Chapter 1
“Is your period over?”
“Yeah.”
“Meet me at 7:00 pm.”
Giselle Holt stared at the man’s cold WhatsApp message, her lips curling into a smirk. Her reply was just one word.
“Fine.”
She was out riding the mountain roads with a few other bikers. When she saw it was past 6:00 pm, she slammed her boot down and gunned the throttle.
Her Harley—worth hundreds of thousands—roared as she tore through the winding roads, finally skidding to a stop in front of a villa nestled between the mountains and the river.
Giselle pulled off her helmet and gloves, then stepped into the living room. The grand hall was elegant and lavish, yet still—as if frozen in time and thick with secrets.
The man lounged on the couch, smoking silently, as if he’d been expecting her all along. His face, framed by the swirling smoke, was sharply chiseled—so flawlessly refined it seemed almost unreal.
Giselle had no patience for foreplay. As she strode toward him, she began stripping off her clothes. First came the jacket, then her hair spilled free.
She transformed from a leather-clad biker into something straight out of a fantasy. She walked up to the man, swung one leg over him, and settled into his lap.
With a careless flick, she plucked the half-smoked cigarette from his hand. She took a slow drag, let out a lazy puff of smoke, then tucked it back between his lips.
“Should I shower first?” Giselle asked, sliding her arms around his neck, her smoldering gaze locked on his.
“No need.”
He caught her chin with one finger, his thumb grazing her full lips before claiming her mouth in a possessive kiss. She matched his hunger perfectly. His hands burned like fire against her skin.
His name was Donovan Kane.
A year earlier, he had saved Giselle’s life after a shark attacked her while she was surfing in Haleona’s deep waters. That heart-stopping moment had sparked a wild, unforgettable night between them.
After returning to their home country, they fell into the cliché arrangement of contractual lovers. He met all her financial demands, and she was available whenever he wanted physical satisfaction.
They’d been sleeping together for a year, yet she knew nothing about him beyond his name—not that she cared to find out. All Giselle cared about was that, whenever they met, she experienced the most intense, raw pleasure imaginable.
This time was no different. They skillfully explored each other’s bodies, starting in the living room before moving upstairs to the master bedroom, their clothes scattered behind them.
Over an hour later, the storm between them finally subsided.
Giselle slumped against the headboard, feeling utterly spent. She didn’t feel like moving a muscle anytime soon.
Meanwhile, Donovan, freshly showered and dressed, had already slipped back into his usual role—the cool, detached “high-class gentleman”.
He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling from his lips as his gaze held her in place like a vise.
As he watched her play games without a care in the world—already distant from the passion they’d just shared—his expression darkened with something unreadable.
He’d always known she was a careless flirt, but irritation pricked at him anyway. He took a few sharp drags from his cigarette, then pulled out his phone and tapped through a series of actions.
Before long, Giselle’s phone buzzed with a bank notification. She opened it to find a transfer from Donovan’s account. The string of zeros in the amount made her head spin.
She counted the digits carefully—a one followed by seven zeros. That meant ten million dollars.
Giselle couldn’t help but wonder if Donovan had added an extra zero by mistake.
But then he said in a cold, quiet voice, “This is the last time we’ll see each other. Don’t contact me again.”
Giselle was taken aback. “Why?”
