Crimson City.
Inside a five-star hotel.
Clothes were strewn all over the floor. A lace bra tangled with a man’s white shirt, the whole mess quietly screaming what had happened here.
Sylvia Crane opened her eyes, drained to the bone. Every inch of her body ached. It took her a while before she could prop herself up and sit on the bed.
The blanket slid off her body, exposing all those intimate marks from the night before.
Just then, a large hand yanked her back into a hot embrace. She was instantly swallowed by his heat. The man’s voice was low, rough, and way too tempting as he said, "One more time."
His hand reached toward the nightstand, but the box was empty.
Sylvia trembled. The second she remembered how relentless he had been last night, she couldn’t help begging again, "Max... I really can’t take it anymore. Please, let me off this time."
She looked pitiful and soft, that innocent air not fully gone yet, like a frightened little rabbit that made people want to spoil her.
The man suddenly sat up, gave her a gentle look, then said helplessly, "We’re out. Shower."
The blanket slipped from his body, revealing that textbook build—broad shoulders, narrow waist, firm muscles running clean across his upper body, and below that, the faint outline of eight abs.
Sylvia’s face went scarlet. She hurriedly lowered her head, heart thumping like crazy.
The bathroom door shut, and soon the sound of running water filled the room.
She stared at the closed frosted glass door for a long while before quietly getting out of bed and picking up her clothes from the floor to put them back on.
The clothes had been thrown around everywhere, but they had come off neatly enough—because she had taken them off herself.
She hadn’t even finished dressing when the room door suddenly clicked open. Startled out of her skin, she let out a scream and clutched her chest.
Vivienne Whitmore stood in the doorway.
She wore a tight black deep-V bodycon dress that hugged her flawless figure. Her long waves framed her in lazy glamour and effortless luxury.
She lifted one slender finger and casually lowered her sunglasses, revealing a pair of stunning fox-like eyes. She gave Sylvia one dismissive once-over, then put the sunglasses back on.
Sylvia looked flustered as she hurried into her clothes, but a flash of smugness slipped through her eyes. With reddened eyes, she said, "Sister Vivi... no... Mrs. Whitmore, I’m leaving right now. Please don’t be mad."
Vivienne raised a brow slightly, the corner of her lips curving up as she let out a soft laugh. "No, I’m not angry. Why would I be? What rich young master doesn’t keep a few mistresses on the side? The kind that can’t even be brought into the light."
"If this were ancient times, I’d probably have to help my husband take a concubine too, huh?"
Sylvia Crane’s face turned a little pale. Her fingers tightened around the hem of her clothes, but she still forced a smile onto her face.
"I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean for this to happen. But feelings aren’t something you can control, right? When you love someone that much, you just... can’t help yourself."
Vivienne Whitmore stepped into the room in sky-high heels, graceful and steady. She walked over to the sofa and sat down like she owned the place, crossing one long leg over the other before slowly removing her sunglasses.
Her narrow eyes swept over the woman in front of her like she was looking at a piece of trash. There was lazy charm in every flicker of her gaze. Then she let out a soft laugh.
"You really need to know your place. At the end of the day, you’re just a toy. You don’t even qualify to step through the Whitmore family’s front door, so what gives you the right to talk to me about feelings?"
Sylvia secretly bit down on her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. The smile on her face was already starting to crack.
Vivienne kept that faint smile on her lips the whole time. She opened her bag, casually pulled out a thick stack of cash, flicked her wrist, and tossed it onto the floor.
The bills scattered across the carpet, bright and messy, like a red flower blooming open.
"You can go now. Think of that as payment for all your hard work serving my husband."