In the past, I had only one thing to say about Magnus: a cunning stray dog.
Unlike me, he wasn't born into privilege. He clawed his way up from nothing, devouring every opportunity with ruthless determination. Those who rise from nothing often stop at nothing to seize more power.
Magnus was that kind of man—unyielding and infuriating.
I recalled a time when, after he stole a major deal from me, I had tried to provoke him in retaliation.
He had merely glanced at me lazily and replied, "Thinking of keeping me? I doubt you could afford it, Miss Rothschild." But tonight, watching him lose control, I felt an odd sense of satisfaction. What's that saying…
If I get it for free, then why pay?
Magnus, the notorious germophobe, would hate this more than I ever could.
When the façade crumbled, who would mock whom more? Him or me? My thoughts scattered as his forceful grip returned, dragging me back to the moment.
His low, lazy voice whispered from behind, "Drifting off?" His warm breath ghosted over my skin.
Instinctively, I bit my lip and taunted, "What… you didn't eat enough?" Magnus stilled. Then a chuckle, slow and deliberate, rippled through the silence.
"Good."
He said only one word, and that was it. What followed was nothing but a cold, unforgiving escalation.
…
The next morning, I struggled awake, soreness sinking deeper into my limbs.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself upright and groped for my phone beneath the bed. Switching to my secondary number, I saw a new message from Weston Hayes.
"Miss Rothschild, it's done."
"Also, Jasper Thornton has surrendered to us and sent over some things."
Jasper had been Magnus's right-hand man, building their empire from scratch. For the past six months, however, tensions had flared between them—likely over uneven profits.
I had nudged Jasper in the right direction before, but I hadn't expected him to cave so soon.
Taking a deep breath, I asked, "So, what did he send over?"
"Evidence of Magnus's corporate espionage. This will guarantee he's put away."
My first thought was simple—
This was a trap. One Magnus had laid just for me.
After a brief pause, I responded, "Send it to my email. I'll review it personally."
Weston hesitated. "Miss Rothschild, don't overthink this—"
"Just do as I say."
As soon as I ended the call, the door swung open.
Magnus stood at the entrance, his gaze fixed on my now darkened phone screen. His voice was slow, deliberate. "Who were you talking to?" I hastily hid my phone. "Nothing." Magnus's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. Instinctively, I kicked at his knee before groaning in frustration. "It hurts…"
"Hurts?" Magnus's brow furrowed.
"Tell me where it hurts," I said, my ears turning red. "It's my first time dealing with something like this. Isn't it okay to ask someone?" Thinking about how intense things were last night, I still felt a little shaken.
Magnus paused, his voice tight. "Is this something you can ask others about?" He grabbed my foot and leaned down to slide it into my slipper. "Get up, I'll take you to the doctor."
