"Damn, Damian, you're losing your touch!"

Damian Spencer rolled his eyes. "You’re really mocking me? Forget the hell you were living through before you met her?"

He shot back, "I've finally cleared the clouds to see the sun, my friend. As for you, well—it's still a long road ahead."

With a smug grin, Marcellus Alexander tucked Evangeline Montgomery against his side and began to walk away.

"Marcellus, you absolute dog!" Damian roared at their retreating backs.

Evangeline looked up at him, arching a brow. "Marcellus, is Damian serious about... her?"

"He’s not a man who trifles with people. If he’s acting like this, he’s actually fallen for her."

Evangeline exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. "That’s a relief."

"Evangeline," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave as he pulled her closer. "Can you stop worrying about other people? How long has it been since you actually paid attention to me?"

Seeing the wounded look in his eyes, she couldn't help but chuckle. "Why are you acting like a scorned lover?"

"And what are you? A heartless player who refuses to go home to her man?"

Evangeline smirked, mirroring his cocky expression. "That’s just how we men are, darling. Try to be more understanding!"

"Careful, Evangeline. I think you're itching for a lesson."

The predatory glint in his eyes made the hair on her arms stand up.

"Hey? What’s with that look? You look like you're about to devour me."

Marcellus curled his lip into a dangerous, lopsided smile. "You’ll find out soon enough."

Without another word, he hoisted her over his shoulder and shoved her into the car. Before she could even straighten her skirt, he leaned in, trapping her against the seat with his heavy frame.

Up front, Wylder Shaw discreetly raised the partition, giving his boss and the woman he adored a bubble of total privacy.

"Evangeline, you’re like a runaway pet. I let you out of my sight for five minutes and you stop answering my calls."

"What?" She blinked, feigning innocence.

"Whenever I let you go, you disappear."

"It’s... it’s called being busy!"

"Is that a page from the 'How to be a Heartless Player' handbook?"

"I’m serious!"

"Oh really? Serious enough to find time to hire a male masseur?"

Evangeline leaned in, pecking his lips in a desperate attempt to appease the beast. "Can we please move past that?"

Marcellus acted the part of the offended king, his chin held high. "Only if you go home and make it up to me properly."

"How do you want me to make it up to you, Marcellus?" She traced small, burning circles over his chest, her eyes teasing.

"Evangeline!"

His voice was a jagged rasp of forced restraint. She didn't back down; she leaned in closer, goading him. "I'm right here."

Marcellus snapped. He grabbed her wandering hand, pinning it to the seat, and crashed his lips onto hers in a savage, possessive kiss. It was a punishment, a claim, a storm of heat that left her breathless and dizzy.

She clung to his lapels, her body turning to jelly, until she couldn't take it anymore and nipped his lower lip. He pulled back, a drop of blood beading on his skin. His eyes were dark, manic, and hungry enough to consume her whole.

Evangeline shivered. She knew her waist wasn't going to survive the night.

Marcellus pulled her against his chest, his voice a gravelly warning. "Stop playing with fire."

She didn't need to be told twice. She stayed deathly still. A man deprived of what he wants is a dangerous thing.

When the car finally pulled up to the Elysian Estate, Evangeline scrambled out and bolted for the front door like a track star. The sight of her awkward, desperate sprint made Marcellus let out a low, dark laugh.

"Ma'am, are you—" Helen, the head housekeeper, started, but Evangeline flew past her like a blur.

"Sir, what’s gotten into her?"

"She’s running from her punishment," Marcellus replied, his eyes following her retreating form with amusement.

"Oh," Helen said, realization dawning on her. She giggled and retreated to her room, leaving them to it.

*Thump, thump, thump.*

"Evangeline! Open the door!"

"No!"

Marcellus gritted his teeth. "Evangeline Montgomery, if I have to get the spare key, you are going to be in so much trouble!"

Inside, her heart was hammering against her ribs. This was the Elysian Estate—there was nowhere left to run. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a breath to summon her courage, and shuffled toward the door.

"One."

The ultimatum rang out from the hallway. Evangeline stomped her foot in panic. "Ugh!"

"Two."

"Three!"

The door swung open just in time. She scurried backward, her eyes wide. "Ma-Marcellus, let's be reasonable!"

"Afraid now?"

He stalked toward her like a wolf toying with its prey. When she backed herself into the edge of the bed and tumbled backward, he didn't rush. He let her scramble away, then reached out and dragged her back by the ankles.

"Where are you running, little fox?"

His fingers danced over his own shirt buttons, peeling them open to reveal his chest. Evangeline watched, a traitorous lump forming in her throat.

He let out a low, mocking laugh.

She cursed herself for being so weak to his charms. Defeated, she gave up the struggle and sprawled out on the bed, lying flat in a display of total surrender.

"There. That’s a good girl."

The wolf finally dove in for his dinner.

The next morning, the woman under the duvet groaned as she stirred. Every muscle in her body screamed; she felt like she’d been put through a meat grinder by a dozen heavyweights.

As Marcellus walked out of the bathroom, he heard her muffled complaints. A smirk played on his lips. He walked over to the bed and began to massage her aching back with large, practiced hands.

"Hmph! Don't think a little massage makes up for it!" she snapped, still nursing the memory of her useless pleas from the night before.

"I’m making amends as we speak, aren’t I?"

She turned her face away, ignoring him. He didn't stop, working the knots out of her shoulders with patient, rhythmic pressure.

An hour later, the ache began to dull. She tried sitting up, and to her surprise, she felt significantly better.

"That’s enough. You can stop now."

"So, what do you think of my technique, Ms. Montgomery?"

"Are you still talking about that?" She glared at him, her face flushing with indignation.

"Alright, alright. I'll drop it."

With a final, scathing look, she marched off to get ready.

Downstairs, Helen was waiting. "Breakfast is ready, sir, ma'am."

"Coming!"

Evangeline downed her milk, grabbed a sandwich, and headed for the door, only to realize she hadn't driven herself. "Can someone drive me to the office?"

"I’ll take you."

"You’re going to be late, and it’s not on your way. Just have Oliver drop me off."

Marcellus didn't even blink. "Who exactly is going to dock my pay?"

She rolled her eyes. Billionaire logic.

He ate his breakfast with maddening slowness before finally heading out.

Back at the C&R Atelier, Remi Crawford was waiting with a look of pure, unadulterated curiosity.

"Evangeline... so, how was last night?"

"Remi, darling, stop trying to turn this into a late-night talk show!"

"Heh... fair enough! I already know anyway."

They were laughing when her phone buzzed.

"Hello?"

"I see. Thank you so much."

Evangeline squealed and tackled Remi in a hug. "Remi! The 'Feather of Love' collection—I made the top ten!"

"I knew you could do it!"

They spun around the room in a fit of excitement before she pulled herself together. "Okay, focus! I have to start on the design drafts for the top three stage!"

The rules of the competition were grueling: the initial round selected ten entries, then the organizers set a theme. Designers had to submit a piece based on that theme, from which the final three would be chosen. The finals were a free-for-all, with the ultimate winner decided by the combined scores of all three designs.

Evangeline already had her final piece mapped out; now, she just had to survive the theme-based design round.