Vengeance in His Bed

The dining hall was drowning in a brilliant, suffocating morning light that poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass arches.

Jannah sat at her usual place near the edge of the perimeter on the dining table, her slender fingers wrapped around the delicate porcelain of her morning tea. Her body was still throbbing with a deep, systemic soreness, the acute fever from the previous morning having receded into a lingering, heavy warmth that made every movement a conscious effort.

But the real disruption in the room’s atmosphere was the physical positioning of the Alpha himself.

Dorrent didn’t sit three sectors away today. He had taken his place at the head of the table, mere inches from her left flank, his massive, towering physique clad in a flawless, dark charcoal three-piece suit that screamed corporate absolute authority. His eyes were fixed on the daily financial telemetry tablets, but his heavy, dominant S-tier pheromones were deliberately expanding across the distance, brushing against Jannah’s senses like an invisible, possessive leash.

The doors of the foyer swung open with a sudden, dramatic click.

The sharp, rhythmic clack-clack-clack of premium stilettos echoed off the marble floorboards, signaling an arrival that had not been scheduled. Joanne, strode into the dining hall.

She was dressed to kill today, deliberately styled to dominate Dorrent’s visual field and remind the world of her untouchable social status. Her tall, statuesque frame was poured into an asymmetric, emerald-silk designer dress that exposed the long, flawless line of her collarbone and a scandalous glimpse of her smooth thigh through a calculated slit. Her hair was swept back into a sleek, high ponytail.

"Dorrent, darling," Joanne purred, her voice a smooth, highly practiced melody that filled the acoustic space of the hall.

She didn’t hesitate. She glided past the perimeter, stepping straight into his personal space, and slung her slender, manicured arms around his broad, unyielding shoulders. She leaned down, her expensive, synthetic orchid scent clashing violently with the raw Alpha musk in the room, and pressed her lips firmly against Dorrent’s mouth in a long, lingering, and possessive kiss.

Jannah watched the display silently, her eyes remaining completely flat, cool, and detached as she lifted her porcelain cup to her lips. There was no jealousy in her chest—only a cold, calculating analysis. She knew the secret. She knew that beneath that tailored charcoal suit, the man being kissed by the city’s most beautiful model was a biological fortress whose keys were uniquely held by a nineteen-year-old peasant from the slums.

Dorrent didn’t lean into the kiss; his body remained a rigid, polite statue of compliance, his hands resting flat against the edge of the table. When Joanne finally pulled back, her eyes flicked downward, settling onto the small, quiet figure sitting far too close to the head of the table.

Joanne’s perfect brows subtly puckered. She looked at Jannah.

Today, Jannah looked profoundly different. Her flesh was completely full of lovebites, the deep purple fingerprints and vibrant pink marks of an absolute, savage coupling standing out in terrifyingly vivid detail against her pale skin. Her entire aura looked physically undone, soft, and thoroughly occupied.

Joanne sat down on the chair immediately besides Dorrent, her silk dress rustling as she crossed her legs, her eyes never leaving the marks on Jannah’s neck.

"Well," Joanne murmured, a sharp, patronizing amusement touching the corners of her painted lips as she leaned forward, gesturing vaguely toward Jannah’s collar. "It seems the house staff has been rather busy. Tell me, Jannah... who on earth did that to you? Your neck is completely painted."

Jannah set her porcelain cup back down onto the saucer with a soft, perfectly controlled clink. She raised her chin, her dark eyes locking onto Joanne’s perfect face with an unblinking, defiant calm.

"I have a very aggressive boyfriend, Lady Joanne," Jannah replied, her voice a smooth, level murmur that dripped with a hidden, lethal irony. She didn’t look at Dorrent, but she could feel the immediate, violent tensing of the Alpha’s massive shoulder muscles beside her. "He is an incredibly possessive man... and he simply couldn’t spare me last night."

Joanne let out a low, aristocratic chuckle, turning to Dorrent to share the amusement, though the CEO’s face remained an unreadable mask of cold stone. "Goodness. An aggressive boyfriend? The man must be an absolute beast, or perhaps he has been starving for a very, very long time to leave you in such a state." Joanne tilted her head, her analytical eyes scanning the sheer density of the bruises. "Tell me, when was the last time this boyfriend of yours actually had sex with you?"

"Probably five years or so," Jannah answered instantly, her words cutting through the morning air like a silver blade. She leaned back against her chair, her gaze steady. "It had been our very first night together since he started courting me. I had kept him at a distance for a long time... and I only allowed him into my bed yesterday."

"Five years?" Joanne gasped softly, her manicured hand rising to her lips as she shook her head in mock horror. "Five years of absolute starvation? No wonder he completely lost his mind. But still... how utterly heartless of him to go that incredibly hard on a virgin. He must have known how much it would hurt you."

Jannah offered a thin, ghost-like smile, her eyes finally shifting a fraction of a millimeter to catch the rigid profile of the billionaire CEO sitting next to her. "Perhaps the boyfriend simply couldn’t stand the sight of me, Lady Joanne. Perhaps he finds me dirty... and wanted to break me out of spite."

"Oh, don’t be ridiculous, child," Joanne scoffed gently, waving her hand in a dismissive, elegant gesture. "It’s only normal that he lost control. Look at yourself—even in that plain maid’s blouse, you are very pretty. Your skin is flawless, and your features are quite striking. The man clearly couldn’t hold himself under the pressure of having you near."

"Indeed," a deep, gravelly voice interrupted.

The sound was a sudden, heavy rumble that caused the air in the dining hall to instantly drop ten degrees. Dorrent had finally spoken. He slowly laid his digital tablet down onto the wood, his eyes turning toward Jannah with a dark, unhinged intensity that seemed to physically strip the clothes from her body. He undressed her with his eyes, his gaze tracing the swell of her breasts beneath the cotton, the line of her waist, and the hidden threshold between her thighs where his fingers had been just twenty-four hours ago.

"The boyfriend indeed couldn’t hold himself," Dorrent continued, his voice dropping into a thick, husky register that vibrated with a terrifying, dual meaning that only Jannah could decode. "The man was completely overwhelmed by her... and right now, he is probably thinking about having her pinned beneath him again, tearing away whatever clothes she uses to hide from him, until she can’t walk properly."

Joanne froze for a split second, a sudden, cold prickle of confusion crossing her eyes as she listened to the strange, raw intensity in Dorrent’s tone. She couldn’t understand why her pristine, corporate Alpha fiancé was speaking about a maid’s sex life with such a granular, predatory focus.

Seeking to break the bizarre tension and reassert her own dominance over the space, Joanne reached into her premium leather handbag. She pulled out a platinum card that shimmered under the morning sun—the exclusive, highly coveted executive membership token for BeautyPass.

She slid the card across the table, stopping it right before Jannah’s porcelain saucer.

"You know, Jannah," Joanne said, her voice reclaiming its sharp, professional authority as she smiled warmly. "A girl with your unique, striking looks shouldn’t be wasting her youth scrubbing the floors. Take my business card. You can call me whenever you feel like you are ready to leave this house and show the world how truly pretty you are. I can turn you into a star within three months."

Jannah’s fingers hovered over the platinum card, her mind immediately calculating how an agency contract like BeautyPass could provide her with an independent financial escape route.

But before her fingertips could even make contact with the edge of the plastic, a hand shot across the table with the sudden, violent velocity of a striking viper.

Dorrent snatched the card right out from under her hand, his fingers crumpling the premium platinum material with a dull, cracking sound. His face was twisted into a mask of pure, possessive rage, his eyes flaring with a dangerous, untamed crimson hue as he looked across the table at Joanne.

"Dorrent?" Joanne blinked, her breath catching in her throat at the sudden, raw display of aggression. "What on earth are you doing?"

"I told you last time, Joanne," Dorrent growled, his voice a flat, freezing rasp that left absolutely no room for negotiation or argument. He tossed the ruined, bent card onto his side of the table, his eyes locking onto Jannah’s defiant pupils with an untouchable finality. "I told you that I would personally look for a proper candidate for your agency. Don’t try to steal the maid."

The finality in his words hung in the air like a heavy block of ice, the sheer weight of his aura forcing the supermodel to clamp her mouth shut in stunned silence, while Jannah slowly leaned back, her core clenching as his possessive gaze continued to hold her trapped in his sight.