Chapter 2

Bowen slammed the whiskey glass down on the marble bar.

The violent crash of crystal against stone echoed through the penthouse. It was a desperate attempt to use physical noise to take back control of the room.

Aria didn't even blink. Her eyelashes remained perfectly still. She just stood there, watching his pathetic performance with calm, calculating eyes.

Bowen ground his teeth together. He remembered a scene from a trashy reality show he had watched the night before. He forced his face into a rigid mask of authority and spat out a command.

"Take off your clothes."

Aria rolled her eyes internally. The dialogue was worse than a B-list Hollywood movie.

Handler 377 flashed a frantic red light in her retinas. The system demanded she act humiliated. It wanted her to cross her arms, cry, and beg for mercy.

Aria ignored it. Fighting him would only drag out this terrible script. Obedience was the fastest way to end the scene.

She raised her right hand. Her fingers brushed against the thin silk strap of her nightgown.

Bowen's pupils dilated so fast his eyes looked almost entirely black. He hadn't expected her to actually do it. He expected a fight.

Aria flicked her index finger. The left strap slipped off her shoulder, exposing a large expanse of pale, bare skin.

Bowen stopped breathing. His lungs locked up. His gaze snapped away from her skin as if he had been burned, locking onto the floor-to-ceiling windows on his right.

But the morning sun was too bright. The glass acted like a perfect mirror, reflecting Aria's every move right back at him. He couldn't escape her image.

Aria noticed his desperate attempt to look away. She took a small step forward. Her bare toes almost brushed against the edge of his expensive leather slippers.

The silk nightgown slid down her body with a soft, whispering friction. It pooled in a dark puddle on the rug around her ankles.

Bowen's blood rushed to his head. A loud ringing noise filled his ears. His brain completely short-circuited.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything to regain his footing. His throat was so dry it felt like it was coated in sand. No sound came out.

Aria tilted her head. She noticed the tips of his ears. They were glowing a violent, bright red.

A single drop of warm, dark red liquid fell from Bowen's right nostril. It hit the white marble counter with a wet tap.

Aria froze. She stared at the spot of blood. The ruthless Wall Street predator was actually having a nosebleed just because a woman dropped her nightgown in front of him.

Bowen raised his hand slowly. He touched the skin above his lip. He looked down at his fingertips, seeing the smear of fresh blood. His face went completely slack with horror.

Aria bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper. She had to use every ounce of her professional training to stop herself from bursting into laughter.

She instantly changed her expression. Her eyes softened into deep, genuine concern.

She reached out her bare arm. Her cool fingertips pressed gently against the exposed skin of his chest, right where his robe hung open.

The second her skin touched his, she felt his pectoral muscle. It was locked as tight as a block of concrete.

Bowen jumped backward like he had been struck by lightning. His spine slammed hard against the edge of the bar.

He frantically wiped the back of his hand across his nose, smearing the blood across his cheek. He was trying to scrape together whatever dignity he had left.

Aria let her voice drip with sweet, innocent concern. "Do you want me to call a doctor for you?"

Her eyes, however, danced with pure mockery.

Bowen's face flushed a deep, furious purple. "Shut up!" he barked.

His voice cracked on the second word, pitching up into an embarrassing squeak.

He spun around, his bare feet slipping slightly on the polished floor. He practically ran toward the bathroom, his broad shoulders hunched in total defeat.

The heavy bathroom door slammed shut behind him. A second later, the loud rush of the shower turning on full blast echoed through the wall. Cold water.

Aria bent down. She picked up her silk nightgown and slipped it back over her head.

She looked at the empty air where the system screen usually hovered.

"This is your male lead?" she said out loud, her voice dripping with ice.