Tamed by the Business Tycoon

The first time Olivia Bennett saw him was at the gate of the Black family mansion. She followed Ava Black into the house, both of them about to change into slippers when Ava suddenly let out a surprised little gasp. Olivia looked up, following her friend’s gaze, and noticed a pair of brown handmade suede shoes neatly placed by the door. Moments later, footsteps echoed softly down the staircase. A tall man appeared, his presence instantly commanding. Ava, caught off guard, quickly bent down to grab her backpack and greeted him with an awkward smile. “Uncle Ethan, you’re home!” Ethan Black had returned early from a business trip. After arranging a last–minute meeting at Sinclair Ltd, he realized he had left an important document here at the mansion and stopped by to pick it up. Seeing his niece standing in the foyer, he raised his wrist and glanced at his watch. “Out of school early today?” “It’s Friday,” Ava explained brightly. “We did the big cleanup, so the teacher let us go.” “No driver today?” he asked. As he spoke, his eyes shifted toward the quiet figure standing near the doorway. He wore a smoke–gray shirt with the top two buttons undone, the relaxed look doing nothing to soften the sense of restrained power that clung to him. His build was tall and straight, his posture calm yet commanding. Even the faintest sweep of his gaze held weight, quiet but unyielding, as though daring anyone near to misstep. Olivia felt it when his eyes brushed over her—cool, unhurried, but impossible to ignore. “I came back with Olivia,” Ava said quickly, moving to introduce her friend. “Uncle Ethan, this is my classmate, Olivia Bennett—from the next class over.” Ethan gave a brief nod, said nothing more, and reached for the suit jacket draped over the sofa. “Uncle Ethan, you’re not staying for dinner?” Ava asked hopefully. He shook his head. “There’s still work at the company.” Ava pouted, stepping aside with a grin. “Then drive safe, Uncle.” He changed into his leather shoes, ready to leave. Just before turning away, his gaze landed once more—this time on the quiet girl beside his niece. Olivia stood there with her hands clasped loosely in front of her, her dark hair tied into a ponytail that revealed a smooth forehead and delicate features. A few strands brushed the side of her cheek, softening the calm line of her expression. The blue–and–white summer uniform she wore might have looked childish on anyone else, yet on her it only accentuated a certain purity and soft allure. His phone rang, cutting the moment short. He checked the screen and spoke in a deep, steady tone that carried through the foyer. “Do your homework properly. Don’t spend all night on the computer.” Ava nodded furiously, smiling in relief. When the sound of the car faded outside, she flopped down on the rug, patting the spot beside her for Olivia to sit. “Mrs. Emma!” she called toward the kitchen. “Could you make us two banana milkshakes?” Olivia sat, tucking her skirt neatly under her knees. “You seem afraid of your uncle.” Ava groaned, puffing out her cheeks. “You have no idea. He’s the scariest person in this house.” “He hits you?” “What? No!” Ava shook her head quickly. “He’s just… serious. Never smiles much. Probably has to keep that poker face to survive at work at Sinclair Ltd. How else would he manage everyone?” Mrs. Emma soon arrived with two cold glasses of milkshake. “Thank you,” Olivia said politely as she took one. The housekeeper hesitated, her eyes lingering on Olivia for a second. Noticing the stare, Olivia looked up and met her gaze with a gentle smile. Startled, the woman smiled back awkwardly, turning to Ava. “Your friend is beautiful.” “Right?” Ava looped an arm around her shoulders, beaming. “Olivia’s basically the goddess of Billyston. The boys there would chase her around the whole campus if they could.” Olivia lowered her lashes, the corners of her lips curving faintly. She had always known how her face could change things—or maybe she’d learned it the day Sophia Hayes spat at her that she looked “more and more like that shameless mother of yours.” That night, after nine, Olivia returned to the Bennett family villa. The moment she stepped inside, a sharp c***k sounded, pain blooming across her left cheek before she could even react. “Why are you hitting her?” James Bennett’s voice echoed coldly. “Hitting her?” Sophia Hayes laughed bitterly. “You treat that niece of yours like a treasure, but she doesn’t see you that way. I worked my connections to arrange that meeting with CEO King—his wife’s dead, his son’s abroad, and every woman in Empire City would give anything to be in her position. And what does she do? She offends him! If he hadn’t called to say she never showed up, we’d still be fooled by her!” The side of Olivia’s face burned scarlet against her pale skin. She raised her head and met Sophia’s glare without flinching. “Aunt Sophia, you didn’t tell me it was a blind date. And even if it was, some people just don’t click. You can’t expect a single dinner to end in marriage.” “James, do you hear her?” Sophia snapped. “That’s how she talks after all we’ve done for her!” “Enough,” he warned, his voice sharp. “You agreed to that dinner too!” she shouted back. “CEO King’s a perfect match, and she acts like she’s too good for him! If people find out about her background, who would still want her? She should be grateful!” Olivia tilted her head slightly, her expression calm. “Too bad my cousin’s already married. Otherwise, Aunt Sophia, I’m sure you’d love to treat CEO King as your son.” “You—” Sophia trembled with rage. “Like mother, like daughter. Your mother cheated on her husband and had you out of wedlock, then ran off to marry another man. You’re cut from the same rotten cloth!” The sound of another slap cut her off—this time, James’s hand. “You hit me?” she gasped, her face red. James’s jaw tensed. “Go upstairs, Olivia.” Her cheek still burned, but she managed a faint smile. “Goodnight, Uncle. Aunt.” Then she turned and walked upstairs without another word. In her room, Olivia dropped her bag onto the bed and reached for the water bottle on the vanity, taking several long gulps to quiet her hunger. She hadn’t eaten at the Blacks’. When Mrs. Emma began setting the dinner table, Olivia had used the excuse of having something else to do and left early, wandering aimlessly for hours before coming home. Downstairs, the sound of angry voices rose again—her aunt and uncle, arguing as always. She ignored it, going instead to her wardrobe. From the bottom drawer, she pulled out a small tin box and opened it carefully. Inside, buried under papers and odds and ends, was an entertainment magazine. Flipping to the folded page, she found what she was looking for: a two–page spread. The photo was grainy but clear enough—a man and a woman standing beside a sleek black car. The woman, tall and elegant, wore sunglasses and a mask. The man, in a fitted black suit and white shirt, faced away from the camera. Even blurred, his figure radiated power; his straight posture and the tilt of his head carried the unmistakable presence of authority. Across the image, bold red letters declared: ACTRESS ISABELLA WARD CAUGHT MEETING SINCLAIR CEO ETHAN BLACK. A soft knock on the door startled her. She quickly closed the magazine, hid it back in the drawer, and turned as James entered. He paused at the sight of her bruised cheek, his expression immediately softening. “I talked to your aunt,” he said quietly. “CEO King called again this evening. He says he likes you and hopes to discuss marriage soon. Of course, if you don’t want to, I won’t force you. It’s just… hard to find stability these days, and I don’t want you to suffer later.” Olivia stared down at the bottle cap in her hand, turning it slowly between her fingers. The Bennetts had once been wealthy. Her grandfather built his business in the clothing industry, earning the family their place among Empire City’s middle–class elites. But the last few years had brought decline—factories closed, debts mounted, and soon even the house might have to be mortgaged. Sophia saw in CEO King an escape—a solution. And Olivia, the orphaned niece, was the easiest sacrifice. James sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows propped on his knees. “The hospital called,” he continued after a pause. “I sent fifty thousand over. It should cover your grandmother’s bills for the next couple of months.” Her fingers tightened until the ridges of the cap dug painfully into her palm. The silence that followed pressed heavily between them. After what felt like a long time, she said softly, “Uncle, could you give me more time to think about it?” He nodded, a hint of relief flickering in his tired eyes. “Rest early,” he told her as he rose and left, closing the door behind him. Once he was gone, Olivia stood before the mirror by the wardrobe. Her reflection looked back at her—smooth skin, finely shaped brows, a small, elegant nose, and soft lips the color of pale rose. Barely twenty, and yet her beauty already felt like both armor and curse. Her mind drifted back to CEO King: short, balding, with a heavy belly and spotted hands. She still remembered the way he had looked at her that day, his eyes crawling over her like he was consuming her with nothing but his gaze. She turned to her phone. The browser was still open from earlier. In the search bar glowed the name: “Ethan Black.” There was little information online—just the minimalist corporate profile describing him as the current CEO of Sinclair Ltd. No clear photos, no interviews. Only that one blurred image beside Isabella Ward. She was about to close the page when a link below caught her eye. It was an advertisement, the title shining in gold: “Royal Living, Rosewood Manor.” Beneath it was a 3D rendering of a grand, luminous estate, every detail radiating extravagance and perfection. Value: ten billion. Rosewood Manor—one of Sinclair’s newest real estate investments of the year.