"Abstinent, Overbearing CEO"

The suite in the hotel was dim, the heavy curtains blocking out all light. A floor lamp in the corner cast a warm, ambiguous glow. The woman curled beneath the man, her eyes brimming with tears. She trembled, like a pitiful little cat soaked by the rain. "Mr. Desmond... I'm sorry. Please, can you let me go?" Rosalina's voice quivered with a sob, her words muffled by her own fear. The more she cried, the more it stirred the man's inner desires. Desmond lazily brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "It's too late," he murmured indifferently. With a brutal force, he tore her clothes apart, ripped off his tie, and bound her delicate wrists. His scorching kisses fell like a storm, merciless and overwhelming. Rosalina felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her lower body, as if her very soul had been pierced, and then… she closed her eyes in a daze, the feeling of hopelessness taking over her. The next morning, Rosalina was woken by the sunlight streaming through the small gaps in the curtains. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. She struggled to rise from the bed, but every movement made her body ache as if it would fall apart. Slowly, she dressed herself, only to notice that the buttons of her shirt were nearly all ripped off. Her pale skin, once smooth and flawless, was now marred by bruises—deep red and purple marks that made her chest look almost grotesque. Just as she stood there, the sound of water stopped. Desmond emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. His short hair dripped water, trickling down to his sharp jawline and onto his toned abdomen. With a white, elegant hand, he casually operated his phone, and within moments, Rosalina’s phone buzzed with a bank notification. “One million for you. Buy the pill, or go for an abortion—your choice.” "Thank you, Mr. Desmond," she replied coldly, hiding her phone as she hastily covered herself with her coat, concealing the exposed shirt beneath. Outwardly calm, but inwardly crumbling, Rosalina couldn’t help but wonder, What have you done, Rosalina? "What's on the agenda for today?" Desmond’s voice was cold, unbothered by the tension in the room. "Mr. Desmond, there's a 9:30 AM meeting with the Finance Director, followed by a 12:00 PM lunch with the Joshua Consulate from the Embassy. In the afternoon, there’s a 3:00 PM video conference with the UK branch, and in the evening, your father and mother invited you for dinner, but Mr. Han and Mr. Luo are also expecting you. You haven’t made your decision yet." Desmond nodded indifferently. "Be here at 9:00 AM sharp. I want…" "I know, a 60-degree hot Americano with Yuyuan's Guixia coffee beans," Rosalina replied, her voice professional, the tone of a secretary back in her routine. "Then I’ll leave now, Mr. Desmond," she added, giving a slight bow before exiting. Desmond’s gaze lingered on her slender waist and her long, pale legs, before resting on a faint red mark on the sheets. His thoughts wandered, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. Back in her apartment, Rosalina shed her clothes and stepped into the bathroom, letting the hot water wash over her body. She scrubbed herself fiercely with the towel, tears mixing with the water, until she couldn’t tell if it was the shower or her sorrow staining her face. Afterward, she checked the time—almost 8:00 AM. There was no time left for tears. She dried her hair and sat at the vanity, beginning her makeup routine. The apartment was one she had purchased just last year. After her parents passed away in a car accident when she was eleven, she was left with a significant inheritance. But rather than spending it, she had used the savings from her two years working at Desmond’s company to pay the down payment on this place. After graduating from the top university in the country, Rosalina had secured a job at Desmond’s company with impressive grades and a flawless resume. Within a year, she had gone from being a regular administrative staff member to becoming Desmond’s personal secretary. Desmond was a god-like figure in the business world of the capital. Handsome, cold, and unapproachable, his ruthless business tactics made other companies shudder at the thought of him. Yet, at nearly thirty, he had no interest in women. Countless women had tried to get into his bed, only to be thrown out, some even naked, left crying in the hotel hallway. So how had Rosalina, of all people, become his secretary? Not because of her looks, but because of her boldness? In truth, she didn’t even know why herself. One day in the company’s underground parking lot, she had simply walked up to him without thinking, when she saw Desmond waiting for his driver. "Mr. Desmond, hello. I’m Rosalina from the administration department." Desmond had barely glanced at her before turning away with obvious disgust, as if he had just seen garbage. "I’d like to be your personal secretary." Without speaking, he had already turned to leave. But Rosalina had been resolute. "Please, Mr. Desmond, give me one month as a trial. If I fail, I’ll leave immediately." Desmond’s car had arrived at that moment, and without a second look, he had gotten in. Rosalina thought it was all over, but the very next day, she was assigned to be his personal secretary. Over the following month, Rosalina threw herself into her job. She learned to remember his schedule by heart, and she meticulously observed his habits. After he’d thrown something in a fit of rage, she’d patiently tidied his office. She blocked anyone he didn’t want to see, and smiled graciously when his friends teased her. Desmond had clearly come to see her as a competent secretary and didn’t move to transfer her. But as time passed, Rosalina’s chest tightened with regret. It was her fault—blinded by a desire for petty revenge, she had planned to seduce Desmond. She knew Desmond didn’t like anyone touching him, yet she found herself standing ever closer to him. She’d accidentally brushed his hand, adjusted his tie, or wiped coffee off his lips. "Rosalina, are you sure you don’t want to lose that hand?" he had said once, voice sharp. "No, Mr. Desmond. You wouldn’t want me to, would you?" she had smiled sweetly in response. With no experience in romance, Rosalina tried to play the role of a master in the art of seduction. I only want to see the pain in their eyes. That’s all. But she was naive. In seeking this small act of revenge, she had provoked the most terrifying man in the capital. As she finished her light makeup, Rosalina studied her reflection in the mirror. Her small, delicate face, cherry-red lips, and large, expressive eyes were striking. She knew she wasn’t unattractive. But it had been this same face that, in high school, had made the boy she liked mock her. "She’s so plain, who would want her?" Rosalina sighed. Her phone buzzed again, a new message flashing across the screen: "Rosalina, are you coming home for dinner tonight? I asked Wang to cook your favorite dishes." Home? What home did she have left? She set her phone down, changed her clothes, grabbed her bag, and left for the office. On the way, she stopped by the pharmacy to buy a box of the morning-after pill.