Vengeance in His Bed

"What’s the damn difference?!" Jannah spat into his handsome face, her eyes blazing with a fierce, unyielding fire as she leaned across the narrow space between them.

Dorrent leaned back slightly against the headrest, his eyes narrowing as he studied the sharp, agitated tilt of her jaw. A low, dangerous rumble vibrated in his chest.

"The difference," Dorrent delivered smoothly, his voice dropping an octave into a low, raspy purr, "is whether my fiancée is truly as indifferent as she claims to be. Tell me, Jannah... will you genuinely be comfortable sitting right here and watching another woman put her hands on my collar to do it?"

"I don’t mind at all!" Jannah hissed instantly, her chest heaving as she crossed her arms tightly over her shirt. "I don’t care if a hundred women dress you! You mean absolutely nothing to me!"

"Then if you don’t mind," Dorrent countered, a dark, wicked smirk slowly cutting across his lips, "why is your pitch so unnaturally high? Why are you practically screaming over a piece of tie?"

"I am NOT screaming!" Jannah shrieked, her face turning a bright crimson.

"You are," Dorrent murmured, his eyes flashing with dark amusement. "And if you do mind—if that stubborn little mind of yours hates the thought of another woman touching me—then you can simply do it yourself. You should start getting used to doing these things for me, little physician. We will be husband and wife soon enough."

Jannah stared at him, her eyes wide with rage. Her mind screamed at her to refuse, to tell him to rot in hell, but his arrogant, self-satisfied expression made something in her chest snap. She couldn’t stand the smug, untouchable air radiating from him.

"Fine!" Jannah snapped stubbornly through her teeth. "You want me to tie your stupid tie?! Fine!"

She lunged forward across the seat, her small hands shooting out to grab the loose ends of the fabric hanging around his neck. Dorrent didn’t move an inch, his eyes tracking her every movement with a hooded hunger as her scent washed over him in a sudden, sweet wave.

Jannah didn’t offer a single shred of gentleness. With an aggressive flick of her wrists, she looped the tie over itself, pulling the knot together with violent force. She grabbed the narrow tail of the tie and yanked it upward with all her strength, deliberately tightening the band around his throat until it choked off his airway.

The force of the sudden, brutal pull yanked Dorrent’s upper body forward, pulling his head down until his face was mere millimeters from hers.

"There!" Jannah hissed, her eyes glaring venomously into his. "Is that tight enough for you, Alpha Grefo?!"

Dorrent’s reflexes took complete control. A possessive flash exploded in his eyes. Before Jannah could even register his movement or release the silk in her hands, Dorrent’s palm shot up, cupping the back of her head with an iron grip. He surged the remaining inch forward and forcefully slammed his mouth directly onto hers.

"Mmmph!"

The kiss was sudden, dominant, and heavy with the scent of his winter-frost pheromones. He captured her lips with an unyielding authority, his tongue sweeping past her parted teeth before she could even draw a breath to curse him. For three long, suffocating heartbeats, he thoroughly consumed her mouth, drinking the sweet, fluid heat from her tongue while holding her trapped against his face.

When he finally pulled back just an inch, his lips were wet and glistening, his heavy breath fanning hot across her flushed skin.

Jannah gasped for air, her frame trembling as she shoved her hands against his shoulders, wrenching herself backward until her spine slammed against the car door. "You pervert!" she choked out, her voice cracking as she aggressively wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes glittering with tears of indignation. "You disgusting, perverted monster!"

Dorrent leaned back casually against his seat, not even bothering to loosen the choking knot she had left around his collar. A broad unbothered smirk touched his lips as he looked at her flushed, breathless face.

"If kissing one’s own fiancée makes a man a pervert," Dorrent purred, his baritone vibrating with triumph, "then I don’t mind being one at all. And besides... it certainly looked like you wanted that kiss very badly, Jannah. After all, you were the one who pulled my head forward to your face."

"Go to hell, Dorrent!" Jannah cursed him, her entire body shaking as she turned her back on him once more, pressing her shoulder hard against the window frame to put as much distance between them as the vehicle allowed. "Damn you!"

Shadron kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he navigated the long, winding highway that led away from the gleaming high-district skyscrapers toward the decaying industrial perimeter. The silence inside the carriage settled back down. Shalen sat quietly beside Dorrent, her gaze flicking briefly between the CEO’s smug expression and the rigid back of the girl sitting by the opposite door, though she wisely chose not to utter another word.

As the luxury transport crossed the secondary checkpoints, the scenery outside changed dramatically. The pristine glass towers and manicured sky-gardens vanished, replaced by towering grey factory walls, rusted iron pipes venting sour steam, and finally, the cramped, suffocating maze of the 3rd Street bogs.

The transport finally screeched to a halt at the edge of the narrow alleyway.

The moment the automatic doors slid open, the atmosphere shifted. Passersby in faded, threadbare clothes stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes locking onto the visitors with open, hostile curiosity. Old market women carrying bruised produce stared with sharp, suspicious glares, their eyes lingering heavily on Dorrent’s massive, pristine frame as if they wanted to tear the arrogant tycoon to pieces right there on the grime-stained cobblestones.

Jannah stepped out first, her shoes hitting the familiar, damp dirt of her childhood. She marched straight toward the warped wooden door of her grandfather’s house, her hand gripping the rusted iron key in her pocket. As she inserted the key into the lock, she spun around on her heel, fixing Dorrent, Shadron, and Shalen with a cold, sharp glare.

"Don’t you dare step one foot inside this house, especially you, Dorrent," Jannah spat out, her voice trembling slightly with a mix of anger and sudden apprehension. "The filth of these slums will touch your precious designer suit and ruin your clean skin. Stay outside."

Shadron raised his hands, looking around at the narrow lane with a tense, uncomfortable grimace. Dorrent took a step forward, his shoes stepping onto the grime, completely ignoring her warning as he reached the threshold.

"I don’t mind at all, Jannah," Dorrent delivered flatly. His eyes locked dead onto her pale face. "Since my soon-to-be wife comes from this very place, it doesn’t matter. We will soon become one thing. Wherever you come from, whatever this place is... it is a part of me now."

Jannah let out a bitter, cynical scoff, her knuckles turning white as she turned the key with a harsh click. "We’ll see how long you can bear standing inside," she muttered, pushing the door open.

The moment Jannah crossed the threshold, the suffocating weight of the past slammed into her chest like a physical blow.

The small room was exactly as they had left it—the worn wooden table, the dried bundles of blue-leaf ginger hanging from the ceiling beams, and the faint, lingering scent of herbal teas and old paper. Her grandfather Duro had been dead for only a few days, yet the silence in the room felt ancient, vast, and suffocating. A wave of grief crashed over her heart. She missed him so terribly that her throat tightened until she couldn’t draw a proper breath.

A tear welled up in the corner of her eye. Jannah quickly blinked it back, tilting her head toward the dark rafters, praying with everything she had that nobody had noticed her break.

"Are you okay, Jannah?"