Chapter 8 The Allure of Wealth

Emily knew her place. A mistress is a mistress, a despised third party hidden from the light.

She needed to remain aware of her position and avoid thinking about things she shouldn't.

Her only goal was to serve her patron well and extract as much money from him as possible.

She wanted nothing but money; everything else was irrelevant.

Emily's lips curled into a red smile as she blew on the check.

"Don't worry, Mr. Remington. A mistress should know her place. When I see your main lady, I'll steer clear. I won't overstep my bounds. You can rest assured that I handle these things with utmost professionalism."

Alexander suddenly asked, "Emily, don't you want to become Mrs. Remington?"

Through the faint smoke, Alexander watched Emily as she smiled at the check, looking like a sly fox who had just stolen a farmer's chicken-cunning, pleased, and satisfied...

He never thought their arrangement would last nearly three months. He despised and looked down on the woman who had schemed her way into his bed for money.

Their relationship was straightforward, purely transactional.

But Emily was different from other women. When she looked at him, there was no greed or calculation.

This woman was simple. She wanted money, and money was all she recognized. She was vulgar, but dealing with her was uncomplicated. She knew her place-business within the walls, professionalism outside.

So, as particular as Alexander was, he didn't want to end things too quickly.

After all, women who only wanted money without causing trouble were rare.

She had gone from being overly cautious to managing their interactions with ease-a notable change, making her somewhat interesting.

Moreover, she was young and vibrant, and he had money to spare. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, so why not continue it?

Emily carefully tucked the check into her bag and, with a fawning smile, jumped off the bed, ran barefoot to Alexander, and sat sideways on his lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pouted, her voice sweet and coquettish, "Of course, I want to, but I know my limits. I can't have both the fish and the bear's paw. And your 'bear's paw' already belongs to someone formidable. I don't want to end up with nothing."

She pretended to sigh sadly, "Talking money with others hurts feelings; talking feelings with you hurts money. It's quite a dilemma."

Emily rolled her eyes inwardly. Mrs. Remington? Even if every other woman on earth disappeared, it wouldn't be her.

She wasn't foolish enough to try and hold onto Alexander. He didn't belong to any woman. This man had the coldest heart, even towards Roxanne. She was merely a suitable public fiancée.

What isn't meant to be yours will never belong to you, no matter how hard you try. Emily had learned this lesson at the cost of her previous life.

Besides, their relationship had started in the filthiest way possible.

It began with dark schemes and transactions, devoid of any sunshine. So, they were destined never to blossom into a legendary love story.

Alexander's expression remained inscrutable. "Remember your place, Emily."

"I always do," she replied, maintaining her sweet, playful demeanor.

"Good." He seemed satisfied with her response. "Now, why don't you make yourself useful and pour us some wine?"

Emily slid off his lap, her movements graceful and practiced. She walked over to the bar and selected a bottle of red wine, pouring two glasses with a practiced hand.

Handing one to Alexander, she raised her own glass. "To mutual benefits."

Alexander clinked his glass against hers, a faint smile playing on his lips. "To mutual benefits."

As they sipped their wine, Emily's mind was already calculating her next steps. She had to stay sharp and focused, using every opportunity to secure her future and exact her revenge.

Alexander may have thought he controlled the game, but Emily was determined to play her cards right.

She had come too far to let her guard down now. Every move she made was part of a larger plan, one that would lead her to the vengeance she so desperately sought.

In the dim light of the room, their glasses clinked softly, a silent agreement to their unspoken terms.

Emily knew she had to keep playing the part of the perfect mistress, while always keeping her eyes on the prize.

For now, she would bide her time, gather her strength, and wait for the perfect moment to strike.

So, in this world, the safest and most timeless thing is money. Emily was a woman who loved money above all else. She didn't want people or love, just money.

Alexander Remington stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips.

Smart women were appealing, but sometimes they were also annoying.

"Emily, you certainly know your place," he said.

Alexander rarely called her by name, as she didn't deserve it, but there were exceptions, like now, when he was particularly angry.

Yet, when he called her name, it somehow sounded tender, as if her name was meant to be spoken by him.

Emily, with eyes full of allure, lay on Alexander's shoulder, her small hand playfully tapping on his shoulder like she was playing the piano.

She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. "So, Mr. Remington, please don't give me any hope. I can be greedy too, and what if one day I suddenly get a foolish idea to hold on to you? That would be a disaster, wouldn't it?"

Alexander narrowed his eyes, his dark gaze filled with an intense heat, though his expression remained as calm as ever.

If Emily hadn't been with him for some time and understood his subtle changes, she would have thought she had no effect on him at all.

Emily blinked innocently, her doe-like eyes filled with feigned purity and grievance, her voice soft and complaining.

"Mr. Remington, how can you be like this? Tonight's service should be over. I'm really tired and it's time to clock out."

Little did she know that her act only fueled Alexander's desire to ravage her, to tear apart her facade of innocence.

Alexander never understood how Emily, with a heart so full of greed, could have such pure, clean eyes.

He gripped her chin, his hold tightening, a cruel smile on his lips. "After today, you'll have plenty of time to rest."

The implication was clear: after today, he wouldn't summon her for a long time, so she should serve him well now.

Emily's skin was exceptionally smooth and pale, emitting a faint natural scent, not artificial but a subtle, innate fragrance that Alexander couldn't get enough of.

He enjoyed leaving marks on her skin, red imprints that looked like brands.

Once marked, she belonged to him.

---

Emily's last memory of that day was feeling extremely tired, her eyelids heavy, but her mind was still clear.

She distinctly heard Alexander murmur in her ear, "Emily, you are a temptress."

Hearing this, Emily smiled faintly before slipping into unconsciousness.

In truth, she wanted to tell Alexander:

Dear, if I weren't a temptress, how could I have schemed to capture you?

If I weren't a temptress, how could I have made it to your bed?

If I weren't a temptress, how could I have done such degrading things?

She chuckled inwardly... She was indeed a temptress, a woman rotten to the core, a woman destined for hell.

No, she had already died once, but she hadn't gone to hell. Heaven must be blind to have let her come back to wreak havoc again.

---

When Emily woke up, the room was filled with the pale light of dawn. She felt the soreness in her body, a reminder of the night's events.

Alexander was gone, leaving behind the scent of his cologne and the faint remnants of their passionate encounter.

She sat up slowly, wrapping herself in the sheet, and looked around the lavish room. This was her reality now-playing the part of a mistress, navigating a world where money was her only constant.

Emily got out of bed, her movements slow and deliberate. She had to stay focused, keep her eyes on the prize. This was her life, and she would play her part to perfection.

She walked to the bathroom, her reflection in the mirror showing the toll of the night. Bruises and bite marks adorned her pale skin, each one a testament to her survival.

Emily turned on the shower, letting the hot water wash away the remnants of the night. She closed her eyes, the steam enveloping her, providing a momentary escape from her thoughts.

But she couldn't escape for long. There was still much to be done, plans to be made, and revenge to be exacted.

As she stepped out of the shower and dressed, Emily felt a renewed sense of determination. She had come too far to let anything deter her now.

With a final glance at the luxurious room, she left, ready to face whatever the day would bring. She had a goal, and she wouldn't stop until she achieved it.

Money was her only love, and she would do whatever it took to secure it. She had no other choice.