Spoiled by the Tycoon's Love

Aira Manson never thought she'd make the same mistake twice—sleeping with a stranger. But this man was definitely worth it. After downing an entire bottle of Soraya Red, the world felt like it was spinning, except for the man in front of her, who remained sharply in focus. His scent was intoxicating, a cool mix of black cedar that cut through the unbearable heat. Following her instincts, she hooked her finger around his tie, pulling him closer. His lashes were thick, his nose perfectly sculpted, and his gray-blue eyes were like a foggy lake, inviting her to dive in. 'Definitely my type,' Aira thought, flashing a satisfied smile. She reached out to touch his face but lost her balance, falling into his arms. The man didn't move, neither helping her nor pulling away, allowing her arms to hang around his neck as she tried to steady herself. "Such a novice," Aira mumbled, pouting. She tugged on his tie again, guiding his hand to wrap around her waist. As she felt the warmth of his palm against her skin, she contentedly pressed her face against his chest. "You'd better know what you're doing," the man's voice was deep and magnetic, with a hoarse undertone that was more seductive than off-putting, carrying a hint of danger that only added to its appeal. Aira leaned into his chest, tilting her head slightly as she ran her fingers across his Adam's apple. "Your voice is amazing, I like it." Her fingertips were soft, like a feather brushing against him, making him shiver as if electrified. He grasped her hand, looking down at her dazed eyes, her tender skin, and her cherry-red lips. "You'll enjoy more of it later," he said, leaning in to kiss her, only to be stopped by her finger. "My ears are sensitive," Aira murmured, sweeping back her hair to reveal a delicate, petite ear. The man smirked; it wasn't often someone dared to give him orders. He lowered his head, his warm breath caressing her ear, sending a shiver down her spine even before his lips made contact. Feeling her tremble in his arms sparked a strange satisfaction in him. He began to anticipate her reactions more and more. Aira heard him let out a chuckle. The next second, she felt his lips on her ear. Her whole body went weak, her head falling back as she sank into the sensation. The man lifted Aira onto the bar counter, his kisses trailing down from her neck to her collarbone, igniting every inch of her body. Being pleased like this felt divine, and Aira sighed in contentment before lifting his chin and squinted her eyes. "Kiss me." "As you wish," he replied, a sly smile playing on his lips as he leaned in to capture hers. The next morning, Aira woke with a pounding headache. She propped herself up in bed, the sheets slipping down to reveal her body covered in suggestive red marks. There was no doubt about the wild night she had. "Awake?" A deep voice sounded beside her. She turned her head to see the man standing by the window, buttoning his shirt. His well-defined back muscles were barely visible, along with some clear scratch marks. 'Did I do that?' Aira thought. She frowned, rubbing her temples. Last night, she had carefully planned a surprise for her fiancé on their three-year anniversary, only to catch him cheating with her half-sister, Alice. How ridiculous! 'More like my ex-fiancé,' Aira mentally noted. 'I've already dumped that jerk.' The thought of those two soaking wet after she doused them with a bottle of Dom Pérignon made her laugh. The price of a bottle wasn't too high for such a satisfying outcome. As for the man in front of her, he was probably a service she ordered while drunk. She stared at him, trying to recall everything that had happened the night before. She wasn't entirely sure of his background, but the lingering memories suggested that he had pleased her far better than any toy ever had. Aira pulled out her wallet and asked, "How much?" "You're paying me?" The man looked at her, surprised. Usually, women clung to him, asking for money, not the other way around. This was a first. "You can't afford it," he said, lowering his gaze as he fastened his Patek Philippe watch. Aira noticed the watch, thinking to herself that this line of work must pay well, when her phone suddenly rang. "Hello, Aira speaking. What? How did that happen? Okay, I'll figure something out." Aira hung up, quickly getting dressed. The man, noticing her change, asked with concern, "Need any help?" Only God knew why he even asked that; it felt strange coming from his mouth. "No need." Aira fixed her hair, pulled out two hundred dollars, and placed it on the nightstand. The man noticed the ring on her left hand and frowned. "You're engaged?" Aira glanced at the bright ring on her hand, then casually removed it and tossed it into the trash like it was nothing. "Not anymore," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading for the door without looking back. It was just a one-night stand, after all. She could deal with her own matters without asking for help from a stranger. The man leaned against the window, adjusting his tie, his gaze following Aira as she left. "Interesting." His phone rang. It was his assistant, Garcia Berns. "Sorry, Mr. Graham, I gave you the wrong room number last night..." But Benjamin Graham didn't seem to mind. He sat by the window, lighting a cigarette, watching Aira as she hurried into a cab. "I need you to investigate someone," he said with a smile. "Yes, sir. Who is it?" "Aira Manson," he said, exhaling smoke as he watched her cab disappear down the street.