CHAPTER 91: PUNISHING HER FOR HAVING A BOYFRIEND

After tossing and turning for over two hours, he finally rolled off the bed, picked up the clothes scattered on the floor, and tossed them into the laundry basket.

The room was freezing, yet her body was slick with sweat.

She swore Lucas’s bones were forged from steel—otherwise, how could she feel like she’d been utterly crushed?

*Typical old man,* she scoffed inwardly.

*Must’ve been desperate to blow off steam.*

"Lucas!

Just how lonely are you?

You’d pounce on any random girl without a second thought!"

Beauty shot him a scathing look, her pink lips pressed tight, her voice deliberately cool and raised.

Suddenly, his strikingly handsome yet icy face loomed close, his teeth lightly grazing her earlobe.

She shuddered at the unexpected touch.

Luckily, he didn’t bite down—just left her skin tingling.

"You weren’t exactly resisting earlier.

In fact, you seemed even more... *enthusiastic* than last time."

*Enthusiastic.*

The word burned her with shame.

She must’ve lost her mind to have gone along with him!

"If you ever dare fool around outside again," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "I’ll make sure you learn what true suffering feels like—over and over."

His gaze was like twin blades, sharp and unrelenting, slicing into her chest until she could barely breathe.

Then, struck by a sudden thought, Beauty lifted her eyes to meet his.

With every word dripping with sincerity, she asked earnestly, "What about Dyson?

Will you go after him?

Please don’t touch him, okay?

He has nothing to do with this. It was me... I was the one who seduced him."

She knew Lucas’s methods all too well, understood the extent of his influence in paris.

There were countless ways he could make someone’s life a living hell, and she refused to drag anyone else into this mess.

His pupils contracted sharply as a large hand clamped around her chin.

"I hadn’t even considered dealing with him yet.

But now that my woman is pleading for him, it’d be a shame not to act.

Tomorrow, he’ll vanish from school—and from paris altogether.

He’ll stay far away from you.

Remember this: from now on, every man who dares get close to you will find themselves removed from your life, one way or another."

Beauty’s gaze turned hollow, tears spilling over her lashes.

She knew Lucas’s power all too well—making someone disappear from paris was as easy as snapping his fingers for him.

Her first love had just been obliterated, reduced to nothing.

Perhaps she would never experience anything like it again...

As long as she remained by this tyrant’s side, she could forget about ever having a love of her own.

Her body no longer belonged to her—what else did she even have left?

His long, elegant fingers traced the smooth curve of her jade-like cheek, gently wiping away her tears.

A deep, velvety voice murmured in her ear, "Once you’re mine, don’t even think about running away so soon."

"Who’s yours?"

She scoffed, defiance flashing in her eyes.

"I can’t be the only girl you’ve slept with.

Are all of them ’your women’ too?"

At this point, she had nothing left to fear.

The worst he could do was ship her abroad like he was doing to Dyson.

Maybe that would even be a blessing—finally free from this twisted man’s grasp.

Lucas exhaled softly against her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine like a swarm of ants crawling under her skin, the sensation itching all the way to her core.

He truly possessed the ability to make women lose themselves over him—just a fleeting moment of tenderness could leave one yearning endlessly.

With his long legs, he stepped onto the bed and pulled the petite figure in his arms close.

The stubble he hadn’t shaved that morning now dotted his jawline in faint shades of shadow.

Beauty, for some inexplicable reason, reached out to pluck at the dark stubble on his chin.

Lucas didn’t stop her, his deep, cold eyes flickering with an unreadable light as he let her climb over him and wreak havoc however she pleased.

"Right now, you’re the only woman in my life.

We signed a contract, remember?

I’m your guardian now—everything about you falls under my control."

Beauty shot him a frosty glare, her eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head.

She yanked out one of his stubbles with deliberate force and scoffed, "Oh, so you’re my guardian now? Is this how you take care of me?

If Grandpa knew—" She suddenly caught herself and swallowed the rest of her words. She knew that, compared to her, Lucas’s bond with Grandpa ran far deeper.

Thinking of the room he lived in, it was clear that beneath his icy exterior—his seemingly ruthless demeanor—lay a surprisingly tender heart. He just hid it exceptionally well.

"If Grandpa knew I was taking such good care of you, he’d be very happy," he murmured in a low voice.

Before they stretched a vast glass window, the black-and-white curtains swayed gently in the evening breeze.

The faint chirping of cicadas could still be heard in the distance.

Beauty curled up into a ball, her cool eyes gazing out at the moonlit night.

This room had the best view in the entire villa complex, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows.

During the day, one could see sailboats gliding across the distant river and the lush shrubs covering the green mountains.

A gentle breeze would carry the scent of flowers into the room.

"How exactly have you been taking care of me?"

Beauty turned her head, shooting him a frosty glare.

Her pink lips pressed together tightly, her expression full of reluctance.

"I even hold you in my arms while you sleep. Isn’t that good enough for you?"

Lucas delivered the shameless line with a straight face.

Beauty kicked him hard, but the pain made her eyes water.

Even though she was the one who had lashed out, his rock-solid body left her worse for wear.

Fortunately, the villa was exceptionally quiet at night, and the household staff were likely having dinner in another room at this hour.

No one would hear the commotion in this room—let alone Beauty’s muffled cries and pleas for mercy.

Exhausted, she finally collapsed into his arms, drowsy and spent.

Even in her sleep, she murmured incoherently—except for one phrase he managed to catch.

"Please let Dyson go... He’s a good man.

I promise I’ll never act out again..."

A cold smirk curled Lucas’s lips, his hawk-like eyes glinting with menace.

He tugged the blanket to tuck her in properly before rising from the bed.

Grabbing the bathrobe draped over the sofa, he slipped it on.

The dim, amber-toned lighting cast sharp shadows across his chiseled features, accentuating his frustration.

He yanked open the fridge, pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and took a swig straight from the bottle—no glass needed.

His thick brows furrowed as the pale moonlight filtered through the windows, sculpting his face into something statue-like.

The liquor burned his throat, bitter in a way he’d never tasted before.

He glanced back at the figure on the bed, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"Woman, you signed the contract.

You’re mine for life.

Thinking of running away?

Not a chance—not even a crack in the wall.

As for that reckless bastard who dares lay a finger on what’s mine...

I’ll make sure he learns exactly who calls the shots around here."