Chapter 12
Donovan’s blood boiled at the sight of Giselle’s smug expression. He moved closer. “It’s always about the money with you, isn’t it? Whatever you’re trying to bleed him for—name your price. I’ll pay it right now.”
As he pulled out his phone to make the transfer, Giselle let out a derisive laugh. “Donovan, you don’t seriously believe every man I’m with is just for money, do you? You couldn’t be more wrong.”
She stood up, closing the distance between them, her eyes locked on his. “Let me spell it out for you. Zachary is the ‘younger guy’ who took me out for a late-night drive last time. We’ve known each other for six months now. Unlike a stale 22-year-old like you, he’s young, energetic, sweet, romantic, and actually meets my emotional needs. So yeah, I’ve decided to date this perfect, adorable younger guy. Why ruin things by bringing money into it?”
Donovan fought to keep his anger in check, his voice rough as he demanded, “You slept with him?”
Giselle smirked. “Yeah. He’s just as good as you and way more in sync with me. In just six months, we’ve done it more times than you and I did in an entire year—”
Before she could finish speaking, he struck her hard across the face. For a split second, Giselle froze, her mind going completely blank from the shock. But just as fast, she snapped out of it and slapped him across the cheek with twice the force.
Before Donovan could react, she landed another furious kick on his thigh. The blow, though aimed away from a vulnerable spot, was sharp enough to hurt. She caught the flash of suppressed rage in his eyes. Just then, Arne walked in and witnessed the scene.
“Don!” Arne rushed over, frantically checking him for injuries. “Are you okay?” When Arne noticed the trickle of blood at Donovan’s lip from the slap, he immediately grabbed a tissue and dabbed it away.
Once Arne had cleaned him up, he spun toward Giselle and snapped, “What the hell is wrong with you? Was there any need to come here and lose it like that? Are you insane? Why did you hit him that hard?”
Giselle offered an excuse. “Your fiancé just tried to rape me. I was defending myself.”
Anne’s face froze, then she fired back, furious, “Watch your damn mouth, Giselle! You’ve already got a bad reputation. Don’t you dare drag him into your filth!”
Giselle ignored her. Even a single word felt like too much effort. But Anne stepped closer, her voice sharp with accusation. “How the hell did you get in here? What are you even doing here?” After all, this was Donovan’s most private residence. Aside from the Kanes and Anne—his fiancée—no outsiders would have been allowed in so easily.
“Ask your man yourself. Why the fuck should I explain anything to you?” Giselle shot back. All she wanted was to get out of there. She turned to grab her bag from the couch.
“Explain yourself!” Anne stepped in her way, her eyes blazing with fury. “Giselle, I don’t give a damn how trashy you are with other guys, but if you dare to try anything with my fiancé, you’ll regret it.”
“Oh, really?” Giselle’s gaze was cold with contempt. “What happened to the sweet, gracious heiress? Run out of patience already? I thought you were all about playing the saint. What’s with the sudden temper? Be careful. Your perfect image might just slip.”
Anne’s rage was palpable. Giselle ignored her, grabbed her things, and headed for the door. She deliberately brushed against Donovan’s arm as she passed. It was her own quiet form of payback. His breath hitched. He gave her a look of pure disgust, but she was already striding off with a sly smile.