucial moment in her life; he didn’t want her to see him distracted. But he could always protect her from the shadows.

Even if she lost in the finals, it wouldn’t matter. She could still take Tate Hunter’s life. Whatever she wanted, he could make it happen for her, regardless of the cost, regardless of the consequences—as long as it was what she wanted.

But since she liked winning at the gambling table, then he had to make sure she won at the gambling table; it would be fulfilling her wish.

In the dark night, the man’s gaze had lost its usual coldness and brutality. When he thought of the woman he loved, his eyes became long and deep, like the vast ocean—tender yet sorrowful.

Avery, I’m willing to do anything for you. You only have to look back, and you’ll see I’ve always been right behind you, never far away...

Time passed quickly, and the day of the competition was drawing near. During the few days she stayed in Las Vegas, she lingered around the casino, but never placed a single bet. She wanted to save all her luck for that one day.

She had to win. First she would take three fingers from that man’s son, so he could never gamble again. For him, that would probably be a fatal blow.

”Sis, the custom outfit you ordered—your friend already had someone bring it over.” Eliza Bell came running in from outside, arms full of bags. As she set down an exquisite one, she handed Avery Jane a steaming, fragrant pork chop bun wrapped in kraft paper.

”I finally managed to get in line today. Actually, I cut the line—I got a handsome guy in front to help me out. The business at this pork chop bun place is amazing; they only sell for a short window, but the smell is really incredible.” She spoke between bites, praising it as she ate.

Avery Jane set the still-hot pork chop bun on the coffee table and took a box out of the delicate bag. The white box, embossed with subtle patterns, was understated yet elegant, tied with a big black velvet bow, the bow studded with tiny diamonds—exquisite and luxurious. Watching the beautiful box, Eliza Bell chewed her bun and cooed, ”Your friend is really something. Just for one dress, they used such a pretty box. If the dress itself isn’t well designed, wouldn’t that be like selling the case and giving away the jewel?”

Avery Jane smiled without replying. When she opened the box, inside lay a black evening gown without a single pattern, not a gemstone sewn on it, resting quietly there—impossible to tell at a glance if it was good or bad.

”I’ll go try it on.” Avery Jane took the box and headed for the bathroom. Eliza Bell kept eating and muttered, ”We’re both women, and she’s still so shy. Guess that lesson really went to waste, huh?”

She only felt her stomach was uncomfortably full after finishing the whole huge pork chop bun from that famous shop. Just as she was about to make herself a cup of tea to cut the grease, she heard the bathroom door open. She turned around, and froze completely. The box was very pretty, but the dress showcased even more the greatness of a designer.

The ultra-thin black spaghetti straps bared large, expansive stretches of perfect back lines to the extreme. The smooth black taffeta set off that jade-like, gleaming skin, simply begging for sin; that exposed back plunged all the way down to the dimples of Venus at her waist, the two sexy little hollows like dimples that made one want to kneel in worship.

Her sister’s dimples at the waist were truly sexy. She remembered reading in a book that the waist dimples, known in the art world as the ”holy dimples,” are one of the hallmarks of an ideal life model. Few women possess them; supposedly they appear in only three percent of women. In Western lore, if the back, like the eyes, is called a window to the beauty of the soul, then those dimples are the beautiful eyes of a woman’s waist. With those eyes, Goddess Beauty will descend! Today, she was truly witnessing the descent of the goddess.

Although this gown used ordinary taffeta fabric, the texture was exceptionally good. Its wide skirt flared like a black poppy, brimming with mysterious allure. Even though it wasn’t completely form-fitting, it still traced the wearer’s figure to the utmost. Despite the large expanse of exposed skin, it appeared noble, never vulgar. Right now she truly admired her sister’s friend.