CHAPTER 31: 10,000 COINS AND ONE DEVIL’S SMILE

(Evelina’s POV—Vinter Corporation, Private Port—Afternoon)

Theo Vinter wiped blood off his cheek with a pristine white handkerchief... Except it wasn’t pristine anymore. It looked like modern art. Violent modern art.

He gave me a gentleman’s smile. A literal corpse slid behind him like a bowling ball.

"It was a little messy," he said pleasantly, tucking the blood-soaked handkerchief into his suit pocket. "I hope you don’t mind."

THUD!!!!

Another man flew across the port and landed face-first into a container.

I smiled back professionally. A businesswoman in a green dress standing in a murder zone.

"Yes," I said sweetly. "I absolutely don’t mind. I was only here to check the products."

Theo’s grin widened—deadly, amused. He gestured down a path... a path made entirely of unconscious (possibly dead) bodies.

"This way, please."

... This man really laid out a corpse carpet for me.

Rowan stepped closer behind me like a silent shadow ready to commit twelve homicides.

I leaned slightly and whispered, "Rowan."

"Yes, Miss?" He lowered his head so only I could hear.

I kept my polite smile plastered on as I asked under my breath, "Do you happen to know any professional technique for... not getting blood on your sandals?"

He paused. Then answered quietly, absolutely serious: "Should I pick you up?"

. . .

I blinked.

My brain: ??? My soul: !!! My dignity: threatened

Theo looked like he’d shoot Rowan for the idea alone. I quickly cleared my throat and resumed walking as if nothing scandalous had been whispered.

"No," I said stiffly, dignity clinging to life. "I am... ready to dirty my shoes."

Rowan nodded respectfully. Theo glared murderously at Rowan. Rowan glared back like he was ready to break Theo’s neck. A random unconscious body groaned at my feet.

Perfect ambiance.

I stepped once—SQUELCH.

I stared at the ground, then at my sandal, then at the universe.

"I’m billing you for shoe damage," I told Theo politely.

He laughed. "I’ll buy you ten more pairs."

Rowan followed quietly, looking around.

I walked—carefully—beside Theo.

"I’m ready, Mr. Vinter," I said. "Let’s continue."

He offered his hand. Rowan stepped between us before I could blink. Theo’s smile twitched. Rowan’s eye scanned for danger. The bodies twitched.

And I?

I kept walking.

Because sanity died the moment I entered this damn game.

***

(Later—Vinter Corporation Port—Product Testing Zone)

The carnage site transitioned into the loading docks, where the "products" were stacked neatly in towering rows.

For the first time today, nothing was flying in the air.

Small victories.

I rolled up the sleeves of my green dress—carefully, because bloodstains on couture were not tax-deductible—and got to work.

"Rowan," I said.

"Yes, Miss."

"Next box."

He lifted a crate marked FRAGILE—HARTGRAVE EXPORTS as if it weighed nothing.He held the box steady while I cut through the seal, inspected the velvet-lined compartments, and double-checked the manifest.

Diamonds.Rubies.Sapphires.Enough gems to blind a stadium.

I closed the lid and tapped the crate. "Good. Next."

Rowan silently took it aside and handed me another.

Theo Vinter, leaning against a steel container with the casual danger of a man who breaks laws for breakfast, watched me with a glass of wine in hand.

"I don’t understand," he drawled, eyes half-lidded as they dragged over my posture, my hands, and my movements. "Doesn’t your company always send diamonds and rubies through the port? Why personally check?"

I didn’t look at him. I just inspected another crate and replied calmly:

"Because it’s my first time managing such a big deal by myself... so I’m checking everything twice."

Theo hummed.

A low, dark sound.The kind that slid down my spine like velvet dipped in smoke.

When I finally looked up, he was staring.

Not at the diamonds.

At me.

His gaze was slow, sharp... and far too appreciative.

"So thorough," he murmured, lifting his glass in my direction. "Didn’t know you had that side."

"It shouldn’t surprise you," I said coolly.

"Oh, it doesn’t surprise me," Theo corrected softly, stepping off the container. "It interests me."

My eyebrow twitched.

I went back to inspecting.

He didn’t go away.

He stepped closer—close enough that the warm scent of expensive wine and something darker brushed the air between us.

"Tell me," he said, leaning slightly, voice dropping to something sinful, "do you work this hard... for every man you deal with?"

Rowan continued doing his work, as if...he didn’t even exist.

I looked at Theo dead in the eyes.

"No," I said. "Only for profits."

His lips curved.Sharp.Predatory.Approving.

"Then I must be profitable to you," he murmured.

I smiled sweetly, dangerously.

"You? No. But the gems are."

Theo’s smile deepened.

Ah yes. The male lead’s dangerous flirtation package. Unlocked.

I snapped a crate shut and gestured to Rowan.

"Next."

Rowan moved instantly—stepping subtly between me and Theo like a silent wall, blocking Kael’s line of sight.

Theo huffed a quiet laugh.

"Your bodyguard is quite bold," he said.

"No," I corrected, "he’s doing his job."

"Is he?" he murmured.

A quiet crackle buzzed in the air. But it wasn’t from Rowan. Oh no—Rowan was calm as a winter lake, expression unreadable, hands steady as he lifted another crate.

The static?

That belonged entirely to Theo Vinter, who had turned toward us with the slow, deadly focus of a mafia king catching a rival sniffing around his territory.

Lovely.

Theo smoothly stepped between us—shoulders relaxed, smile sharp. As if he hadn’t just tossed three grown men into the horizon minutes ago.

He gestured toward a crate overflowing with gemstones and asked with a warm, dripping charm:

"Do you like diamonds, Miss Hartgrave?"

I didn’t bother looking at him. "Every girl does, Mr. Vinter."

He nodded thoughtfully, gaze fixed on my face. "And what kind of diamonds do you like?"

Without blinking.

Without hesitation.

With a small glint of pure materialistic ambition in my eyes:

"The expensive ones."

Theo blinked.

Rowan did not react—because he was Rowan.

Then Theo’s lips stretched into a slow smirk, his voice dropping like he was about to propose something scandalously expensive.

"Then I shall give you the most—"

"No."

I cut him cleanly. Swift. Surgical.

Theo paused.

Even the crates collectively gasped.

"You... don’t want diamonds?" Theo repeated slowly, utterly baffled.

"Correct."

"But you said you liked expensive ones."

"Yes," I replied, still checking the manifest, "but my wardrobe is already full."

Theo blinked at me like I’d just said I was allergic to oxygen. Rowan simply placed the next crate before me.

Theo, recovering himself, slid a bit closer. "Then... what would you like as a gift, Miss Hartgrave?"

Without missing a beat—without blinking—with the calm of a person asking for sugar in tea:

"10,000 gold coins," I said. "The real ones."

. . .

. . .

Theo stared.

Blink.

Blink, blink.

Rowan froze mid-lift, eyes narrowing so slightly it almost wasn’t visible—but oh, I felt the judgment.

"The—" Theo’s voice cracked for the first time in his mafia existence, "10,000... gold coins?"

"Yes."

He blinked harder.

"You didn’t... hesitate."

"I don’t want to," I replied coolly. "Because that is exactly what I need right now."

I stood there, holding a diamond the size of a baby tooth, saying gold was more important.

Because it was. The hidden route demanded it. Theo’s smirk returned—slow, intrigued, and dangerous. Rowan quietly picked up another crate and muttered under his breath:

"...Miss, is too demand-y."

But Theo?

Theo stepped closer, voice low, almost amused:

"You’re a very... unexpected woman, Miss Hartgrave."

"I get that a lot."

"And bold."

"Only when needed."

His eyes glimmered. "Then consider your request... noted."

I smiled sweetly. "As long as it’s noted with precision, Mr. Vinter."

Theo’s smirk sharpened.

And I?

I continued checking diamonds while ordering 10,000 gold coins like I was at a grocery store.

He watched me with that unnerving intensity until he finally asked:

"But why," Theo drawled, "do you need gold coins, Miss Hartgrave?"

I glanced at him over my shoulder. Calm. Deadpan. Unbothered. "Maybe... because I don’t have gold coins in my wardrobe."

Rowan paused mid-lift.

Theo nodded like I’d given him poetry.

"I see."

Then he stepped closer.

Closer. So close his breath brushed my cheek—warm, smoky, a little sweet— His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and dark and hungry.

"And what," he murmured, voice dipped in velvet and danger, "will I get... in return?"

The air tightened.

Rowan turned very slowly, gaze cold as winter steel.

And me?

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t step back. I only tipped my chin and smirked—slow, confident, lethal.

"I’ll give you," I whispered, "whatever you desire, Mr. Vinter."

A promise.

A threat.

A headline of tomorrow’s scandal.

Then—

FLICK. A sharp snap of his fingers.

FLICK.

Again.

Immediately, one of his men sprinted over like Theo had pressed a summoning button.

"Yes, Boss!!"

Theo didn’t break eye contact with me.

"Call Liam," he ordered. Voice firm, cold, and absolute. "Tell him to bring 10,000 gold coins. Right now."

The man’s eyes widened. "Y–Yes, Boss!" He ran like his soul depended on it.

My own eyes flew open.

"What—?! Are you serious?"

Theo’s smirk deepened—dangerous and thrilled, as if he’d just won a bet no one else knew he placed. He leaned in, voice dropping to a sinful whisper only I could hear:

"I hope," he murmured, "You don’t forget your promise... It will be worth every coin, Miss Hartgrave."

My heartbeat stilled.

And Theo?

Theo looked at me like I just signed a contract with the devil. A contract named Evelina Hartgrave.