Lady Margaret stepped in.

Tall.

Cold.

Intimidating.

Her expression, unreadable.

Her gaze flicked from Vanessa... to Ivanna... then back to Vanessa again.

"Vanessa, you are here."

Lady Margaret's voice cut through the room like a drawn blade, cold, sharp, unwelcoming.

Vanessa stiffened immediately.

Even as a fully grown woman, she felt that familiar instinctive chill crawl up her spine.

Some habits never left; Margaret's presence had always commanded fear... and submission.

"Y-Yes," Vanessa replied with forced calm, straightening her posture.

"Yeah, Madam Margaret... I actually just got here," Vanessa said, forcing a cheerful smile though her voice wavered slightly. "I wanted to come see my brother's wife."

She let out a dry, nervous laugh.

Lady Margaret's cold eyes narrowed.

"Of course. A necessary courtesy. I'm just wondering, does your brother know you're here?"

"I... I wanted to surprise him," Vanessa replied, timid as a child caught stealing biscuits.

"Mm." Margaret's tone sharpened. "Well, surprise over. You've overstayed your welcome. She..." she jerked her chin toward Ivanna "...needs to come prepare lunch."

"Can I just have one more minute with her, you know, to say, hello?" She asked jokingly.

Her tone was clipped. "She has chores to complete. You are distracting her."

"Oh. Chores." Vanessa forced another shaky laugh. "It's... good you're teaching her how to cook."

Then, more sincerely, "Madam Margaret, she's not feeling well today. Couldn't you let her rest, just this once?"

"She looks perfectly fine to me," Margaret said in that cold, clipped tone that could slice flesh.

"And no, she can't pass. You should leave now, and return after getting your brother's consent."

"With all due respect, Lady Margaret, she looks terribly sick. She needs rest, not chores."

Ivanna's heart thudded anxiously.

This was the first time someone had spoken for her since she arrived.

The first time someone stood between her and the iceberg called Margaret.

But Margaret didn't even blink.

"She is recovering," she said coldly. "A little sweat is normal. And her fatigue is a consequence of her indiscipline."

Vanessa's brows shot up. "Indiscipline? She looks like she might collapse!"

"That is because she attempted to escape," Margaret replied calmly, as if discussing the weather.

Ivanna's breath caught in humiliation.

Vanessa whipped toward her, eyes widening in disbelief, but not judgment.

"You tried to escape?" she whispered sympathetically.

Ivanna bowed her head silently, shame washing over her again.

Margaret continued mercilessly, "She received a punishment appropriate for her action. And she survived. Now...she must continue her training."

Vanessa's lips parted in outrage.

"Training? She's my brother's wife, not a soldier!"

"LEAVE!" Lady Margaret barked her command.

Vanessa swallowed.

"O-Okay. I'll come back later then."

She took a step toward the door, visibly intimidated.

But unexpectedly, Ivanna reached out and grabbed her hand tightly, clinging to her like a drowning victim clutching driftwood. Her grip trembled. Her eyes pleaded.

Vanessa froze... then squeezed her hand gently, giving her a soft but reassuring look.

A silent message: I'll try.

Ivanna reluctantly released her, shoulders heavy.

Vanessa had barely taken another step when Margaret's voice cracked through the air:

"Your brother wants you in his office. Immediately."

Vanessa's eyes flew wide open.

"Oh my God...Madam Margaret, why did you tell on me?" she squeaked, horrified.

Margaret simply shrugged, bored.

"This isn't fair!" Vanessa huffed indignantly

..then stomped her foot and rushed out, muttering complaints under her breath.

The moment she was gone, Margaret turned back to Ivanna with a glare sharp enough to stab.

"You think she can save you?" she sneered. "Don't deceive yourself. Get up. Lunch won't cook itself. Move your lazy butt to the kitchen."

"B-but... I don't feel well today... can I not cook...just today?"

"I said no." Her voice thundered like a gavel. "Don't get on my nerves. Get to the kitchen this instant."

Ivanna tried again, "B-but-"

"One more word and I'll double your punishment."

Ivanna stiffened, then released a long, defeated exhale.

She dragged herself up, legs shaky, and slowly trudged toward the kitchen like a prisoner being led back to her cell.

Vanessa sat stiffly in the large office, wringing her hands on her lap.

Her brother stood with his back to her, rigid, tense, his aura cold enough to chill the room.

When he finally spoke, his voice cracked like thunder:

"Did I not tell you not to go to the castle?!"

Vanessa flinched.

"You said it was under reconstruction... I just wanted to see. You didn't tell me you were hiding your wife."

"Shut up!" he snapped, spinning around with eyes blazing. "I warned you, Vanessa! Stay out of my business! If I say no one goes to the house, then NO ONE goes there! Why must you poke your nose into everything?!"

He slammed a hand onto his desk.

"This minute...you're packing your bags and going back to California."

"What?! But I literally just got here!"

"I don't care. I don't give a damn. Get out...and don't ever show up unannounced again. Do you hear me?!"

"But Eugene..."

He froze.

Then inhaled sharply, as if she had stabbed him in the chest.

"What... did you just call me?" he growled.

Vanessa shrank back.

"But that's your name. I don't know why you hate it so much...your wife calls you by that name, so why can't I?"

His jaw tensed.

No, locked.

"Vanessa," he said dangerously low, "you're walking on a very thin line. I am already furious. Do not push me further. Get. Out."

"But big brother..." her voice softened into a pleading whisper. "Can't I stay a little longer? I really like your wife. She's so beautiful and kind. I really, really like her. Can't I stay with her? Please?"

He scoffed.

"Who? Ivanna?"

"Yes! Is that her name? It's beautiful. I didn't even get to ask because Lady Margaret was... terrifying."

Vanessa pouted, then frowned.

"She forced Ivanna to cook even though she's sick. Big brother... are you aware your wife isn't feeling well?"

Eugene's voice cut through the office like ice. "Are you done gossiping? Then leave. You got here five minutes ago and you know nothing about her, so spare me the lectures."

He turned back to the mountain of files on his desk, burying the interruption in paperwork.

"But, big brother-" Vanessa began, clutching at the frayed edge of the moment.

"See yourself to the door," he snapped without looking up. "I am far too busy for this."

Vanessa bristled, but the question she had been chewing on would not die. "Why are you hiding her? Why didn't anyone know you were married?"

Eugene's pen paused mid-ink. "I told you I don't have time for-" He closed his mouth. His tone hardened. "Do not get on my nerves."

Vanessa rolled her eyes, mortified and furious by turns, and moved for the door. Eugene watched her go for a beat, then added, voice low and dangerous, "And Vanessa... if you breathe a word of this to mother or father, you will regret it. This is my business. Stay out of it."

She slammed the door behind her and the sound echoed like an accusation. For a long second Eugene simply sat, the pen slipping from his fingers as thought crowded in like a storm.

Nicolas cleared his throat as he entered, the interruption drawing Eugene's attention away from an ache he hadn't expected.

"Everything all right, sir?" Nicolas asked, eyeing the tightness in his boss's jaw.

Eugene rubbed his temple, then exhaled. "She's sick, supposedly."

"It's possible," Nicolas said evenly. "Given who's overseeing her care, it would be a miracle if she weren't unwell."

A bitter laugh escaped Eugene. "Do you think I should see her? Take her to a hospital?" He paused, tasting the memory of the last time... the slap like a red-flagged wound in his memory. "No. I don't think that's wise. Last time I tried to intervene she slapped me. Imagine that."

Nicolas's eyes flicked, curious.

Eugene looked into the distance, something like wonder and irritation wrestling behind his gaze.

"Vanessa can be childish. And yet-" he cut himself off, an inscrutable half-smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "She called Ivanna 'nice'... and 'beautiful.'"

He spoke the words slowly, testing them aloud. "Beauty alone should have made her marketable. So why did every man refuse? Why do the rumors say no one wanted her? It doesn't add up. Her family has wealth, she's astonishing to look at...there must be more."

Nicolas stepped closer, report folder in hand. "Sir, our background checks show contradictory signals. There are rumors she deliberately disguises herself, turns up on dates unrecognizable. Some sources suggest she pushes men away, others say she's uninterested in marriage. It's inconsistent."

Eugene's expression sharpened, curiosity flaring into strategy. He tapped the pen against the wood, thoughts moving like gears. "Perhaps she's deliberately repellent. Or waiting for someone. Perhaps a lover or something. Or... maybe there's something else we don't know. People hide the strangest truths. You know like lesbianism for instance?"

"Am not so sure of that." Nicolas answered truthfully.

He leaned forward, the decision settling like iron. "Okay then... I want everything on Ivanna.

Her social history. Past acquaintances, lovers, friends, every message, every invitation, every photograph. Check school records, social feeds, travel logs. Find every footstep she's taken for the last five years. Cross-reference everything. If she's hiding anything, I want it uncovered."

Nicolas inclined his head. "Right away, sir."

"And run it quietly," Eugene added, voice low and final. "No leaks. If this marriage is a problem, I will handle the consequences. If it's a puzzle... solve it."

Nicolas had barely reached the door when Eugene's voice stopped him again, low, uncertain, and unlike anything he'd heard from the prince.

"Nicolas... come here a moment."

Nicolas turned, wary. Eugene wasn't looking at him; he was staring at the floor, fingers clenched on the edge of the desk as though steadying something inside himself.

"Is it possible," Eugene began slowly, "that Lady Margaret might actually kill her? For real. Did I go too far involving... extreme methods? Because this entire conflict is between me and her parents. Maybe...maybe I shouldn't have dragged her into it. Should I just let her go?"

The question hung in the air, fragile and foreign coming from him.

Nicolas folded his hands behind his back. "Sir... according to the strategy drafted to handle the Sean family, Ivanna is our leverage. If Plan A fails, she becomes Plan B. The Sean family is not a group we can topple easily. We need something that forces their hand."

Eugene didn't move, so Nicolas pressed on.

"And besides... you said yourself you'd use her as a..." he cleared his throat, choosing the word carefully, "...distraction... you know, like a plaything, while we execute our main objectives."

"I said that?" Eugene's head snapped up, confusion...then disbelief...then discomfort flashing across his face.

"That doesn't sound like me." He rubbed his palm over his chest as though something there unnerved him.

"And besides... that girl doesn't look to me like someone anyone can toy with just like that. She is as stubborn as a goat. Even Lady Margaret hasn't broken her spirit, and Margaret breaks grown men."

He hesitated, expression tightening.

"She's just a girl, and yet... I can't figure it out."

Another pause. "I don't like how this feels. Putting her through pain..." He stopped, jaw tense. "It's making me restless. As if something in me is... revolting against it."

Nicolas blinked, this was new.

Eugene dragged a hand through his hair, restless. "You know I'm not a monster, Nicolas. What her parents did... what they cost me...it was unforgivable. I want them to experience the same helplessness. That is justice."

His voice softened, unexpectedly raw.

"But Ivanna... she's innocent. And she's also their softest spot. Hurting her hurts them. So my path should be clear... but..." He broke off and stood abruptly. "I don't know. I just don't know."

He took two steps forward but stopped again, conflicted.

"I think... I need to see her. Vanessa said she wasn't doing well. Maybe I should check."

Nicolas froze. Something clicked in his mind like falling dominoes.

"Sir..." he said cautiously, "forgive my boldness but... are you, by any chance... falling for Miss Ivanna?"

Eugene spun around so fast it startled even himself.

"Falling? Hell. No." His denial was loud, too loud. "How could you even say that? She is the daughter of the people who cost me the most PAIN! She is not my type. Not at all."

He flailed for logic, then added, almost angrily..."Yes, she is beautiful, obviously, but life is more than a pretty face and..." he swallowed, voice cracking for a fraction of a second, "...and maybe a nice body."

Nicolas's brow lifted. "It's only that you speak... differently when the topic concerns her."

"I DO NOT like her," Eugene snapped, color rising in his neck as he walked back to his seat and grabbed a document. "Daughter of my enemy? That's ridiculous. Leave."

Nicolas bowed slightly and exited, the door shutting softly behind him.

For a moment, the office was silent, heavy.

Then Eugene dropped the folder he'd been pretending to read. His posture crumpled ever so slightly, his expression twisting into a grimace, equal parts frustration, fear, and something dangerously close to... yearning.

He whispered to the empty room.

"What the hell was that?"

After Nicolas exit... Eugene sat a moment longer, alone with an unfamiliar thought: he was unexpectedly, uncomfortably invested. He pushed it away and rose, straightening his jacket, the mask of command sliding back into place.

Outside, the world went on, but in the castle, new investigations had already been set in motion.

Unexpected Turn of Events

The sun was merciless that afternoon, beating down on the estate courtyard with a heat that made the air shimmer. Yet Lady Margaret, broad-shouldered, stoic, and impossibly rigid, had chosen today to teach flower trimming.

Ivanna could barely see straight.

Her head felt heavy, her body weak, her vision dim around the edges.

But she forced herself to stand there, pretending to pay attention while Lady Margaret droned on.

"You had better focus," Lady Margaret snapped without looking up. "You'll be trimming the next hedge."

Ivanna's eye twitched. Of all days...

Just then, a low, sleek engine hummed across the compound.

An impossibly rare black sports car glided up to the fountain, one of the three limited edition models launched that year. Even Ivanna, who didn't care about cars, knew how unattainable that machine was.

She tried to ignore it.

Really, she did.

But when the driver's silhouette emerged, tall, composed, elegant.

Her heart stalled.

Eugene.

Her SUPPOSED husband.

The man she hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime.

He stepped out of the car with the kind of presence books struggled to describe.

His fitted charcoal trousers elongated his long legs.

His overcoat framed his tall, straight figure as if it were tailored by the gods themselves.

A scarf draped loosely around his neck, giving him a quiet nobility.

His dark hair caught the sunlight, and his sunglasses concealed half a face too handsome for her peace of mind.

Ivanna stared.

Completely, hopelessly stared.

He didn't smile.

He didn't rush.

He simply stood beside the car, looking every inch the unreachable prince.

When his gaze flicked in her direction, he paused...

...but only for a second.

Then he started walking toward them with slow, effortless grace.

Lady Margaret immediately straightened, dropping the trimming scissors.

"You are welcome, my prince," she said, almost bowing.

"Mm." His tone was faint, polite but distant. "I hope you've been well, Lady Margaret?"

"Very well, my prince."

"Good. And... thank you for your hard work. I know I've troubled you."

"No trouble at all, my prince."

"If you say so."

He spoke to her gently. Respectfully.

Something Ivanna had never been given.

Then, with not even a flicker of acknowledgement in Ivanna's direction,

he walked right past her, heading toward the main building.

Ivanna blinked.

Didn't pause.

Didn't look at her.

Didn't even breathe in her direction.

Just brushed by her as if she were the wind.

Ivanna stood frozen, unsure how to feel.

This woman, this frightening, muscular dragon, bowed to him with absolute respect.

And he... had ignored her completely.

Normally, she would've exploded, screamed, cursed the heavens and everyone under it.

She should be angry, furious even.

But instead...

Why am I... happy to see him?

The thought was ridiculous, yet there it was.

She wanted to be angry.

She wanted her freedom.

She had every reason to hate this marriage.

But seeing him today, so calm, so breathtaking.

she suddenly wished none of the chaos between them had happened.

Perhaps, in another life...

she might have fallen for someone like him.

Still dazed, she nearly jumped when Margaret barked again.

"I said pay attention!"

Ivanna rolled her eyes boldly and walked off.

"Ah! Acting rude because the prince is around?" Margaret scoffed. "Do you think he'll save you? You'll be back, girl! And I'll double your workload, insolent child!"

Margaret's voice thundered behind her.

Ivanna didn't even spare her a glance and headed inside..

She had one mission:

Get rid of that woman, one way or another.

But as soon as she reached her room, her strength drained. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. Her forehead throbbed, her body felt heavy, and before she could form a coherent plan...

She collapsed onto her bed.

Sleep claimed her quicker than she realized, feverish, uneasy.

When Ivanna finally opened her eyes, the sky outside had dimmed. Evening.

Panic jolted through her.

She shot up, still dizzy, and hurried out the door.

She needed to see him.

She prayed he was still around.

She needed to know if he was still here, or if he had already left her behind without a second thought.

She didn't bother knocking when she reached his room.

She entered and shut the door behind her with a soft, determined thud.

She inhaled deeply, gathering courage.

The room was empty.

But it was... stunning.

Like a private gallery, elegant, spacious, masculine, refined.

She had been here once before, but then she was too angry to notice anything.

Now she took in every detail, her eyes widening in awe.

Then...

A soft click.

A door within the room opened.

Ivanna turned, breath catching in her throat.

Eugene stepped into view.

He froze.

So did she.

He was bare from the waist up, only a towel wrapped around his hips.

Water still clung to his skin, glistening over defined muscles.

His dark hair was damp, pieces sticking to his forehead.

A drop rolled down his jawline and disappeared beneath the towel.

He looked like a sculpture brought to life.

But his eyes, sharp, shocked, cold, locked onto hers.

Ivanna felt her entire body tighten.

She clenched her fists behind her back to steady herself, refusing to break eye contact no matter how her heart pounded.

Eugene's lips parted slightly.

His brows drew together.

There was something like confusion, or disbelief, flickering there.

And yet... neither of them moved.

The air between them grew heavy.

Quiet.

Electrified.

Eugene's brow lowered, expression tightening.

He was surprised.

And not pleased.

But Ivanna...

couldn't look away.

She had stepped into the lion's den.

And the lion had just walked out of the shower.

Eugene noticed the way Ivanna's almond-shaped eyes wandered, hesitant at first, then lingering.

He walked past her slowly, as though giving her enough time to look away if she truly wanted to. She didn't.

He reached the bed, took a fresh towel, and dragged it through his damp hair, each motion unhurried.

"Finished ogling?" he said without looking at her, his voice smooth and cool as silk.

He picked up his robe, letting it fall loosely over his shoulders before sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg bent casually, completely unbothered.

"You plan on standing there all night?" He tilted his head at her. "Or did you come here to hit me again?"

Ivanna rolled her eyes, swallowing the sharp retort that burned on her tongue.

Not today. She needed her wits.

Eugene studied her openly. The stubborn set of her chin, the exhaustion darkening her eyes, the slight weight she'd lost. She looked stressed... but still ethereal. Irresistibly so.

Finally, she spoke, soft, unsure, unlike her usual fiery self.

"Are you staying for the night?"

He raised a brow. "Why? Planning to keep me company?"

"Can you stop being annoying?"

"Oh, now I'm the annoying one? Who walked in without knocking, invading my privacy, and staring like it's a hobby?"

Ivanna scoffed. "You have no right to talk about privacy."

Then she added in a small voice.

"Eugene or whatever your name is called, I am not in the mood to argue," she added in a calm voice.

Eugene gave a low, amused hum. "Interesting. Looks like Lady Margaret's training worked."

"You call that training?" she hissed.

He shrugged. "You're calmer today. That's... progress. Credit goes to her."

Ivanna snapped but fought so hard to contain it, then decided to leave before escalating things. "You know what? I'm leaving."

She spun toward the door, but the moment her fingers touched the handle, a metallic click echoed through the room.

She froze.

Eugene, still lounging on the bed, had pressed a button beside him.

The door was locked.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

He stretched lazily. "What does it look like?"

Ivanna pressed her palm flat against the locked door.

"Eugene," she snapped, "open this door."

From behind her, his voice floated lazily through the room.

"Why should I? You walked into my room on your own, didn't you?"

She clenched her teeth. "Don't get on my nerves."

He laughed softly, dangerously, then rose from the bed with slow, deliberate steps.

"And what exactly," he murmured, eyes glinting,

"would my little wife do if I did get on her nerves?"

He was provoking her, enjoying every second of her frustration.

Ivanna felt the heat rise in her chest, but instead of exploding, something inside her shifted.

Fine.

Two could play this game.

She turned around slowly, meeting his gaze head-on.

Then, before Eugene could predict her move, she stepped toward him,

closer...

closer,

until she was right beside him, then rising on her toes.

What she did next shocked him.

She KISSED him.

Bold.

Sudden.

Completely unanticipated.

Eugene froze for the briefest second.

A sharp shock ran through him...

a pulse of heat that spread from his lips to his entire body.

His hazel eyes darkened, narrowing at the audacity of her move.

He should push her away.

He should say something cutting, something cruel.

Except...

he didn't.

For some strange reasons...

He couldn't.

He noticed something immediately about her kiss.

It was clumsy, hesitant, inexperienced...

and that amused him more than it should have.

So that's your play, little wife?

His lips curved faintly.

If she wanted to provoke him, he would show her just how dangerous that game was.

His hand slid to her waist, pulling her in with a deliberate slowness that made her breath catch.

Then he tilted his head and captured her mouth with a kiss that erased every thought in her head.

Eugene pinned Ivanna's wrists above her head with one strong hand, rendering her helpless and at his mercy. Before she could even catch her breath, he claimed her mouth in another searing kiss that set her entire body aflame. His lips moved over hers with skillful precision, alternating between deep, dominating thrusts of his tongue and teasing nibbles that left her lips tingling.

It was deep...

sure...

commanding.

Absolutely...

Ivanna's knees nearly gave way.

The scorching heat of his mouth consumed her, melting away any semblance of coherent thought. Ivanna felt like she was drowning in sensation, her limbs growing weak and pliant as a tidal wave of desire crashed over her.

She suddenly finds herself arching into him, desperate for more contact, more of his intoxicating touch.

Eugene's other hand explored her body with brazen confidence, sliding under her shirt to map the contours of her waist and ribs.

Before she could catch her own breath, Eugene lifted her effortlessly and laid her on the bed. His grip on her wrists was firm but gentle, pinning them above her head, not to restrain her, but to keep her from running from what she had started.

"Still provoking me?" he murmured against her lips, his breath warm.

Ivanna's heart thudded violently.

She had meant to annoy him,

not ignite him.

His mouth met hers again, slower this time, more purposeful...

and all the fight inside her melted into something warm, dizzy, overwhelming.

Her body softened beneath him.

Her breath stuttered.

Heat pooled low in her stomach, unfamiliar and frightening.

Eugene felt it all.

And the look in his eyes changed,

from amusement

to something darker, deeper, devastatingly intense.

His fingers brushed her cheek, her jawline,

gentle, almost reverent.

The air between them thickened.

Her pulse hammered.

His lips trailed a whisper of a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

Then suddenly, Eugene's hands were everywhere, stripping away the barriers between them with single-minded focus. He peeled off her shirt, tossing it aside carelessly, before deftly unhooking her bra. Cool air hit her heated skin, puckering her nipples into tight peaks.

All the while, he devoured her mouth, swallowing her gasps and whimpers. His tongue plundered her depths, staking his claim, marking her as his. Ivanna writhed beneath him, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensation.

Her struggles only seemed to inflame his passion.

As the initial fog of lust began to lift, Ivanna found herself suddenly lucid, realizing the dangerous position she was in. Panic surged through her veins and she started to struggle in earnest, twisting and bucking beneath Eugene's larger frame.

But at this point, it was too late, and Eugene, he was relentless, easily overpowering her weaker attempts at resistance. His mouth claimed hers again, kissing her with such skill and intensity that coherent thought scattered like leaves in the wind.

Ivanna felt herself growing dizzy, lightheaded, as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

Before she could process what was happening, before she could scream or fight or flee, Eugene was already inside her. The sudden intrusion stole her breath, pain and pleasure intertwining in a dizzying spiral.

Ivanna cried out, the sound muffled against Eugene's mouth as he swallowed her protests.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, both from the sting of penetration and the overwhelming emotions swirling inside her. She felt violated, used, utterly powerless against his strength.

Yet even as revulsion churned in her gut, her treacherous body responded to his touch. Sparks of unwanted pleasure radiated from where they were joined, her inner muscles fluttering around his invading length.

Shame burned hot on her cheeks as she realized how wet she'd become, how easily her body accepted him despite her mind's rebellion.

Eugene's thrusts remained deep but gentler now, hitting that secret spot inside her with maddening accuracy.

Pleasure built steadily, coiling tighter and tighter in her core with each drag of his cock against her sensitive walls.

Ivanna bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, torn between the urge to push him away and the traitorous need to pull him closer.

Her hips twitched, caught between fighting and meeting his thrusts.

Eugene felt the change in her, the subtle shift from resistance to reluctant acceptance. Encouraged, he increased the pace of his thrusts, each snap of his hips driving him deeper, harder.

The new angle allowed him to grind against her clit with every movement, sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting through her body.

"F#ck, you are damn tight," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. Sweat beaded on his brow as he focused intently on her reactions, tweaking and adjusting until he found the rhythm that made her toes curl.

Ivanna's breath came in short, sharp gasps, her chest heaving with each thrust. Despite herself, she could feel the coil of tension in her belly winding tighter and tighter, pushing her inexorably towards the edge.

And then...

the night closed around them, soft and consuming, as their world pulled together and disappeared behind a gentle, intimate darkness.

-Fade to black as they continued to make love-

Ivanna Is A Was Virgin

Ivanna's eyelashes trembled softly as the first ray of morning light pierced through the curtains, warm and blinding.

The moment she stirred, a sharp ache rippled through her body, heavy, throbbing, and raw, like she had been rolled beneath the wheels of a relentless truck.

Every muscle protested.

Every breath reminded her of last night.

Grinding her teeth, she forced herself to sit up. Only then did her gaze fall on the sleeping figure beside her.

EUGENE.

His face... maddeningly exquisite even in slumber ... rested calmly on the pillow. Soft shadows shaped his jawline, and lashes too long for a man fanned against his cheeks.

And just like that, anger flared inside her.

She wanted to smack him.

Hard.

This is all your fault!

She still couldn't process how everything had spiraled from a tantrum to... last night.

He had taken her first kiss.

Her first time.

Her whole sanity, apparently.

And worse ... she'd let him.

Heat bloomed across her face as memories flooded back.

How could he sleep so peacefully after the chaos he caused?

She still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that a simple tantrum had spiraled into... that.

She only meant to provoke him. Push his buttons.

But she clearly underestimated the devil she married.

Her cheeks warmed as memories flashed, vivid, consuming.

His mouth claiming hers.

His hands wandering over her sensitized skin.

His voice, those deep, unrestrained moans, echoing in her ears.

She swallowed hard.

He had taken her first kiss... and everything else.

He had looked nothing like the cold tyrant she always thought him to be.

Nothing like the merciless prince she despised.

Last night... he was someone entirely different.

A man capable of tenderness that made her toes curl.

A man whose touch felt like fire trailing across her nerves.

A man who handled her like something precious even as he overwhelmed her.

At first it was painful, sharp enough to make her gasp.

But then...

His pace softened.

His voice lowered.

His eyes... those deep, intoxicated eyes... held hers like she was the only thing he could see.

Her face burned as she remembered how she clung to him, how her voice betrayed her again and again as she moaned loudly in his ears.

She slapped both hands over her face.

I can't believe I sounded like that!

What happened to her dignity?

To her neat-freak standards? To her boundaries? To her brain?

Somewhere between his kisses and the way he whispered her name against her throat, she had forgotten everything, pride, anger, rational thought.

And she let him.

Because last night...

She wanted him.

The realization sent a fresh wave of embarrassment crashing through her, her heart pounding uncontrollably.

"What kind of a person is this...?" she muttered quietly, peeking through her fingers at his sleeping form.

Handsomer than ever.

Peaceful.

As though he hadn't absolutely ruined her the night before.

Ivanna dragged both hands down her burning face.

She had never...ever...let anyone into her personal space before.

No hugs.

No kisses.

No touching.

She used to recoil if someone even breathed too close to her.

So how in the world did she go from being a neat-freak who flinched at casual contact...

...to letting Eugene kiss her until she forgot her own name?

Just remembering the way he pulled her closer, his palm firm at her waist, his breath warm against her skin, made her throat tighten.

She had expected disgust. Repulsion.

But instead?

Pleasure.

Intense, mind-melting pleasure that left her dizzy.

Everything about last night replayed in her head like a forbidden movie, his heat, his voice, his hands, the sensation of being wanted.

She curled her toes in embarrassment.

And yes... he had practically tortured her with how relentless he was.

But the shameless truth?

She wanted every minute of it again.

Her thoughts were spiraling when her stomach suddenly growled, loud, desperate, and humiliating.

Her eyes widened.

Right.

Dinner.

She hadn't eaten.

Because of him.

The shameless maniac beside her who turned her into a human pretzel all night.

She tried to sit up, but a strong arm wrapped instantly around her waist and dragged her back down.

"Ah-!"

She landed on Eugene's bare chest with a soft thud, and his arm automatically tightened around her as if his body did it without thinking.

Ivanna blinked up at him.

He looked... devastatingly handsome like this, half-asleep, hair tousled, his breathing slow and deep.

Then his lashes fluttered, and he cracked one eye open.

A lazy smirk curved his lips.

"So," he murmured, voice low and thick with sleep, "someone finally realized how handsome her husband is. You've been staring at me for quite a while."

Ivanna's cheeks burned instantly.

"I-I wasn't staring!" she snapped, pushing lightly at his chest.

He didn't budge.

Not even a millimeter.

"Can you let go?" she demanded.

"No." His voice was firm, commanding. "It's early. Sleep."

"I'm hungry!" she protested. "I didn't have dinner because of you! I need to go make food."

"No." He didn't even open his eyes this time. "Let the maids cook."

She snorted. "You mean the maids you dismissed? The ones you forced me to replace?"

"I didn't force you," he muttered, half-asleep, "I just wanted you to learn basic discipline."

"By torturing me?!"

"...More or less." He shrugged lightly.

She glared, ready to burst.

He exhaled in annoyance, finally opening his eyes fully.

"Fine. I'll bring the maids back. Happy?"

Ivanna paused, momentarily shocked by his sudden willingness.

So she pushed her luck.

"Not happy."

He stared at her. "What is it now?"

"I want that Margaret witch gone."

"No."

His answer was immediate.

She scoffed. "Of course. Of course."

He sighed. "She stays. But I'll talk to her. She'll go easy on you."

"Go easy?" Ivanna let out a humorless laugh.

"What was I even expecting... I should've known."

Eugene raised a brow, amused. "Should have known what?"

"That you're a beast disguised as a human," she snapped. "A good-for-nothing sleaze bag!"

Instead of getting angry, Eugene's grin widened, slow and wicked.

He folded his arms behind his head, watching her with an expression far too satisfied.

Her puffed cheeks, her fire, her anger, he looked like a man being entertained by the cutest show in the world.

"A sleaze bag, hmm?" His voice dipped playfully.

"That's not what you said last night." he sneezed. "Last night you called me a lot of sweet names. I keep hearing words like, oh...

Ah... That feels so good. Don't stop Eugene. Don't ever stop... Eugene this, Eugene that.

Everything you said about Eugene last night just didn't sound like a sleaze bag."

"Shut up!" she yelped, face flaming. "I didn't say anything like that!"

"Really?" Eugene tilted his head, teasing. "Because I clearly remember someone calling my name. Loudly. Very lovingly, too."

She grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it.

"And you!" she shot back. "You were moaning like-like-"

"Yes?" he drawled. "Like what?"

"Like someone who completely lost control!"

He chuckled, low and sinful.

"It's normal to moan when a sex is good. It's no big deal."

Eugene said this so casually, so maddeningly nonchalant, that Ivanna felt something inside her snap.

Just good?

That's what he called what happened?

He referred to her precious first time as a good sex that isn't actually no big deal?

Her expression darkened instantly.

"Good?" she repeated, her pride flaring like wildfire. "You call t-that poor sex good?"

Eugene smirked, slow, arrogant, provoking.

"That?" she drawled, "isn't even close to my definition of good."  Ivanna  lifted her chin proudly, refusing to back down.

"Not good? Coming from someone with poor kissing skills?" Eugene said teasingly as he seemed to love the way she looked when she's angry.

But this time, she scoffed loudly.

"I bet. Last night was obviously your first time kissing. You were so... sloppy." he added.

"What? That's total bullshit!" She said almost in a screech.

His brow arched, amused.

"Really? Because your kissing was way too clumsy I couldn't help but to teach you in self-defense. If anything, last night was your first kiss."

"I said no! You wish!" She denied instantly, loudly, too loudly.

"I've had my first kiss years ago. And I bet-" she added, voice dripping with false confidence,

"-you hadn't even had your first sex when I had mine!"

She puffed out her chest with bravado.

"And of all the men I've had," she pressed on, even though her lips trembled slightly,

"your sex skills are the poorest."

Eugene paused.

Then smiled.

A slow... devastating... knowing smile.

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh!" Ivanna stuttered. "Haven't you heard about me? I-I club, and have... men. I live recklessly. So sex? It's not a big deal."

"Mm." He hummed lazily. "Yes. I'm sure you do. I can totally believe it."

Except the sarcasm in his tone was so thick she could choke on it.

Then his gaze dropped, slowly, dragging down her flushed face, her trembling lips, the marks he left on her collarbone, and finally to the way she clutched the blanket like a frightened rabbit.

Ivanna felt naked under that look.

And she panicked.

"Yes, of course!" she blurted. "I-I have sex for fun!"

"I'm sure you do," he murmured with a sinful grin, "since you look like such a very... experienced woman."

Her heart dropped.

His tone was teasingly mocking, mercilessly even.

He was enjoying watching her crumble, enjoying every stutter and lie.

Ivanna's ears burned.

That was it.

She had to escape before he stripped her dignity completely.

She wrapped the blanket around herself and jumped up...

Or rather, she tried to.

The moment her feet touched the floor, her legs gave way.

A sharp pain shot through her body and she collapsed back onto her butt with a soft thud.

Eugene's low chuckle filled the room, warm and wicked.

He gave her that infuriating smug look, the one that said I told you so without saying a word.

Ivanna's face flamed.

"I-I must have stepped on the fabric," she said quickly, forcing a brittle laugh.

"Of course you did."

He smirked, eyes glinting.

Blood rushed to her cheeks.

Oh how she hated him.

Hated him for being smug.

Hated him for being calm.

Hated him for being ridiculously handsome.

But most importantly...

She hated him for the way her body ached because of him.

Ivanna gritted her teeth, pushed through the pain, and forced herself to stand.

Every step hurt.

But she held her head high like a queen refusing to bow to an emperor.

She didn't even look back as she stormed out of his room.

The door slammed shut behind her.

Eugene stared for a moment, then chuckled softly.

Her walk, adorably stiff, painfully slow, and full of attitude, made the smirk on his face deepen.

Because he remembered exactly why she was walking like that.

He hadn't planned it.

Not at all.

He had only intended to punish her for kissing him so recklessly, for provoking him with those clumsy lips.

But the moment he kissed her...

She melted.

Completely.

The feel of her, soft, warm, breathless, made something inside him snap.

He lost every ounce of restraint.

And when she moaned, trembling beneath him...

He knew he wasn't letting her go.

He remembered the way she looked at him with those dazed, watery eyes.

The way she gasped his name, even while trying to pretend she hated him.

The memory alone made his pulse quicken again.

"Poor sex skills, huh?"

He whispered to himself, lips curving in a dark smile.

He leaned back against the headboard, the sheets still messy with traces of last night.

Everything felt strange to Eugene.

Very strange.

He wasn't the type of man who lost control easily.

He wasn't driven by impulse.

He wasn't a slave to his own desire.

He liked sex, yes, but on his own terms.

Calculated. Controlled.

He usually needed long foreplay and a slow burn before he even considered intimacy.

But with her?

With Ivanna...

just one touch from her had shattered every line of discipline he'd built for years.

He remembered the way she whimpered beneath him, soft, breathless sounds that shot straight to his core.

The way she trembled so intensely when he tried to enter her, her fingers clawing at his arms, nails sinking deep enough to sting.

At first, he'd thought she was just nervous.

But then he realized he couldn't find his way into her, no matter how gently, no matter the angle.

So when he finally forced himself deeper, her sharp yelp had stunned him.

Her whole body shook, fingers clutching him with desperation and pain, and for a moment he froze.

That wasn't the reaction of a woman who'd "had many men."

That was...

Something else.

He remembered how her tightness nearly drove him mad, how her body wrapped around him like it had never known anyone before him.

She clung to him.

Held him like she was terrified.

Like every movement hurt and thrilled her at once.

And that was when he changed.

He, who preferred roughness, who prided himself on dominance,

found himself slowing down, gentle, careful, protective.

He didn't even recognize himself.

But he loved every second.

Her hissing breaths,

her trembling thighs,

the way she buried her face into his shoulder,

the way her nails dug crescents into his back...

Everything about her was raw.

Real.

Different.

He had slept with countless women, beautiful, experienced, seductive women.

He had never touched a virgin.

He never wanted to.

But last night...

It was unlike anything he'd ever felt.

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, exhaling sharply.

His body was already reacting just from the memory, hard, eager, needy.

And that alone annoyed him.

Why her?

Why was she the exception?

Why did he lose control with her and no one else?

He tried to shove the thoughts away.

"She said she has sex for fun," he muttered. "She goes to clubs. Drinks. Dances. Probably sleeps around."

He clung to those words.

Wanted to believe them.

Because if she was experienced...

then the way she reacted made sense.

Right?

But her behavior yesterday...

her fear of being touched...

the way she ran away this morning...

It all felt wrong.

Everything clashed.

He leaned back and shut his eyes, trying to settle the storm in his head,

but then a sudden thought flashed through his mind, sharp as lightning.

He sat up instantly.

Pulled the duvet aside.

His breath stilled.

On the bedsheet, faint but undeniable,

was a smear of deep red, definitely blood stains.

He stared at it for a long moment.

Then a slow smirk tugged at his lips.

A dark, amused, irresistible smirk.

"So much talk..." he murmured, voice low and triumphant,

"for a virgin."