Chapter 55

Scarlett POV

The taste of rust spread in my mouth as I suppressed my discomfort, with only one thought in my mind: for the sake of my goal, I must endure.

"Are you that desperate to know the bidding price for the scenic area project?" His eyes narrowed, as if searching for my weakness.

I nodded frantically. "Mr. Gray, please help me just this once, will you?" My eyes were moist, not from emotion, but from humiliation. I could feel that this vulnerable expression seemed to satisfy him, which made me feel even more disgusted inside.

A flash of understanding crossed his eyes, the corner of his mouth curling upward slightly, as if he'd discovered something amusing. I knew that at this moment, I was like wounded prey in his eyes, at his mercy.

"So that's why my dear uncle chose to marry you among so many women, a clever woman with such a figure and face," Alexander said with a soft laugh, his fingers lightly tracing my jawline.

His gaze moved slowly from my face to my chest, then to my waist, with naked appraisal. I felt as if I had been stripped bare, as if I were merely an exquisite item displayed in a shop window, rather than a person with a soul.

"Richard has always been good at identifying valuable assets, but he doesn't understand how to properly... invest," he continued, lowering his voice.

"What do you mean?" I asked, though I already guessed the answer wouldn't be what I wanted to hear. An ominous feeling spread through my chest.

"A woman like you, Scarlett—proud, intelligent, beautiful—if you're merely displayed as an exhibit at Richard's dinner parties, don't you think that's too wasteful?" He leaned toward my ear, his breath brushing against my earlobe. I could feel each of his breaths raising tiny bumps on my skin.

"What do you think should be done?" My throat tightened, but I asked anyway. Sometimes I truly hate my curiosity.

"Tamed, slowly, bit by bit, until you understand your true value isn't in bed or at banquets, but in..." He suddenly gripped my chin, forcing me to look directly into his eyes. "Completely shattering your pride, learning absolute submission."

Each of his words was like a blade cutting across my skin. I fought to control my trembling, but couldn't slow my racing heartbeat. Fear and anger intertwined within me, but I couldn't show it, couldn't reveal any weakness before him.

He released my chin, stepping back half a step, his gaze scrutinizing me. I felt as if I were being X-rayed, with no secrets to hide.

After a moment of silence, he nodded. "I'll help you."

Despite hearing his promise, my body remained tense. I had learned not to trust anyone, especially men like Alexander. What was a verbal promise worth? Before action, everything was just empty words.

"Thank you, Mr. Gray." I tried to make my voice sound sincere.

"Call me 'Darling,'" he playfully pinched my cheek.

My stomach churned as waves of shame and humiliation washed over me, but I concealed my disgust, maintaining a docile expression.

But just as I was about to speak, I hesitated, my lips parting slightly before closing again.

"What? Do you want me to withdraw my promise?" He raised an eyebrow, his fingers sliding to the wound on my neck, pressing lightly.

I drew in a sharp breath, then bit my lower lip. "No, Dar...Darling." The term felt like it burned my mouth, I felt a wave of bitterness and humiliation.

Richard and Alexander were more alike than I had imagined, I thought to myself—two controlling psychopaths, each more disgusting than the other.

The only difference was that Alexander's danger was more alluring, which was the most frightening part. I hated myself for even having such thoughts.

"Say it again, I want to be sure you're serious," his fingers moved from my neck to my shoulder.

"Darling," I repeated softly, this time deliberately letting my voice carry a tremor, feigning vulnerability.

I knew he liked to see me vulnerable, so I might as well show him exactly what he wanted to see.

"Once more," his hand slid to my waist, his fingertips applying pressure that forced me closer to him until our bodies were almost touching.

His body heat came through our clothes, causing a strange shiver to run through me.

"Darling," I said the word for the third time, looking up to meet his gaze, trying to convey my "submission" through my eyes. I hated myself for this performance, but I knew it was necessary to please him.

He finally seemed satisfied and released his hold on me. I felt relief, and at the same time a strange emptiness.

When he finally let me go, I rose to leave the bed, intending to spend the night downstairs.

I could sense he had no intention of making love to me tonight—another display of his self-control, or possibly related to his physical condition.

"Stay, sleep right here," he commanded, his voice low and husky, brooking no refusal.

I hesitantly lay down, arms crossed over my chest, my entire body as stiff as a board.

The sheets still retained his warmth, blended with the scent of cedar and whiskey, enveloping my entire body. This intimacy made me feel both fearful and confused.

"You're lying like a corpse. What, is this a coffin?" he teased, his fingers lightly brushing over the wound on my neck, causing me to shudder.

"I'm nervous," I confessed, my voice carrying a slight tremor. I felt blood rushing uncontrollably to where he had touched me, thinking: Who wouldn't be nervous? You just cut my throat with a knife.

"You didn't seem nervous when you were seducing me earlier," Alexander laughed. I was about to protest, but found myself speechless.

"Sleep. If you want to seduce me, wait until morning," he pulled me into his arms. His fingers lightly traced the outside of my thigh, causing me to shiver, then paused at the edge of my intimate area—both a promise and a threat.

I felt each of his breaths, every rise and fall of his chest, and the strong beat of his heart through his skin, intertwining with my own drumming heartbeat.

This forced intimacy suffocated me, yet also provided an inexplicable sense of security.

I slept restlessly, the familiar nightmare invading once again. Obsidian Palace, my earliest memory—where my mother Chloe Smith, Yvette, and I lived in kennels.

I'd had this dream countless times. Then Chloe and Yvette were taken away. Chloe later went insane, set fire to the kennel, and fled with me.

The memories after that were blank, as if swallowed by a dense fog. This past was like a dull knife, slowly cutting into my heart.

I jolted awake from the nightmare, momentarily unable to distinguish between dream and reality. Cold sweat soaked my skin, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

Then I felt it—a sensation both strange and intimate. My body was no longer lying on the bed, but cradled horizontally in a warm embrace.

Alexander, his fingers and breath roamed freely across my skin with the confidence of an owner. I held my breath, my mind blank, left only with shock and an indescribable feeling—he was actually making love to me while I slept!

That feeling of violation instantly surged through me like an unquenchable flame, rapidly spreading throughout my body. I shoved him away forcefully, with such strength that I surprised even myself, nearly falling off the bed.

"Get away!" I hissed, my voice so hoarse it seemed to belong to someone else.

I felt angry, frightened, helpless, but most terrifying of all, I also felt a shameful excitement.