Albatross quietly mixed a drink for Arabella.
Arabella could handle strong liquor; she controlled it well, savoring the sensation of alcohol's edge just before it overwhelmed.
She suppressed the overwhelming sensation deep within his body, like the rush after taking a drug, the stimulation surging to his head. At that moment, his desires, impulses, and lust all exploded completely.
But Arabella had to restrain it.
It took her over a year to learn to control this thrill, repeatedly bringing herself to the brink and pulling back.
Swirling her glass, Arabella smiled and complimented Albatross, "The drink is excellent, as good as a professional's."
"Do you like it?" Albatross lifted his gaze. His green eyes were deep, locking onto Arabella's with intensity, waiting for her response.
"I do." Arabella squinted slightly, keenly noticing Albatross's discomfort. "What's wrong? Still bothered by that pet?"
Am I not your pet?
Albatross almost blurted the question out loud, but it stayed stuck in his throat, too afraid to be asked.
He was afraid of receiving a confirming answer, but he also wanted to know.
Arabella seemed amused by Albatross's expression. She reached out, cupping his face, and lightly placed a kiss on his lips.
"A pet has nothing to fear."
Before long, the pet Arabella had bought was properly settled and brought upstairs.
The man before them had changed into a neatly ironed shirt, simple in style, but of exquisite craftsmanship. His imposing figure made it appear even more stately. His eyes were mesmerizing, like stars, so dazzling that they drew attention away from his sharply defined face.
Her presence was commanding; even though her identity was awkward, her posture remained upright.
When she saw Arabella, her gaze flickered, almost as if mocking, but it was gone in an instant.
Arabella finished her drink without meeting her gaze, casually asking, "How did you get sold?"
"I'm from Scalien. I run an investment company. I was originally going here for business, but I was deceived. My name is Nicholas Chatham. If you let me go, I'll offer a price—"
Arabella laughed, cutting off Nicholas's unfinished sentence.
What does that mean? Is it funny?
Nicholas looked up to meet Arabella's eyes, unafraid of her.
Perhaps because Arabella was a woman, she seemed more likely to soften; or maybe it was her warm smile that didn't seem dangerous.
In any case, Nicholas believed he still had a chance to escape.
After all, it was just business. The price was negotiable, and he knew his worth. The price was high, but he could pay ten times that if necessary.
"Raven."
With just a command, Raven took the order and left.
Nicholas stared somewhat perplexedly as the man in black silently walked out, leaving the woman slumped in the boss's chair, her legs crossed and resting on the desk.
The leather cushion was soft and comfortable, so she sank into it lazily, with no image of dignity left.
This was the first time he had seen a woman who didn't care about her image.
He frowned, assuming she was just another spoiled rich girl.
Time passed by, second by second, as the person sitting ignored the one standing. They simply continued drinking, opening a bottle of liquor and pouring one glass after another without pause, finishing more than half the bottle in the blink of an eye.
Nicholas glanced a few times and observed carefully. He quickly discarded his previous conclusion—the woman sitting there had an unusual aura, one that could never be compared to that of a rich girl.
People say there are beauties with skin, and others with bone.
The skin is the first layer, with countless variations; the bone is the second, pure and stunning; but there is a third layer to beauty.
Such a beauty might not possess the first two layers, making her particularly easy to overlook.
Common people can see the skin and bone, which is good enough, but how many can see the soul?
A woman with a soul-binding presence — unless the man himself was skilled enough to decipher it, he would never see through the captivating, soul-stealing allure within.
Nicholas was still studying the woman seated when the man in black called Raven returned, respectfully standing by her side and bowing to report.
"Verification is correct."
Nicholas immediately knew what the man had gone out to do. He wasn't lying, so he wasn't afraid of being checked.
"Since you've verified my identity, you know I can meet the asking price."
Arabella finished the last of her drink, letting out a satisfied sigh. "I don't need the money. You can leave, but leave something behind."
"What?"
After observing her earlier, a feeling of unease flickered through Nicholas.
The woman wore a constant smile, yet there was a scent in the air, tinged with blood, a kind of cruelty that didn't need a blade to be felt.
"Your eyes. Leave your eyes, and you can go." Arabella replied, her tone casual.
Nicholas took a step back, but Raven stepped forward, his gaze sharp as a knife, locking onto his eyes.
To gouge out his eyes—it was too brutal.
Nicholas was just a businessman, who believed in the principle of harmony bringing wealth. He had never encountered such a blood-soaked transaction.
"You don't want money? Then why leave me alive?" Nicholas asked, curious. Was she just after his looks?
"Oh—stay for sex."
But it was this blunt response, without any pretense.
Once in bed, Nicholas's mindset broke.
He had gone from an ordinary man to a male pet, and naturally, he harbored resentment.
He vented his anger in bed, pinning her down, and biting at her nipple aggressively.
He bit, licked, and ground his teeth, passing on a mix of pain and numbness.
After a long while of licking and sucking, Nicholas took a deep breath and asked, "You still haven't told me your name."
The woman lying beneath "I'm--Arabella" answered with a drawn-out tone, but her rhythm was calm and even.
Did she not feel moved?
He stretched out his hand and pulled open a long, slender leg, then ran his other hand down it, which was wet and clearly well-prepared.
Bending down to look closely at the person below her, she had big, watery eyes that seemed to glow with light. The feeling of being pressed down was soft and gentle, just like a normal woman, but there was something different about her.
Arabella's face remained in a smile, and at that moment, there was a hint of laziness in her expression, as if lounging on the bed.
But Nicholas felt it was fake. A knot of frustration tightened in his chest.
There's no reason why the same physiological responses - her arousal, his erection, the expression on their faces - should be so radically different.
The underwear and undergarments were torn off by him and thrown carelessly under the bed.
His movements weren't exactly rough, but the force behind them was undeniable.
Her eyes were too beautiful, vast like the stars, giving the impression of deep affection no matter what they were fixed on.
He breathed softly into Arabella's ear, biting her lower lip, his tongue lightly licking it: "So, how is it? Can my performance keep your eyes on me now?"
Mentioning his eyes, Arabella looked seriously into his.
Sometimes, sexual attraction between men and women exists on a broad scale, but also reveals itself in subtle, scattered details.
At the auction, Arabella had already felt that these eyes could shine brightly in the light and sparkle brilliantly in the darkness.
"Not enough, you need to try harder," Arabella responded with a kiss, and the two became entangled, swallowing all their moans within each other.
They grew wetter, their redness and fullness drawing Nicholas into a state of loss of control.
He turned with his partner, their standing position creating fierce collisions, the rhythm fluctuating, but each deep thrust seemed more forceful than the last.
Those eyes changed, from clear sea water to the rolling flames of fire.
The flames blazed wildly, carrying a frenzied energy.
Arabella was moved three times, her body drenched in sweat.
When the climax came, she grabbed Nicholas's hair, pushing his head down, pressing her forehead against his.
Making love is truly a comfortable thing—it can relieve the fire.
Arabella thought that after many years, upon hearing the word "Scalien," she would probably go on a killing spree.
But evidently, more than a year of control had allowed her to perfectly suppress her addiction, desires, alcohol, and hatred.
She quietly withdrew the hand that had been resting on the man's neck.
The skills on the bed were perfect, able to relieve the fire, and those eyes were beautiful.
She decided to keep him a little longer.
