The Dominant CEO and the Submissive Me

The imperial castle reared its stately form within the forest's embrace, perched right on the city's periphery. It was a sight to behold, resplendent and magnificent, emanating an irresistibly alluring aura of mystery. The castle's spires, like sentinels reaching for the heavens, soared skyward, their silhouettes etched against the night canvas, presenting an even more forbidding visage that seemed to ward off any intruders. It was sweltering, a heat so intense that it felt as if the very air was stifling, making it an arduous task to draw a proper breath. Upon the capacious English-style bed lay a young maiden, sound asleep. Her lithe and gracefully curved figure was swathed in a sumptuously delicate white gauze. Tiny beads of perspiration, as dense as morning dew, trickled languidly down her exquisitely delicate countenance, their journey ending in a soft plop as they landed upon her slender lips. The sweat that had gathered on her arm had already seeped into the white gauze, conjuring up a tableau of tantalizing allure that fired the imagination. “Um, it’s unbearably hot…” Shi Xiaonian murmured softly, her voice a mere wisp as she roused herself hazily from the depths of slumber. What greeted her eyes was a chamber of opulence, yet one that was utterly unfamiliar. The 14th-century Western oil paintings adorning the walls seemed to sway gently in her somewhat bleary vision. Where on earth was she? Her gaze wandered dazedly around the room. In the far corner, lounging on a sumptuous sectional sofa, was a man. His figure was long and lean, and his fair, tapering fingers toyed gracefully with a wine glass, swirling the crimson liquid within in a hypnotic dance. “Who might you be? Why is it so infernally hot in here? Could you be so kind as to turn off the air conditioner?” The moment the words left her lips, Shi Xiaonian became acutely aware of the weakness in her voice, as if she had just emerged from a long and debilitating illness. The heat was truly oppressive. “Woman, if you don’t awaken posthaste, I’ll crank up the temperature to a blistering 88 degrees and steam you alive like a lobster in a pot!” A voice, deep and resonant, yet laced with arrogance and insolence, sliced through the sweltering air, sending a shiver down her spine. Steam her alive? What in the world did that mean? Shi Xiaonian’s thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. The sweat that dripped into her eyes blurred her vision, obscuring her surroundings. Steady, measured footsteps echoed in her ears, growing closer with each passing second. She raised a trembling hand to wipe the sweat from her delicate collarbone, then, steeling herself, looked up. What she beheld was a pair of eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, boring into her. The man now stood before her bed, his legs long and straight, like pillars of strength. His crisp white shirt clung to his tall and imposing frame, the top two buttons undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his bronzed skin. Above that, was a face that could only be described as a work of art, so strikingly handsome that it stole the breath right out of her lungs. His features were chiseled with precision, thick eyebrows arched over deep-set, smoldering eyes, a straight nose that lent an air of nobility, and slightly parted thin lips that oozed a deadly sensuality. Astonishingly, despite the sauna-like heat in the room, not a single bead of sweat marred his flawless complexion. He was the very picture of elegance and composure, as if he had stepped straight out of a Renaissance painting. He was young, no more than 29 years old, she surmised. Uh, why did he look so oddly familiar? Where had she seen him before… Thanks to her long-established professional habit, Shi Xiaonian was prone to bouts of daydreaming. Caught up in her thoughts, she stared at the man in a trance. But reality came crashing back all too soon as the man whipped out a gleaming silver pistol. And the muzzle, cold and unforgiving, was aimed squarely at her. Huh? What in the name of all that was holy was going on? “What are you doing? Who are you? What do you want from me?” Shi Xiaonian, panic rising in her chest, tried to scramble back on the bed. The man, however, took a purposeful step forward, closing the gap between them, and the icy muzzle of the pistol pressed against her flushed and feverish cheek. She had a face that was the epitome of purity, her features delicate yet understated, possessing a beauty that was soothing to the eye, without a trace of ostentation or aggression. His muzzle, like a phantom finger, slowly traced a path downward, gliding over her lips, her pointed chin, and then her delicate collarbone. It was an act so intimate, so ambiguous, that it made her skin crawl. Shi Xiaonian tensed involuntarily, her body going rigid, and the white gauze on her body threatened to slip off completely. The beads of hot sweat that had been trickling down her back turned icy cold in an instant. “Woman, where is the child you bore for me?” Gong Ou stood before her, his voice a frigid rasp, his dark and brooding gaze raking over the curves that peeked through the translucent white gauze. “What?” Shi Xiaonian was dumbfounded, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Three years ago, you were pregnant with my child. Where is the child now?” Gong Ou enunciated each word with deadly precision, his fair hand moving with a calculated slowness, the muzzle, through the white gauze, tracing lazy circles above her chest. “Child?” Shi Xiaonian was lost, her mind a blank. After what felt like an eternity, she managed to regain a semblance of calm. “I mean… are you sure you’ve got the right person? I don’t know you. I never got pregnant…”