[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-2603220ECDF1-616":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},616,58,"Chapter 58: The Predator Beneath the Skin","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"That bouquet—was it always meant for me from the start?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The answer was hanging in the air, plain as day. But Violette wanted to know the root of it. Did he like her? Or did he simply want to possess her?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Between men and women, it usually came down to that singular, base dynamic.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Back in college, one of Violette's roommates had a wealthy boyfriend, and his childhood friend had spent a season chasing Violette. He was a gentleman, full of romantic gestures, never once crossing the line. Yet, there was no spark, no connection. Violette turned him down repeatedly.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">When he finally gave up, he asked, \"Are you always this hard to get?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette didn’t know how to answer. In her mind, attraction was either instantaneous or it wasn't there at all—you couldn't force a puzzle piece into the wrong slot.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The boy dropped the act. \"Fine, let’s try something simpler.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Simpler?\" Violette asked, genuinely baffled.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He looked at her with a sneer that seemed to say, *Don't play innocent.* \"What’s your price for a night?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"What?\" She turned to face him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"How much for you to sleep with me?\" he said, enunciating every word. \"If you don't like the sound of that, we can call it a hookup.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It was sheer coincidence that they were standing right outside the campus convenience store. Violette told him to wait a second, stepped inside, and walked out a moment later to smash a beer bottle across his head.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The sound of shattering glass and the spray of liquid hitting his face had felt—for a fleeting second—therapeutic.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">That incident made her a legend on campus. For the remaining four years, not a single man dared to bother her again.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Later, in the professional world, she had attended the usual sponsor-funded business dinners, just like Marilyn Stone. And what were these dinners, really? Men turned into the same creatures once they’d had enough to drink—bloated, greasy, their oversized stomachs filled with nothing but hot air and vanity.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Some looked like pillars of the community, radiating academic grace, only to turn their backs and leer at her, whispering about how \"the girls at Deepwater Broadcasting were getting prettier by the day,\" their eyes stripping her bare.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The subtler ones didn't say a word at the table, but as they were leaving, they’d have their assistants slide a hotel key card into her hand.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She had mellowed out since her college days, of course. But the worst offender had once followed her to the parking garage. She’d acted like she made a mistake and blasted his face with pepper spray until he looked like a bruised pig.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She had even offered a tearful, sincere apology afterward. \"I’m so sorry, Mr. Hayes! I thought you were a predator stalking me. You scared me to death!\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Her screams brought her father, Charles, to the scene, and the issue was buried right then and there.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Her beauty had granted her certain privileges, but it had also invited plenty of trouble. She was no stranger to wandering hands, crude jokes, and hypocrites. Many men thought that age, status, and wealth gave them the right to play god. Violette disagreed. Back then, she’d made a vow: if she ever fell in love, it would only be with someone clean, someone younger.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Blake Pierce fit her preferences. Roman Griffin was the accident.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman lacked the typical \"daddy-knows-best\" arrogance of men in his position. He was humble, guarded, and impeccably attentive.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">At times, he acted like an emotional novice—so clean, so raw that it felt out of place for a man of his stature. Violette had thought that when she agreed to marry him, she was securing stability, attracted by his icy, mountain-air demeanor.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">But the mountain air had descended into the mud.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The myth that gentlemen never build walls? It was a lie. Gentlemen were simply the best at digging tunnels underneath them.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The final piece of the puzzle fell into place. Violette finally understood the faint, lingering aggression she’d felt whenever she faced Roman. He wasn't a domestic cat; he was a panther, and his relaxation was just a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The prey was already in his grip, so he could afford to be gentle. But when he moved to hunt? He was a different animal entirely.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Ruthless?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette smoothed out her thoughts. Just like the many times she had been weighed and measured for sale, she realized that to Roman, she was a beautiful display piece in a storefront window. Behind the thin glass, he wasn't being honest. He had been planning to claim her all along.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She locked eyes with him. \"Why? You knew I had a boyfriend at the time.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"You weren't married, were you?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Her palms grew damp. A sense of disorientation took root.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"What if I had been?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"There is no 'if,'\" Roman replied.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">See? The mask was gone, and the predator was baring his teeth.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette felt suffocated. She stepped back, her skirt bunching up as she moved, hanging heavy and tight against her ankles like a wall of defense, swaddling her skin. Her hair was still a mess from their earlier rush, a stark contrast to her cooling skin, which was now shielding itself from his reach.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Are you afraid of me?\" Roman frowned.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"No. I'm not afraid.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">People subconsciously repeat themselves when they're lying. She knew it.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman’s shoulders, usually relaxed, were tight. He was fighting the urge to lean in. His grip on the bouquet tightened, the paper crinkling in the silence.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette snapped out of the hypnotic trap. She turned her head. The table was a wreck—a knocked-over wine glass, napkins stained a deep, bruised red, a steak dinner left to go cold, and candles still flickering, smelling faintly of wax. They had lost control on this very table, but now, the last of the adrenaline had faded, and her sanity was returning.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Roman, let's stop for today. Please.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Alright.\" His answer was instant.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Thank God.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette clutched her chest. Thank God Roman still respected her boundaries.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She paced the room, restless, until she heard Roman speak behind her, his voice uncharacteristically jagged. \"Do you hate me like this?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She stopped. She turned to face him. \"It's not hate.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">How could she explain it? She’d thought she was sleeping next to a rabbit, only to find a wolf in its skin. Even if the goal was the same, she needed time to process the transformation.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I just feel like I'm meeting a new side of you.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman stared into her eyes, unblinking. \"No matter which side you see, I will never do anything to harm you.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Then what was all that before?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Before?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman realized what she meant, his tone turning firm. \"He wasn't right for you. You must have felt it, too. With or without me, you two were going to break up.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The nerve of the man, to frame his manipulation with such calm elegance.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette stepped up to him and pried his fingers open one by one. She rescued the bouquet, set it aside, and tilted her head, tracing the lines of his face.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"And what about us? How do you think we end?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Before he could answer, she interrupted. \"You don't know, do you? Even if you think you can predict the future, I don't want my path to be rearranged. I'm not racing toward a finish line, so I don't want to know the result ahead of time. Do you understand what I mean?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman’s lips parted. After a long pause, he gave a single, clipped nod.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I just need to think,\" Violette repeated.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">At least she didn't hate him. That was something.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman let her head to the bedroom while he retreated to the balcony. Usually, one cigarette was enough to settle his nerves, but even as he lit the second, his heart remained a storm. He had managed to ruin the anniversary she’d carefully planned.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He didn't know if the neighbor downstairs had also opened their balcony, but he heard the faint slide of a door, followed by the creak of a rattan chair.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The terraces were split-level. The 28th-floor sky garden faced south, while the 27th faced west.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The neighbors above and below usually stayed out of each other’s sightlines, yet they could still catch the faint sounds of the other’s presence.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman stood up, ready to head inside. His hand was on the door handle when he heard a voice that made his skin crawl: \"Grandma, why on earth are you out here in the middle of the night catching a breeze?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"If you young people can have a housewarming party, can't an old lady stay up for a bit?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman glanced toward the source of the noise.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Even though he knew he couldn't see through the floorboards, he narrowed his eyes. A suspicion blossomed in his mind.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">A moment later, he began typing a text: *Whatever it takes, I want the identity of the owner on the 27th floor. As soon as possible.*\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272919108]