HER INNOCENCE

4🪶 UNDER HIS CHARM

The guards had just treated Sarah poorly, but now they turned pale and saluted stiffly.

"Mr. Solomon, We apologize, sir. This girl was causing a scene and.." the head guard stammered, his voice trembling.

Sarah’s heart stopped. "Solomon?""



She looked up into the severe, mesmerizing eyes of the man holding her. This wasn't a stranger. This was the man who had bought her.

"What is the problem with this petite nurse student girl?" Mr. Solomon asked, his deep voice slicing through the lobby's noise like a blade. His fingers remained firmly anchored to her waist, his gaze dropping to the silver nursing college pin glinting on her soaked jacket.

The lady guard dropped her head, her face flushing with immediate panic. "Sir, she doesn't have a VIP card. She was trying to force her way into the high-stakes lounge, claiming her father is inside."

Mr. Solomon’s severe eyes moved back to Sarah, tracking the subtle tremor in her jaw and the dark bruise beginning to bloom on her cheek.

"She’s with me. Open the doors" he said smoothly. He released her waist, giving the guards a single, dismissive glance that sent them scrambling backward.

He didn't wait for her to thank him. He simply strode forward, the heavy velvet ropes parting before him as if by magic.

Driven by pure desperation to find her father, Sarah practically ran to keep pace with his long, imposing strides.

As they stepped across the threshold, the sheer scale of the underground casino floor amazed Sarah. As if, it was full of silver and gold, surrounded by the players. Her eyes widened in pure astonishment. The ceiling was a dome of cascading crystal chandeliers, reflecting off golden pillars and deep velvet walls.

Here, the wealthy elite played an entirely different game. Millions of dollars in glittering, high-value chips changed hands with the casual toss of a wrist. Waitresses in silk uniforms glided past carrying crystal flutes of champagne, while men in bespoke tuxedos laughed over losses that could have funded the metropolitan hospital's charity ward for a decade.

It was sickening. It was beautiful. And somewhere in this place, was the man who had traded her away.

Sarah immediately broke away from Mr. Solomon's side, her frantic gaze sweeping over the baccarat tables and the private blackjack enclaves. She pushed past tech tycoons and heiresses, her heart beat increased, desperate to think where her father is.

"Where was he?" She scanned every face, searching for Arthur’s thick, blunt fingers and his cold grey eyes.

But she failed. The lounge was a labyrinth of private alcoves and VIP screens. Arthur was gone, swallowed up by the exclusive backrooms where the real damage was done.

Panic blinding her vision, Sarah spun around to retrace her steps, her flat white shoes slipping slightly on the plush carpet.

Thud.

For the second time that night, she bounced hard against a broad chest on him.

Mr. Solomon stood there, his wool coat draped over one arm, his expression completely altered. The brief flash of curiosity he had shown in the lobby was entirely gone, replaced by a dark, dangerous irritation. He looked down at her with a scowl that could freeze water.

"Twice in ten minutes is no longer an accident. You don't have a VIP card. You have no business here. And yet, you find yourself exactly where I am standing," he murmured.

He stepped into her personal space, pinning her against the edge of a high-stakes roulette table.

Sarah’s breath hitched, her hands pressing against his chest to keep some distance between them.

"No, I.. I was looking for... "

"Save it," he interrupted coldly, his jaw tightening as he looked down at her damp, disheveled appearance.

"I gave you a pass out of curiosity, but I don't tolerate games. Specially for an ambitious student trying to secure a wealthy benefactor, you have chosen the wrong target. Get out of my sight before I have my security to throw you out!"

He turned on his heel, his sharp movements leaving her standing in silence with no words at all, entirely unaware that the "student" he was dismissing was the very merchandise he had purchased for his own.

Sarah swallowed the bitter lump of pride burning in her throat. The sting on her cheek from her father’s hand throbbed in tandem with her racing pulse. She looked up at Mr. Solomon, realizing that if she walked out into the exit, she would lose everything, and her mother would pay the price.

"I’m sorry," Sarah whispered, her voice trembling but clear enough to cut through the low hum of the roulette wheels.

She forced herself to stand on her ground, looking directly into his piercing, serious eyes.

Then she said, "Please forgive me Sir... I’m not after you.., and I’m not looking for a handsome man. I was desperate to find someone, and I lost my footing. I am deeply thankful that you helped me out there. Truly."

Mr. Solomon didn't answer right away. His severe, handsome face remained an unreadable mask of stone. He didn't offer a polite acceptance, nor did he repeat his threat to throw her out. Instead, his dark eyes slowly tracked the faint, purple-red swelling blooming along her jawline, a mark that no amount of rainwater could wash away.

A heavy, tense silence stretched between them, thick enough to make the nearby dealers look over in curiosity.

"Follow me," he said abruptly.

"Whoa.. what? Where are we going?" Sarah asked. But he did not answer.

Mr. Solomon turned and strode toward a private, gold-rimmed elevator guarded by two heavily armed security men.

Intimidated but possessing no other choice, Sarah hurried after him. The elevator glided silently upward, bypassing the hotel floors until it chimed softly, opening directly into a wide, secluded penthouse suite. The private room was a master class in dark luxury, obsidian marble floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the view of the city.

Mr. Solomon walked inside, tossing his heavy wool coat onto a sleek armchair. He poured two fingers level of dark wine into a clear serving glass.

"Sit," he commanded, gesturing toward the velvet sofa near the fire. He finally turned to face her, his gaze locking onto her shivering form.

"So here you go, petite nurse. Now, tell me the truth. Who exactly were you looking for downstairs?" Mr. Solomon asked. But this time, he noticed again some bruises on her skin.

Mr. Solomon put down the glass on the table with a soft, deliberate clink. He didn’t offer Sarah the strong wine, instead, he stepped over to a sleek console, retrieving a pristine bottle of mineral water and a clean glass, sliding them toward her as she hesitantly took a seat on the edge of the velvet sofa.

"Drink," he said, his deep voice sliding through the crackle of the fireplace.

Sarah for now, was completely unaware that she was the bride he had just bought.