Chapter 7

Giselle was pinned face-down on the court, Donovan pressing down. Her body fought back instinctively, but the difference in their strength made resistance futile. She was no match for him. I felt like he was venting, taking revenge; perhaps even punishing her. His ragged breathing intensified; there was something frenzied in his actions.

Giselle closed her eyes, feeling all reason and willpower drain away. At first, she let him take the lead, then she couldn't help but surrender. The intensity grew until she was lost in its wild, reckless force.

She had no idea how much time passed before it was over. Slumped on the couch, her clothes rumpled and disheveled, her body felt as though it might come undone. She didn't want to speak or move; a heavy haze clouded her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Donovan had already pulled up his pants and stood there with quiet satisfaction. His well-tailored grey suit—now slightly wrinkled where she had gripped it—fit him perfectly, hugging his lean back and broad chest.

For a moment, Giselle forgot the tension between them. Her gaze lingered on his tall, imposing frame with a tenderness that almost resembled infatuation.

Donovan smoothed his clothes and turned, only to find Giselle gazing at him, her eyes slightly dazed. Instantly, his expression hardened once more.

“I’ve said everything that needed to be said tonight. I don’t want to see you at the Holt residence again.”

He grabbed his phone and car keys and headed for the door without another word.

Giselle was used to his coldness; it hardly affected her anymore. But just as he reached for the doorknob, something prompted her to call out, “Mr. Kane, you forgot to pay, didn’t you?”

He stopped in his tracks.

Giselle stared at him with a half-smile, her voice cool and businesslike. “We settled everything last month. Tonight? That’s a separate deal.”

Donovan closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of disdain crossing his face. After a moment's thought, he took out his phone and opened WhatsApp, ready to access her bank details.

“Send me your bank account number again,” he muttered.

Only then did Giselle remember that after they had parted ways, they’d blocked each other on WhatsApp. She took out her phone, unblocked him, and sent the details.

Almost instantly, a bank transfer notification appeared. But when she saw the amount, her face fell.

“500 dollars,” Donovan said flatly, his voice thick with disdain. “That’s all you’re worth now.”

Giselle stiffened.

“Fine,” she shot back through clenched teeth, her smirk defiant. “Then I’ll just call the cops right now and tell them we’re running an illegal prostitution ring here.”

“How about we all enjoy a nice two-week stay in jail? I’ve got all the time in the world, but you? I bet that fancy wedding of yours would have to wait.”

With that, she pulled up the dial pad and punched in 911, as if she truly meant it.

Donovan glared at her for a long moment, his expression making it clear he thought she’d lost her mind. He was speechless.

“You’re that desperate for money, huh?” he asked.

“What? Should I be desperate for you instead?” she shot back.

His expression darkened; that same infuriating, inexplicable rage flared up inside him again.

Donovan had had enough of her nonsense. He pulled out his phone, opened his banking app, and transferred another ten million dollars into her account without hesitation.

“Here’s ten million dollars. Now, bury whatever was between us and stay the hell out of my life!”

With that, he turned and left, his demeanor cold and cutting. The door slammed shut behind him.