Chapter 7 How Dare You
1087 Words
Dorothy returned to the small apartment her father had left her, the last memento of his life.
The tiny space had remained untouched for the past nine years, just as it was when her father was alive. Dorothy seldom visited because her mother didn't like it, but now things were different.
She had cut ties with the Sunite family and needed a place to stay for a few days.
After a shower, she stepped out, dried her hair, and walked to the balcony for some fresh air.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
'Who could be coming at this hour?' she wondered.
Dorothy approached the door, glancing through the peephole. No one was there.
There were many children in the building, so she figured it might be a prank.
Just as she turned to walk away, the doorbell rang again.
She froze, lips pressed together, a mix of confusion and anxiety in her eyes.
After a moment's hesitation, she leaned against the door and asked, "Who is it?"
"Open the door." Came Vincent's voice.
Dorothy instinctively stepped back. How had he found her?
"Don't make me repeat." Vincent's voice carried a clear note of irritation.
Opening the door meant letting a wolf inside, but her plan wasn't complete yet. She couldn't afford to offend this man.
After a brief internal struggle, she reluctantly opened the door, and Vincent immediately pushed his way in.
Before she could react, he had her pinned against the wall.
He wrapped her tightly in his arms, kicked the door shut, and kissed her hard.
No, this wasn't a kiss—it was more like a bite.
"It hurts..." she whimpered, trying to pull away, her voice trembling as she attempted to reach his reasoning. "Futu—"
"Call me 'brother-in-law' one more time," he warned, his eyes narrowing with a warning gleam, "and I'll make it official. I'll turn you into my mistress, and you can never marry me."
She quickly covered her mouth, fear flashing in her eyes as she looked up at him.
Her rare display of vulnerability seemed to amuse Vincent. He tilted her chin up with a satisfied smile. "Dorothy, you've got some nerve. How dare you trick me!"
She had anticipated that he might be angry, but she hadn't expected him to find her so quickly and confront her in person.
When she didn't respond, Vincent's grip on her chin tightened. The smooth texture of her skin against his fingers made him want to stroke it, and he did, almost absentmindedly.
His voice took on a more amusing tone. "Didn't I tell you that you wouldn't get away tonight? Using onion breath to throw me off—are you trying to back out of our deal?"
She murmured through a smile, "I wasn't trying to get out of anything... I did secure the Francis Memorial Bridge as agreed..."
Vincent lifted her chin higher, forcing her to meet his eyes. Her defiant expression made him both angry and amused.
He realized he should never have had any expectations for this ungrateful woman.
Deciding to stop beating around the bush, he got straight to the point. "Didn't I say that the Francis Bridge means nothing to me? Dorothy, even if you don't admit it, I know you're desperate to marry me. But it's not just to get back at Katherine, is it? I can let you use the title of Mrs. Valentine to do whatever you want. For me, marriage is just a business deal, and my wife could be anyone. But if you can't keep me satisfied, our deal is off."
He roughly tugged open her robe, grabbing her breast with a possessive grip, his voice laced with a threat. "A woman's little tricks can add some spice to a marriage, but if you think you can play me, you'd better think again. Valentine men are hunters, not prey. Got it?"
Dorothy's mind was spinning. For the first time, she regretted getting involved with him.
"Answer me," he demanded, pinching her n*****s hard.
Her body trembled, and she fought back a scream, her eyes darting away before she looked back at him with a flushed face. "Tonight, I don't want to sleep with you."
"Oh?" He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing.
"Yes, I don't want to," she said, her fists clenched. "I'm injured and can't do it."
He sneered, clearly not believing her.
"I'm not lying," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm really hurt."
He scoffed. "You expect me to believe you'd go as far as to hurt yourself just to avoid me?"
"It's not a knife wound," she explained, her voice trembling with embarrassment. "It's because of you."
He stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate.
Dorothy sighed in frustration. Fine, if he wanted her to spell it out.
"Last night... you were too... big!" she stammered, her face burning with shame. "It hurt, and I've been bleeding all day."
Vincent had braced himself for another lie, so her admission caught him off guard. His anger dissipated in an instant. "Did you see a doctor?"
"No," she mumbled, her head hanging even lower.
"Why not?" he pressed.
"I don't want to give Katherine any more ammunition against me," she said quietly, shaking her head. "If a woman with my reputation goes to a gynecologist, who knows what kind of rumors it might start."
Vincent recalled her precarious situation. He hadn't been idle today. Instead, he had his assistant dig into her background.
Thanks to his jealous fiancée, Dorothy's reputation in the city's elite circles was in shambles.
A rare flicker of sympathy softened his heart. Then, he grabbed her wrist and started pulling her toward the door.
She resisted instinctively. "Where are we going?"
Surely, he wasn't taking her to the hospital this late.
"The hospital," he answered curtly.
Well, just as she feared...
"I'm not going," Dorothy blurted out, her face turning as red as a boiled lobster. "I looked it up online. I just need to rest for a few days and keep everything clean. It'll heal on its own."
Vincent's tone was dismissive. "Afraid of getting caught in a lie?"
"I'm not lying!" Dorothy was close to losing her temper. Was he deaf? "I already told you why!"
But he gave her no choice, pulling her out of the room. "Don't worry. If anyone tries to spread rumors, I'll have it changed to a prenatal checkup."
What?
Dorothy's eyes widened in shock. Did he even realize what he was saying?
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