The moment Corinne's lips met his, disbelief flickered across the man's face. For a split second, his mind seemed to go blank. He was caught completely off guard.

A light floral fragrance mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol swept over him. Her soft, yielding body pressed close, molding against his chest, and the reckless closeness she forced between them—combined with the drug still coursing through his veins—sent heat spiraling through him, rising faster with every heartbeat.

Awkward and unrefined, her kiss lacked any real technique, yet it carried a startling boldness. Without the slightest hesitation, she leaned in harder, her warm breath brushing his lips as her tongue pushed forward, insistent and unrelenting, trying to pry past the barrier of his mouth.

Whatever restraint he had left was slipping, thread by fragile thread.

His hand came up to shove her away, but his palm brushed instead against the sleek warmth of her shoulder, sliding dangerously close to her neck.

That single touch stole the air from his lungs, and for one perilous heartbeat, the strength in his resistance faltered.

In Corinne's alcohol-clouded mind, though, his hesitation didn't read as rejection at all—it felt like playful resistance, the kind meant to be overcome.

Fuelled by liquid courage, her movements turned reckless and bold. She seized his wrist before he could pull back and forced him down into the sofa with surprising strength.

What had begun as an unsteady kiss shifted abruptly, sharpening into something more demanding, more consuming. A faint trace of cedar clung to him, but the heat of his breath against her lips burned in contrast, sending a strange thrill through her. Beneath that composed exterior, something tightly held flickered, and that restraint only made her head spin harder.

With the alcohol heightening every sensation, her fading reason gave way completely to instinct. Her fingers shot out, catching his tie, and she jerked it free in one sharp pull.

In the blink of an eye, everything reversed.

Without warning, a strength she couldn't possibly fight slammed into her, sending her reeling backward. When her vision steadied, she found herself sprawled across the sofa instead. By the time she pushed herself up, the man had already vanished.

The door stood half-open, a thin strip of hallway light slipping into the dim room.

Fixing her gaze on it, Corinne exhaled softly, irritation slipping into her voice.

So this was how he worked as an escort? The thought struck her as absurd.

If even a kiss was too much for him, what was he doing trying to make it in this field?

As the haze of alcohol began to thin, irritation sharpened her senses. Clutching the loosened tie in her hand, she straightened with unsteady determination, already planning to track down the club manager and demand an explanation.

After all, the man had bolted without warning—didn't that mean she was entitled to a refund?

Stepping out into the hallway, she nearly collided with a young man stationed just outside Room 3269.

Everything about him fit the image of a high-end escort—sleek suit, meticulous styling, an air of practiced charm that felt almost rehearsed. He looked impossibly young, barely out of his teens, his features softened by subtle makeup, giving him the polished appeal of a boy-band idol.

At that moment, his gaze flicked between her and the photo on his phone, brows knitting slightly as he checked for a match.

"Ms. Scott? Ms. Curtis told me to wait in 3269 for—"

Before he could finish, Corinne stopped listening entirely. A cold realization slammed into her chest.

Her head snapped up, eyes locking onto the room number above the door.

Oh no, no, no.

She had walked into the wrong room and kissed the wrong man!

Everything else vanished from her mind as she whirled on her heel, abandoning the actual escort without a second glance. Driven by a rising panic, she sprinted after the stranger, desperate to catch him before he decided she was completely unhinged and called the cops.

Her heels struck the floor in rapid, uneven beats, but speed did her no favors—by the time she burst out through the club's entrance, he had already disappeared. Beyond the doorway, only the cool sweep of night air greeted her.

Standing there, she bent slightly as she caught her breath, irritation tangling with a sharp, simmering frustration in her chest.

Just as she turned to head back inside, something near the entrance snagged her attention and refused to let go.

Parked under the glow of the streetlights sat a limited-edition Rolls-Royce Phantom, its sleek body gleaming with authority. The custom vanity plate read APEX1—issued in the city of Saltmere.

A stunned stillness held Corinne in place for a heartbeat. Then recognition crashed through her all at once. More than once, Jonny had gone on about his elusive uncle, his voice laced with envy and something dangerously close to awe. According to him, the man owned a globally limited Phantom. The car itself was breathtaking, but what truly made it unforgettable was the license plate that said everything—APEX1.

Corinne fixed her gaze on the vehicle, her fingers curling tighter around the tie in her hand, the fabric creasing under her grip.

A pair of slaps would never be enough to make Jonny answer for what he had done—the sting of humiliation, the cruelty of his betrayal.

What she craved now went far beyond that, something sharper, something that would linger long after tonight faded.

In her mind, she tore apart the polished image Jonny showed the world, determined to become someone he would never dare belittle again. Even more than that, she wanted to force him into a place where, every time their eyes met, he would have no choice but to lower his head and speak to her with respect.

If she could become his uncle's wife…

Once the idea rooted itself in her mind, she found no way to shake it loose.

That car parked outside wasn't just a car—it was a doorway, a straight path toward the revenge she wanted.

Corinne's pulse slammed wildly against her ribs, sharp enough to sting. She shoved the loosened tie into her crossbody bag, then fumbled out her perfume and spritzed it over herself, trying to drown out the lingering bite of alcohol.

Next came her makeup. She worked quickly, smoothing, blending, fixing every detail with practiced precision before running her fingers through her hair to tame the mess.

When everything was in place, she inhaled deeply, steadying herself, and began walking toward the black car.

Never in her life had she approached a man like this on purpose—let alone someone so far out of her reach that every step made her feel like the ground might give way beneath her.

Countless opening lines flickered through her thoughts, each one dismissed the moment it formed.

Finally, jaw tightening with resolve, she lifted her hand and knocked on the window. Seconds stretched thin and heavy, ticking by with no sign of movement from within.

Right as disappointment and embarrassment started tightening in her chest, the tinted glass slid down abruptly with a soft mechanical hum.

Immediately, her gaze locked onto a pair of icy, unreadable eyes staring back at her.

A strange sense of familiarity tugged at her, halting her breath for a brief, suspended moment.

Then, as her eyes adjusted, the rest of his sharply defined face came into view.

The man she had only glimpsed in shadow earlier was now fully revealed under the clear light, his presence striking with far greater force.

In that brief instant, her thoughts scattered into nothing.

It was him! The very same man she had forced onto the sofa and kissed without restraint just moments ago.

Why on earth was he sitting in this car?

Wait… did that mean he was Jonny's elusive, untouchable uncle?

Inside the car, Andrew Olson sank into his seat while one hand covered his forehead. He tried to push down the heat still spreading through him, but the discomfort wouldn't fade.

When the window was fully lowered, he lifted his gaze at a slow, measured pace.

As soon as he saw who stood outside, his expression hardened again.

It was her?

The second their eyes locked, a cold shiver crept up Corinne's back.

Then, without warning, a much bolder thought took hold of her.

So this was Jonny's uncle.

Everything about him stood out. His face, the way he carried himself, and that quiet pressure he gave off made Jonny seem insignificant.

He looked sharp, his build solid, and he carried himself with a kind of authority that didn't match his age. In that instant, she saw exactly what she needed. This was the man she would use.

She made up her mind right there. She would marry him. Once that happened, she would stand above Jonny as his aunt-in-law, and she wasn't about to let that chance slip through her fingers.

Without another glance, Andrew shifted his attention away and reached for the window control.

Before it could close, Corinne rushed forward and pressed both hands against the frame to hold it in place.

"Hold on... just give me a moment."

Seeing how close the glass was to catching her, Andrew stopped his hand and released the control. His expression tightened as he looked at her. "Say what you need to say."

Nothing she had planned came to mind. Corinne hesitated for a split second, then decided to act on instinct.

Without asking, she reached through the opening, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. In the next instant, she settled right onto his lap.

"Relax," she replied, a soft smile forming as a small dimple showed. "I'm only here to give your tie back."

A brief flash of surprise crossed his face before it disappeared. "This is your idea of returning something? Move."

Ignoring the edge in his voice, Corinne pulled the tie from her bag and leaned closer to him.

"I was the one who took it off earlier. So I should be the one to put it back."

Before she could continue, Andrew grabbed her wrist to stop her. "There's no need for—"

The movement threw her forward, and she ended up pressed against him. Her breath brushed near his ear as she spoke.

"You act so distant," she whispered. "But that's not what I remember."

In the confined space, their breaths overlapped, and the air inside the car grew noticeably warmer.

Corinne's gaze dropped to Andrew's lips. They were close enough to reach without effort, and once she decided, she didn't hesitate. She leaned in and kissed him again.

For a brief moment, Andrew went completely still.

This time, she wasn't hiding behind alcohol. The kiss carried more control, yet the instant their lips touched, a sudden jolt ran through both of them. It threw their breathing and heartbeats into disarray.

A soft breeze slipped in, bringing the faint trace of her floral scent with it.

That alone was enough to set something off in Andrew. The heat he had been holding back surged again, and the tension building in his body became difficult to ignore.

When a few seconds passed and he still hadn't shoved her away or said a word in protest, Corinne took that as her cue.

She pulled away, even though part of her didn't want to stop.

She parted her lips, ready to tease him, but the look in his eyes stopped her cold. Something dark lingered there, unreadable and heavy, and it unsettled her in a way she couldn't explain.

From the front seat, the driver noticed the shift and quietly raised the partition, cutting them off from view.

Left alone with Andrew in that enclosed space, Corinne felt her pulse race out of control, and her palms grew damp with sweat.

Not a single word came from Andrew. He kept his eyes on her, silent, while his throat shifted once. Each breath he took came heavier than before, uneven and controlled with effort.

Trying to steady herself, Corinne forced a smile and pulled her shoulders back, though the motion lacked ease.

"You're seriously too good-looking," she said. "I didn't even think twice before doing."

A small pause slipped in before she spoke again, her tone turning lighter in an attempt to ease the tension. "I didn't get the chance to ask earlier. Are you single? Do you want a wife?"

Seeing no response, she pushed forward anyway, sticking to the words she had already planned. "If you do, then maybe you could consider me," she said, her voice quickening. "I won't claim I'm perfect, but I've got my looks, and I take care of myself. I treat my family well, and I don't play around when I'm with someone. I know how to handle things in public, and I can manage a home without trouble. I can deal with most situations just fine."

After a brief pause, she added with a faint shrug, "If I had to point out anything bad, I guess I'm a bit too driven. I make money well enough, and I tend to put my family first."

Even as the words left her mouth, she knew how they sounded. The whole thing felt awkward, almost laughable, but she refused to back down now.

"Just believe me," she responded, steadying herself as she reached up and adjusted his tie. "You won't regret it if you choose me."

Her fingers grazed the heat along his neck, and as she shifted closer, her body brushed against the part of him he had been trying to ignore.

That small contact set everything off at once.

Whatever control Andrew had been holding onto broke apart in an instant.

Without warning, his hand seized her, and he pulled her in. The kiss that followed came down hard, filled with force and possession, as if he meant to silence her completely.

He didn't hold back. His lips pressed into hers, and the kiss deepened until it left her breathless.

The drug had already stripped away what little restraint he had left. Now that he had found an outlet, he didn't hesitate. He pushed her down against the seat and followed after her.

"I gave you the chance to stop. You chose not to. So whatever happens now, that's on you."

Before she could react, his lips claimed hers again. One of his hands forced both her wrists above her head, holding them in place. The other moved from her waist and slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, his touch slow and deliberate along her thigh.

Corinne's body stiffened at once. She tried to close her legs, but his knee slid between them and held her still without effort.

"Wait... hold on..." she muttered, her voice shaking as unease crept into her eyes. "You still haven't—mm—answered what I asked—"

Andrew paused. Lifting himself slightly, he looked down at her, his gaze dark and unreadable.

"Answer you?" he asked, his tone low and edged. "This is your answer."

Before she could respond, his hand gripped the front of her blouse and pulled.

The sharp sound of fabric tearing cut through the confined space.

A sharp chill grazed Corinne's bare skin, sending a delicate shiver cascading down her spine.

Before she could steady herself, Andrew's hand covered her chest, nothing left to soften the contact. Heat radiated from his palm, startlingly intense, while his touch turned unexpectedly rough—the hardened pads of his fingers dragging firmly across her sensitive skin before closing in a tight, almost punishing grip that jolted straight through her, unfamiliar and overwhelming.

Warm, uneven breaths spilled against the curve of her neck, each exhale heavier than the last.

The moment his other hand slipped beneath the edge of her skirt, her entire body began to tremble, her breath catching so sharply it nearly vanished altogether.

Andrew caught the reaction at once. Just as his fingers were about to brush the thin layer beneath, he went still.

Clenching against the haze threatening to consume him, he leaned close, his lips hovering near her ear as his voice dropped into a hoarse, strained warning. "If you're aware enough to be afraid, then you shouldn't go around provoking men you don't know."

He shifted back slightly, his voice tightening. "If you want to stop, this is your—"

Cutting him off, Corinne seized his tie and dragged him sharply back down.

Guided by instinct, her mouth found his ear, teeth grazing before her lips sealed over the heated lobe, and she sucked once—soft, controlled, and unmistakably intentional, shutting down the last chance he had offered.

Determined to reach her goal, she forced herself to stay in character, her voice dipping into a faint, taunting murmur. "Are you... actually capable of it?"

Pressed into the curve of her neck, he hid his expression from view, yet a low, husky laugh vibrated against her skin.

From that moment on, any hesitation vanished.

With barely anything left to keep them apart, his hand slid between her thighs, fingers locating that hidden place and pressing down with precise, unwavering intent.

Moving with measured patience, he traced slow circles and subtle pressure over her most sensitive spot, each deliberate motion sending sharp tremors through her body until she couldn't stop the shiver that seized her.

Releasing her pinned wrists, he threaded his fingers through hers and drawing her trembling hand into the heat of his palm, enclosing it fully.

Gentle strokes brushed across her knuckles and along her palm, again and again, the contact there maddeningly soft—almost tender in contrast to the relentless precision of his touch below.

Nothing about this matched the expectations she had braced herself for.

Gradually, the tight coil of dread inside her unraveled under that unyielding rhythm, replaced inch by inch with something far more dangerous—an uneasy blend of embarrassment, curiosity, and a quiet, involuntary anticipation she couldn't suppress.

Against her will, her body yielded, softening beneath his hands.

Bit by bit, the clothes already hanging loose were peeled away by his long, graceful fingers until nothing remained between them.

Wave after wave of sensation crashed over her, muddling her thoughts, dragging her deeper into a haze she couldn't quite fight.

At some indistinct moment, the warmth of his touch shifted—replaced by something far more overwhelming. The instant he entered her, the reality struck all at once, sharp and inescapable, followed by a sudden sting that stole her breath.

Countless times, Corinne had pictured how her first time would unfold.

In those quiet fantasies, she had always imagined sharing it with the man she loved most, on a day filled with meaning, leaving behind a memory she could revisit with a soft, wistful smile.

Reality, however, unfolded without mercy.

Never—not once—had she considered that, driven by the need to retaliate against the man who had betrayed her, she would end up here… in the backseat of a car, with someone she had only met hours ago, surrendering herself in such a reckless, tangled way.

A tear slid from the corner of her eye, heavy with emotions she couldn't sort through, slipping silently onto the smooth leather beneath her.

Almost absently, his hand lifted and brushed across her cheek, his fingertips catching that tear and wiping it away.

Without warning, his movements shifted—deeper, harder, each driving push reaching somewhere far beyond the surface, pulling broken sounds and uneven breaths from her lips.

Gradually, the sharp ache ebbed away, replaced by a heady, spiraling sensation that coursed through her limbs and rattled her to the core.

Everything that followed—from the car ride to Andrew's place—dissolved into a hazy blur, slipping through her grasp like fragments of a dream she couldn't quite hold onto. At some point, exhaustion overtook her completely, dragging her under into darkness.

When her eyes finally fluttered open again, pale morning light had already filled the room.

Struggling upright, she winced at the deep soreness lingering in her body, her gaze drifting sluggishly across the unfamiliar bedroom.

Nearly half a minute passed before everything rushed back, each humiliating moment replaying with brutal clarity.

That meant it hadn't been a dream at all.

Reality settled in with crushing weight—she had truly slept with Jonny's uncle.

Pressing her palm to her throbbing forehead, Corinne squeezed her eyes shut, unable to untangle the storm of shame, anger, and disbelief twisting inside her.

"If you're awake, come out and eat," a calm, familiar voice called from the doorway.

Startled, she snapped her gaze upward.

At the sight of Andrew, the impact hit just as hard as before.

Gone was the sharply dressed man from last night—Andrew now stood in relaxed, casual clothes, soft strands of hair falling over his brow.

That effortless look made him seem more approachable, almost deceptively so, yet the cool detachment in his eyes hadn't changed in the slightest.

Nothing about him matched the man she remembered from the night before.

For several long seconds, Corinne could only stare at him, her thoughts frozen. Only when she shifted to sit up did the realization strike—she wasn't wearing anything at all.

"Um… do you have anything I could change into?"

Resting one shoulder against the doorframe, Andrew watched her without speaking.

After a brief pause, he finally said, "I don't keep women's clothes here. If you don't mind, just take something from the closet."

"But I…" Her voice trailed off, the protest dying before it could form. How exactly was she supposed to cross the room like this?

Then again… after everything that had happened the night before, clinging to modesty now felt almost ridiculous.

"Fine. Then I won't bother being shy," she said lightly, a small, deliberate smile tugging at her lips.

With a quick, decisive motion, she tossed the blanket aside. Bare skin exposed, she stepped out of bed and walked past him without slowing.

At her side, Andrew turned his head away, his gaze shifting elsewhere as though none of it concerned him.

Reaching the closet, Corinne snatched a T-shirt at random and pulled it over herself, the loose hem just brushing her thighs.

The place felt like a winding maze in its sheer size, leaving her slightly disoriented as she wandered through it.

After a few wrong turns, she finally reached the dining area, only to find Andrew already seated, idly scrolling through financial headlines on his tablet.

Set out before him, the breakfast looked plain but surprisingly appetizing.

Glancing around, she asked, trying to ease the stiffness in the air, "I didn't see anyone else here… did you make all of this yourself?"

Without lifting his gaze, he answered flatly, "Yeah."

Hungry enough to forget herself, she ate with genuine enthusiasm, then flashed him a small, teasing smile. "That's actually impressive. Men who look like you and can cook too? That's a pretty rare combination."

With a hint of scorn, Andrew let out a low huff.

"Women with zero sense of self-preservation are pretty rare too."

Silence settled over Corinne as she paused mid-bite.

Honestly, it applied to him too. A man willing to sleep with a stranger he'd just met hardly qualified as cautious either.

Irritation flickered through her as she rolled her eyes to herself.

Shifting instantly, she tilted her head and sweetened her voice. "Funny how fast you changed your attitude once it was over. You were a lot gentler when you had your hands all over me last night."

Given her soft, almost angelic features, the shameless ease of her words felt jarringly out of place.

Drawing in a measured breath, Andrew set his tablet down with deliberate calm and rose from his chair.

"Wrap it up in ten minutes," he said evenly. "We're heading to the courthouse at nine."

The statement hit Corinne so abruptly she nearly choked on her milk. Coughing hard, she wiped her lips and stared at him in disbelief.

"Wait—what did you just say?"