Deceptive Love: Why Did My Cold-blooded CEO Want Me Back?

In the dimly lit presidential suite, the air was thick with the heat of passion.

The entwined couple on the bed reached their climax together, two satisfied groans escaping their lips as they breathed heavily, caught in the afterglow.

Katherine Gill lay still, her face buried in the plush pillow, her breath still uneven, a faint flush coloring her skin.

Vincent Murphy's hand slipped away from her collarbone, brushing aside her silky hair to reveal the delicate curve of her neck.

He leaned down, his lips pressing soft, warm kisses against her skin, causing a slight tremor to run through her body.

The room, once calm, now buzzed with a rekindled intensity.

Suddenly, the phone by the bedside buzzed, breaking the spell.

Vincent paused, his long arm reaching out to grab his phone.

Katherine's eyes fluttered open, curiosity piqued as she watched him stand, moving toward the bathroom with the phone in hand.

The bathroom door shut, but Katherine's ears caught the faint sound of a soft female voice calling Vincent's name.

Her heart sank like a stone, pulled down by a wave of sinking certainty.

The warmth in her eyes faded as the whispered rumors of Vincent's impending engagement resurfaced, turning her stomach.

For five years, she had been Vincent's secretary, and for three of those, his secret lover.

But now, she could feel the change. He had always answered calls openly before, never hiding them from her.

Never before had he interrupted their intimacy for a call-yet this time, something was different.

It was clear that whoever was on the other end of that line held more than just his attention.

Katherine's mind raced as she processed the overwhelming truth: her time with Vincent was running out.

The sound of water running from the bathroom filled the room.

Katherine's eyes grew dull as she tried to collect her conflicting emotions.

Being his lover was one thing, but she refused to be the reason another woman's marriage fell apart. She would never allow herself to become the kind of person she deeply resented.

When Vincent stepped out of the bathroom, he was wearing a robe, droplets of water still clinging to his damp hair.

Katherine was already seated on the sofa, fully dressed and reviewing Vincent's upcoming schedule on her laptop.

Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her neckline, slightly open, revealed faint marks from their passionate encounter.

Vincent's eyes lingered on them, his breath catching as the desire he had suppressed briefly resurfaced.

"Mr. Murphy, your dinner with a business partner is scheduled for eight tonight."

Katherine's indifferent tone snapped Vincent out of his thoughts.

Her tone conveyed the impression that their relationship was purely professional, nothing more.

Vincent loathed Katherine's composed and logical manner-the way she so effortlessly drew a line between work and intimacy once they were out of bed.

His brows knitted together, his voice still rough, laced with a strange mix of irritation and coldness. "Get a driver to take me back to Sacford immediately."

Katherine's gaze shot up, caught off guard. "Now?"

"Yes."

The words hung between them, and Katherine fought the urge to ask if his abrupt decision had anything to do with the woman on the other end of the phone.

But she knew her place-she had no right to question him.

To Vincent, she was nothing more than a lover-someone he could easily cast aside with money.

As she absorbed the weight of this, Vincent moved toward her, his presence commanding and sudden.

Katherine quickly lowered her gaze, focusing on the screen of her laptop. "Mr. Murphy, this collaboration is crucial for the company," she said, trying to maintain control.

Without warning, Vincent grabbed her hair, yanking her head back to force her gaze to meet his.

At the same time, he shoved his leg between hers, forcing her knees apart.

His raw, aggressive energy overwhelmed her.

Katherine felt a flush of anger and humiliation-this wasn't the Vincent she knew.

Six months ago, he had been tender, patient, but now...

Now, he was unpredictable, cruel, in ways that left her reeling.

A few droplets of water from his hair dripped onto her neck, tracing down her skin and sending a shiver through her body.

Her legs instinctively pressed together, trembling from the cold sensation.

That small, involuntary reaction only fueled Vincent's desire.

He had originally intended to have her perform oral sex, but now, he couldn't resist pulling her up into his arms, kissing her fiercely.

The sting in her arm from his forceful grip barely registered as her mind was swept away by the depth of his kiss.

They always knew how to make each other burn with desire-he knew her sensitive spots, and she knew his.

He sucked at her neck, biting gently, pushing her to the edge of madness, until she tilted her head, desperate for more.

Just as quickly as he had pulled her in, Vincent suddenly shoved her away.

At Vincent's shove, Katherine crashed onto the plush sofa, the impact stealing her breath for a moment.

She looked up, locking eyes with Vincent, his gaze laced with a sharp, mocking edge.

"This collaboration is all on you," he stated coldly.

He paused, then added, his tone sharpening, "Mess this up, and you're out."

Without another word, Vincent spun on his heel, shrugging off his bathrobe, and began dressing, completely ignoring her presence. He left the room with not even a backward glance.

Later that evening, Katherine arrived at the banquet, flanked by one of Vincent's male assistants.

"Miss Gill, since Mr. Murphy isn't joining us, does that mean you'll be keeping us company instead?"

The question hung in the air like a thinly veiled challenge.

Before she could even settle into her seat, a glass of liquor was placed in front of her.

The client, Alfred Jones, with his legs crossed and a smirk that spelled trouble from miles away, studied her intently.

His annoyance at Vincent's absence was clear-now, if she wanted the deal to go through, Katherine had no choice but to play along.

She downed the glass, feeling the fire of the liquor burn its way down her throat.

"Well done, Miss Gill!" Alfred exclaimed, slapping her a second drink with enthusiasm. "I've heard so much about the stunning Miss Gill working with Mr. Murphy. It's an honor to finally meet you!"

His grin stretched wide, eyes roaming over her with a look that was anything but professional.

Suppressing the urge to recoil, Katherine took the glass from his hand.

"Thank you for the compliments, Mr. Jones," she said, throwing back the second shot with practiced ease.

"Haha, now that's the spirit!"

Alfred laughed, guiding her to a seat, his hand on the back of her chair. He pulled a chair closer, planting his hand on her shoulder, his fingers brushing the fabric of her dress as he lingered a little too long.

Under the table, his shoe slid against her calf, a calculated and deliberate gesture.

Katherine kept her expression calm, discreetly shifting her leg away while pouring Alfred another drink.

The assistant who had accompanied her looked on with growing concern but dared not say a word.

As the evening wore on, the room thickened with the haze of alcohol, everyone getting more intoxicated by the minute.

Katherine, too, felt the effects of the alcohol, yet her mind remained razor-sharp.

"Mr. Jones, shall we finalize the contract?" she asked, trying to steer the evening back on track.

Alfred frowned, feigning surprise. "Oh, dear! I left the contract in my room."

He straightened up and moved his hand from her chair to her shoulder, his touch lingering just a beat too long.

"How about this," he purred, "you come with me to fetch it?"

The room fell into an eerie silence, all eyes on Katherine as they waited for her response.

After a tense moment, she forced a smile and nodded. "Alright."

With that, Alfred draped himself over her shoulder as they made their way upstairs, sparking a flurry of whispers behind them.

"I told you, she's not just Mr. Murphy's secretary. Seems like he sends her to entertain clients more often than we thought."

"She's stunning, though-have you seen her figure?"

"Wonder how long it'll take Alfred to... finish up. Ha!"

Unable to stand it any longer, the assistant rushed out of the room, his phone already in his hand. He dialed Vincent's number, his heart pounding.

It took three tries before the line connected.

"Mr. Murphy, Mr. Jones from Evergreen Group led Katherine away to his room!"

The assistant failed to notice the brief, sharp intake of breath on the other end as he hurriedly detailed how Katherine had been pressured to drink and harassed throughout the dinner.

"Mr. Murphy, are you still there? What should I do? Should I call the police?" The words tumbled out in a rush.

A long silence stretched on the other end of the line.

Then, Vincent's voice-calm, detached, and colder than ice-cut through. "No. We can't afford to jeopardize the deal."

The call ended with a finality that left the assistant with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Bryson Foster, the assistant, stared at his phone in shock after the call abruptly ended. His heart raced for a moment, but he quickly snapped into action, rushing to the front desk.

Katherine had always treated him with kindness, and he couldn't just abandon her when she needed him most.

Moments later, the blaring siren of an ambulance pierced the air outside the hotel.

Still at the reception, Bryson was trying to get Alfred's room number from the receptionist when he noticed the medical staff rushing by with a stretcher.

A chill of dread washed over him, and he instinctively followed them.

The elevator dinged and stopped on the twenty-third floor.

Bryson was the first to dash out, his heart in his throat. Relief flooded him when he saw Katherine standing in the hallway, looking composed and unharmed.

The medical team bypassed Bryson and headed straight for Katherine.

She pointed to a room and muttered something to them, and they rushed in.

A short while later, Alfred was wheeled out, draped in a bathrobe, gripping his throat and gasping for air, his face so swollen it was almost unrecognizable.

As the medical team hurried away, Bryson stood frozen, wide-eyed. "Katherine, what happened?"

"Mr. Jones had an allergic reaction to mangoes," she replied, her voice calm.

Bryson frowned. "How could that happen? Didn't he know to avoid mangoes?"

Katherine dropped her gaze, hiding the brief flash of coldness in her eyes, and smiled, offering no reply. That was her strategy to avoid his advances, carefully orchestrated behind the scenes.

"Did you secure the deal?" Bryson asked.

Katherine held up the folder in her hand, the one containing the signed contract, and gave him a satisfied nod.

The next day, Katherine sent a bouquet to the hospital for Alfred, a small token of her "concern," before heading back to Sacford with Bryson.

During the ride, Bryson began, "Katherine, I was really concerned about you after Mr. Jones whisked you away last night, so I called Mr. Murphy immediately..."

He froze, realizing he had said more than he intended.

His eyes darted nervously to Katherine's face.

Her smile stiffened.

So, Vincent knew she had been taken by Alfred?

A cold wave of bitterness crept through Katherine, settling in her chest and spreading to her limbs.

The alcohol from last night also began to gnaw at her stomach, dulling the pain with its own sting.

Bryson, noticing her change in demeanor, quickly turned away, pretending to sleep, silently regretting his slip-up.

He'd been with the company for less than six months, but he had already picked up on the secret between Katherine and Vincent.

Soon, the rhythmic tapping of keyboard keys broke the silence beside him.

Katherine was drafting her resignation letter.

As her fingers moved, her mind wandered back five years, to when she had first become Vincent's personal secretary.

It was a dinner meeting that would alter the course of everything. Vincent had brought her along, but halfway through, he excused himself to handle something urgent.

Much like the night before, the business partner at the table seized the opportunity, attempting to take advantage of the intoxicated Katherine and drag her to his room.

Before things could escalate, Vincent had burst back in, knocking the man down with one swift punch, and then whisking Katherine away.

At that time, her younger brother's surgery had just failed, leaving her drowning in a whirlwind of despair. Overcome with emotion, she clung to Vincent's expensive suit, her body trembling as she sobbed uncontrollably in his arms, seeking solace in the only anchor she could find.

Vincent had been so patient, soothing her with the words, "It's okay now. Don't be afraid. This won't happen again."

That night marked the beginning of their secret relationship-outwardly a superior and subordinate, but behind closed doors, something far more intimate.

As Katherine typed the final period, an ache in her stomach reminded her that nothing felt quite right. She couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol or something else.

Before returning to the office, she made herself stop by the pharmacy downstairs, thinking a quick grab of painkillers would be just what she needed.

"Take one at a time, and no alcohol after," the pharmacist advised kindly. "Also, don't take it if you're pregnant."

Katherine's heart skipped a beat at the mention of pregnancy.

Her period was three days late.

Her fingers tightened around the painkiller box. "Could you also get me a pregnancy test?" she asked, her voice steady despite the sudden rush of anxiety.