Chapter 1

“Is your period over?”

“Yeah.”

“Meet me at 7:00 pm.”

Giselle Holt smirked at the man’s curt WhatsApp message. Her reply was simple: “Fine.”

She was riding the mountain roads with friends when she realized it was past 6:00 pm. Slamming her boot down, she gunned the throttle. Her Harley, worth a fortune, roared as she tore through the winding curves, finally skidding to a halt before a villa nestled between mountains and river.

Giselle removed her helmet and gloves before entering the living room. The grand hall was elegant and lavish, yet imbued with a stillness, a sense of frozen time and hidden secrets.

The man reclined on the couch, smoking silently, as if expecting her. His face, framed by swirling smoke, was sharply chiseled—almost unreal in its perfection.

Giselle had no patience for foreplay. As she approached, she began shedding her clothes—first her jacket, then her hair cascading free. She transformed from leather-clad biker into something straight out of a fantasy. Walking to him, she swung a leg over him and settled onto his lap.

With a careless flick, she snatched the half-smoked cigarette from his lips. Taking a slow drag, she exhaled lazily, then returned it to his mouth.

“Should I shower first?” she asked, her arms around his neck, her gaze smoldering.

“No need.”

He cupped her chin, his thumb brushing her lips before capturing them in a possessive kiss. She met his intensity perfectly. His touch burned against her skin.

His name was Donovan Kane. A year earlier, he’d saved her life after a shark attack while surfing in Haleona’s deep waters. That terrifying moment had ignited a wild, unforgettable night.

After returning home, they’d fallen into a predictable arrangement: contractual lovers. He met her financial needs; she was available whenever he desired. They’d been together for a year, yet she knew nothing about him beyond his name—not that she cared. All that mattered was the intense pleasure their encounters brought.

This time was no different. They expertly explored each other's bodies, beginning in the living room before moving upstairs to the master bedroom, leaving a trail of scattered clothes.

Over an hour later, the passion subsided. Giselle slumped against the headboard, utterly spent, incapable of movement.

Meanwhile, Donovan, showered and dressed, had resumed his detached persona—the cool, high-class gentleman. He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling from his lips as his gaze fixed on her. Watching her, already distanced from their shared passion, his expression darkened with something unreadable.

He’d always known her casual nature, but irritation pricked him nonetheless. Taking several sharp drags, he pulled out his phone and began tapping.

Soon, Giselle’s phone buzzed with a bank notification. A transfer from Donovan’s account. The number of zeros made her dizzy. She counted carefully—a one followed by seven zeros. Ten million dollars.

Giselle wondered if he'd added an extra zero by mistake.

Then, in a cold, quiet voice, he said, “This is the last time we’ll see each other. Don’t contact me again.”

Giselle was stunned. “Why?”