Chapter 7

Giselle was pinned face-down on the couch, Donovan pressing into her from behind, leaving her struggling to breathe. Her body fought back on instinct, but the difference in their strength made it pointless. Even though she worked out regularly, she was no match for him. It felt like he was venting and taking revenge, maybe even punishing her. His ragged breath consumed her whole. Apparently, there was something truly twisted in him. Giselle closed her eyes, feeling all reason and willpower slip away. At first, she let him take the lead, but then she couldn't help herself. The heat took over, pulling her under until she was lost in its wild, reckless rush. She had no idea how much time had passed by the time it was over. Slumped on the couch, her clothes rumpled and out of place, her body ached as if it might come undone. She didn't want to speak or think. She just drifted in a dull, heavy haze. Meanwhile, Donovan had already pulled up his pants and stood there with quiet satisfaction, calmly buttoning his shirt at a leisurely pace. His well-tailored gray shirt—now slightly wrinkled where she had gripped it—still fit him perfectly, hugging his lean waist, muscular back, and broad chest. For a moment, Giselle forgot the tension between them. Her gaze lingered on his tall, imposing frame with a tenderness that almost looked like infatuation. Donovan smoothed his clothes and turned, only to find Giselle gazing at him, her eyes slightly dazed. But almost instantly, his expression turned icy once more. "I've said everything that needed to be said tonight. I don't want to see you at the Holt residence again." He grabbed his phone and car keys and headed for the door without another word. Giselle was used to his coldness. It hardly affected her anymore. But just as he reached for the doorknob, something made her call out, "Mr. Kane, you forgot to pay, didn't you?" He stopped in his tracks. Giselle stared at him with a half-smile, her voice cool and businesslike. "We settled everything last month. Tonight? That's a separate deal." Donovan closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of disdain crossing his face. After barely ten seconds of thought, he took out his phone and opened WhatsApp, ready to pull up her bank details. "Send me your bank account number again," he muttered. Only then did Giselle remember that after they had gone their separate ways, they'd blocked each other on WhatsApp. She took out her phone, unblocked him, and sent the details. Almost instantly, a bank transfer notification appeared. But when she saw the amount, her face fell. "500 dollars," Donovan said flatly, his voice thick with disdain. "That's all you're worth now." Giselle stiffened for a moment. "Fine," she shot back through clenched teeth, her smirk defiant as she held her ground. "Then I'll just call the cops right now and tell them we're running an illegal prostitution ring here. "How about we all enjoy a nice two-week stay in jail? I've got all the time in the world, but you? I bet that fancy wedding of yours would have to wait." With that, she pulled up the dial pad and punched in 911 like she meant it. Donovan glared at her for a long moment, his expression making it clear he thought she'd lost her mind. He was utterly speechless. "You're that desperate for money, huh?" he asked. "What? Should I be desperate for you instead?" she shot back. His expression darkened, that same infuriating, inexplicable rage flaring up inside him again. Donovan had had enough of her nonsense. He pulled out his phone, opened his banking app, and transferred another ten million dollars into her account without hesitation. "Here's ten million dollars. Now, bury whatever was between us and stay the hell out of my life!" With that, he turned and left, his demeanor cold and cutting. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the rest behind.