Patrick Jenkins gambled me away to his twin brother.

I pretended not to know and spent a wild night with the wrong man.

The next morning, I blushed as I asked Patrick to buy me some ointment.

He furrowed his brow slightly and asked coldly, "What's wrong?"

I mumbled, "You were so rough last night that you left me sore."

He froze for a second.

I stepped closer, wrapped my arms around him, and leaned in sweetly. "I really liked how different you were last night."

——

"I fold. Michelle Perez is yours tonight."

Patrick loosened his tie and leaned back on the couch, looking relaxed and careless.

Across from him, Edward sat with half his face hidden in shadow.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was low.

Patrick chuckled. "You barely notice women. If you're into her, she's yours."

Edward didn't respond, so Patrick continued, "But she's been with me for a year. If you think she's not worth it—"

Edward suddenly stood and grabbed his jacket without a second thought. "No need. She'll do."

Patrick appeared briefly speechless.

Then, he gave a flippant laugh. "Alright then. Enjoy yourself tonight, Edward."

Edward adjusted his glasses, nodded slightly, and walked straight out of the room.

The moment Edward left, the room buzzed to life.

"Are you serious, Patrick? You chased Michelle for three whole months, bending over backward for her. It's not even a year in, and you're already bored?"

Patrick picked up his glass. "A bet's a bet. Besides, it's just a woman."

The man asked, "I thought Michelle meant something special to you."

Patrick took a sip, smiling lazily.

"She did, at first. She was prim and proper—hard to win over. But now? She's no different from the rest. She comes crawling to me like a damn dog."

"Hey, Patrick, do you mind letting me have a turn next time?"

Patrick's face went cold as he slammed the glass down.

The man who spoke shut up fast.

Someone else chimed in, "But seriously, what if Edward really sleeps with her?"

"He won't," Patrick said flatly.

"Edward's not into women. He's got a serious obsession with cleanliness."

"How can you be so sure? Last time Michelle wore that dress that exposed her leg, he stared a few times."

Patrick gave a cold laugh. "He just hates women who try too hard."

"How about a bet, Patrick?"

He scoffed. "Don't forget that Michelle's head over heels for me. She would rather die than let another man touch her. If you guys really want to gamble, don't come crying when you lose everything."

He stood and walked out.

A young, pretty woman was already waiting outside.

The moment she saw him, she giggled and threw herself into his arms.

Overcome by the rush of alcohol, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her fiercely.

I leaned quietly against the door, slowly turning around.

Alcohol always made me sleep deeply.

That was probably why Patrick didn't bother lowering his voice.

It was funny how things worked.

This time, a nightmare startled me awake.

And just like that, I heard everything.

At that moment, my fairy tale ended for good.

I didn't barge in. I didn't cry, scream, or throw a fit.

If he could gamble me away to another man without blinking, I clearly meant nothing to him.

If I caused a scene and embarrassed a privileged and influential person like him, he would crush me like an insect without a second thought.

I numbly walked back to bed and lay down again.

I pulled the blanket over myself, but I still couldn't stop shivering.

Then, I heard the door open.

Footsteps approached the bed.

And with them came a faint, cool scent of pinewood.

I felt strange. It was nothing like Patrick's usual cologne.

I clenched my fists under the blanket and kept my eyes shut.

The covers were gently pulled back.

Then, I felt myself being lifted into strong, steady arms.

"Michelle, you can sleep when we're home."

The voice was deeper than Patrick's. It was smooth, almost hypnotic.

I acted like I didn't know anything.

I opened my eyes and wrapped my arms around him, pouting. "Patrick, what took you so long?"

He stiffened for a moment.

When he spoke again, his voice was even lower.

"Have you been waiting long?"

"Mm... My head really hurts."

He said, "I'll make you some hangover soup later."

He carried me out with strong, steady steps.

I buried my face in his chest, breathing in that clean, woodsy scent.

Then, I said, "You smell good tonight."

"Do I?" he asked.

"Yeah... better than before."

"Do you like it?"

"I do."

He paused mid-step.

The long hallway was dimly lit, its shadows stretching far into the quiet. There was not a soul in sight.

He suddenly leaned down and brushed the softest kiss across the corner of my lips.

"I'm glad you do."

Two days ago was the first time I met Edward.

It was also the day I learned that Patrick had a twin brother.

Edward had been living abroad for years and rarely came back.

Patrick seemed a little afraid of him, since he never brought Edward up.

That night, Edward barely looked at me.

In fact, he only said one thing to me the entire evening.

"Ms. Perez, you have a beautiful name."

I had no idea why he agreed to such a ridiculous bet tonight.

But somehow, deep down, I knew that if I wanted to make it out of this twisted, upper-class game unscathed, Edward might be my only way out.

From the moment I first saw him, I felt that he and Patrick were nothing alike.

The moment I stepped out of the bathroom, Edward slipped his arms around my waist from behind.

As he lowered his head to kiss me, I couldn't help but laugh. "You're in a rush tonight, Patrick."

His lips paused against mine. "Can you call me something else?"

"What do you want me to call you, then?"

"Do you remember what you usually call me?"

"I used to call your name, 'Mr. Jenkins,' and 'darling' too..."

The kiss, once still, grew heated again. "Call me 'honey.' You've never done that before."

"Honey?"

I blinked up at him, startled.

But in the very next moment, a searing, possessive kiss consumed me completely.

Edward pinned me to the bed.

The room was dim, lit only by a soft nightlight.

I reached up to touch his face.

He tilted his head slightly, letting my fingers graze his features.

As my fingertips slipped down, his robe lay in a crumpled heap by the bed, tangled with my pale-rose nightgown.

He leaned in, his strong hands gripping my waist.

"Michelle."

"Hm?"

I looked up, dazed, just in time to see his Adam's apple bob hard.

A second later, he thrust in deep.

I let out a soft cry, eyes filling with tears.

But before they could fall, his scorching lips caught them.

"Say it again."

"Pat—"

The next movement was so forceful, it shattered my words.

I couldn't help but look at him, hurt and teary-eyed, as another tear rolled down my cheek.

"Did you forget how to say it?"

He looked down at me, voice low and commanding.

"Honey."

I whimpered, fingers digging into his solid arms.

The next second, the world spun.

My hair spilled over his abs, brushing against his skin with an unbearable shiver.

Edward gripped my waist, his eyes darkening, control slipping.

"Michelle. Don't stop."

I cried out again. "Honey... Honey..."

When I opened my eyes, daylight was already streaming in through the windows.

My whole body ached, like I had been run over. Every part of me was sore.

The room was empty. Edward was already gone.

I forced myself to sit up and slowly climbed out of bed.

When I walked over to the window, the curtains drew back automatically, and the first thing I saw was Patrick standing in the garden below.

My gaze flickered instinctively.

Fingers hanging at my sides curled into tight fists before I even realized it.

But I quickly pulled myself together.

After a shower, I changed into a short off-shoulder dress, making no effort to hide the marks trailing along my neck and chest.

When Patrick walked in, he caught sight of me making my way down the stairs step by step. I was clearly struggling.

He froze. "What happened to you?"

I pressed my lips together, briefly glancing at the servants nearby.

I didn't answer.

When I reached the bottom and stood beside him, I noticed a faint mark on the side of his neck.

My eyes lingered for just a second before drifting away, pretending not to see a thing.

I tugged gently on his sleeve, my cheeks burning red.

"Can you buy me some ointment?"

"What's wrong?"

His brows furrowed instantly, voice dropping into something low and cold.

I bit my lip, speaking so softly it was barely a whisper.

"You were too rough last night. I noticed blood when I showered this morning. It really hurts."

Patrick stiffened.

His hand suddenly gripped my shoulder. "What did you say? You were bleeding?"

I looked up at him, wide-eyed and pitiful. "Yeah. It was just too much... It really hurt."

Then, I reached out and wrapped my arms around him, tilting my face up with a shy, glowing smile.

"But you were different last night. You were so much better than usual. I really liked it, Patrick..."

He stared at me, his face turning pale with rage.

But I kept going, completely oblivious. "You were so mean, though. I cried and begged you to stop, but you just kept going."

His jaw clenched so hard it looked painful.

Patrick's jaw tightened, his dark, conflicted gaze fixed on me.

After a long, tense pause, he suddenly let go and shoved me away.

"I'll go get the ointment. Stay here."

As I watched him turn and leave in a hurry, the smile on my face slowly started to fade.

I had the maids prepare all my favorite dishes.

Halfway through the meal, I heard a car pull up outside.

Setting down my knife and fork, I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

I was just in time to see Edward getting out of the car.

Honestly, he and Patrick weren't that hard to tell apart if you paid attention.

Edward was a little taller than Patrick; his build was more solid and upright. He didn't wear glasses.

Today, he had on a black business suit, similar in style to Patrick's.

At a glance, they still looked strikingly alike, especially from behind.

I stepped outside.

When Edward looked over, I gave him a sweet, bashful smile.

I walked toward him, swaying just slightly. "Patrick, did you bring the ointment?"

He looked down at me but didn't correct me right away.

I clung to his arm and began patting down the pockets on his jacket.

"Where did you hide it?"

Just as my hand reached the pocket of his trousers, he suddenly caught my wrist.

"What ointment?" he asked, voice low and rough.

I pouted. "Why are you still pretending? I told you this morning that you were too rough last night, and I got hurt..."

He fell silent.

But beneath the crisp collar buttoned all the way to the top, his Adam's apple bobbed hard.

He looked almost irritated. His brows were drawing slightly together.

Then, he loosened his tie and looked down at me again.

"I just remembered that I need to check how bad it is first. That way, I can tell the doctor what kind of ointment you need."

"Patrick!" I blushed furiously.

His gaze slid from my neck to my chest, lingering over the faint red marks.

His eyes were burning.

And somehow, I felt like I was burning too.

It was so intense that I could barely keep standing.

"What are you blushing for? Michelle, it's not like I haven't seen it all before."

"I'm done talking to you." I shot him a glare and turned to leave.

But he grabbed my wrist. "Alright. I'll stop teasing."

He pulled me into his arms, my back flush against his firm chest, fitting perfectly into his hold.

His chin brushed past my hair as he leaned down, breath warm against my ear.

He was about to kiss me, and I instinctively closed my eyes.

But just then, another car pulled up, and both of us turned toward the sound.

A sleek black vehicle came speeding down the drive.

Before it even stopped, the door flung open from inside, and Patrick stepped out.

His eyes locked onto me, wrapped tightly in Edward's arms.

Patrick didn't move.

His expression was icy, like frost had settled across his entire face.

My eyes suddenly snapped wide open.

I looked at Edward in front of me, completely stunned.

"Edward, Michelle, what are you two doing?"

Patrick walked over slowly, a paper bag dangling from one hand.