Revenge Marriage: Lust, Not Love

When Alsa arrived at the hotel, snow had begun to fall.

The crowd of reporters gathered at the entrance stood in stark contrast to the bleak weather.

Ross's assistant spotted her and hurried over. "Alsa, what are you doing here?"

Alsa had the kind of beauty that could captivate souls, but her usual lack of smiles lent her a serious and composed demeanor.

Without a change in expression, she removed her leather gloves and lifted her gaze. "Where is President Moore?"

The assistant hesitated. "He's in the room."

Alsa withdrew her gaze and walked forward to knock on the door. A moment later, a young woman, barely in her twenties with red-rimmed eyes, opened it.

The girl didn't recognize Alsa. She sniffled and asked in a delicate voice, "Are you from President Moore's crisis management team?"

Alsa nodded slightly and stepped past her into the room.

Just as she entered, Ross emerged from the bathroom, a loosely tied towel hanging around his waist. Droplets of water fell from his damp hair, tracing down his collarbone before disappearing beneath the towel. His effortless sensuality seemed almost innate.

Seeing Alsa, Ross smirked-completely unbothered by the fact that his newlywed wife had just caught him in a scandalous scene. "Why is it you?"

Alsa met his amused, teasing gaze with unwavering calm. "This situation is tricky. There's a swarm of gossip reporters downstairs, and no one else wants to handle it."

Their conversation flowed smoothly, an odd mix of indifference and familiarity.

Apart from Ross's assistant, no one knew they had been married for three months.

Ross walked over to a chair and casually threw on a bathrobe, leaving the collar open just enough to reveal a hint of his collarbone. He lit a cigarette and leaned back lazily. "Find someone else to take care of it."

Alsa ignored his remark and turned her attention to the young woman standing beside her.

She recognized the girl-a rising starlet under The Moore family's entertainment division, who had recently gained traction through celebrity relationship rumors. Just days ago, she was even called out by a famous director's wife on Twitter.

It had only been a short time, yet Ross still had an open-door policy for such affairs.

Sensing Alsa's gaze, the young starlet felt a flicker of unease but maintained her composed posture. Her voice remained sweetly delicate. "There are so many reporters downstairs. If it really comes to that, I could just admit to being in a relationship with President Moore. Once the media attention dies down, we can clear things up..."

Her intentions were written all over her face-she simply wanted to use Ross to boost her own career.

Before she could finish speaking, Alsa coldly cut her off. "I already contacted your agent on my way here. By now, they should have arrived. You can leave now."

The starlet blinked in shock. "Leave?"

Alsa's voice was crisp and unyielding. "Yes."

With that, she walked over to Ross and plucked the cigarette from his lips, extinguishing it. "President Moore, please head to the room next door. President Black and the others are waiting for you."

Ross lifted an eyebrow, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. "You've arranged everything?"

Alsa's expression remained cool. "You have exactly five minutes, President Moore. After that, hotel security will 'accidentally' allow the reporters upstairs."

Ross locked eyes with her for a few seconds before chuckling and standing up. In the starlet's stunned silence, he opened the door and walked next door without a fuss.

Ross was wild, reckless, and utterly untamed.

As he left, Alsa turned back to the starlet. "Why are you still here?"

The young woman, feeling completely overshadowed by Alsa's presence, swallowed hard. "There are so many reporters downstairs. What if they catch me on camera? My career is just starting, I-"

Alsa's voice remained emotionless. "The company booked you for a lipstick commercial. The shoot is nearby. Your agent will take you there."

Hearing this, the starlet immediately understood-Alsa wasn't going to let her use Ross for publicity. With a reluctant nod, she hurried away.

With everything settled, Alsa was about to leave when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

She took it out and glanced at the screen. Seeing the caller ID, her brows furrowed slightly before she answered. "Grandfather."

An authoritative voice came through the receiver. "Alsa, bring Ross home within thirty minutes."

Alsa replied simply, "Understood."

The caller was none other than Mr. Old Moore. Judging by his tone, he was already aware of Ross's latest scandal.

After ending the call, Alsa made her way downstairs.

Ross's assistant, standing by the wall, let out a silent sigh of relief as he watched her leave.

Alsa didn't drive off immediately. Instead, she sat in the car and sent Ross a message, Grandfather wants us home.

As expected, there was no reply. Like always, her message vanished into the void.

Unbothered, Alsa closed the chat window and checked the entertainment news headlines. Once she confirmed that Ross's name wasn't trending in any gossip columns, she tapped her screen lightly and exited Twitter.

Just as she was lost in thought, the passenger door suddenly swung open. A tall figure slipped inside.

Ross had changed into a well-tailored suit, though he left his jacket unbuttoned and the top of his shirt undone, exuding his usual devil-may-care aura.

Catching Alsa's gaze, he smirked. His voice, rich with amusement, filled the car. "Alsa, what are you looking at?"

The way he said her name-deep, smooth, and teasing-stirred a memory.

That drunken night.

He had coaxed her with that same voice.

"Alsa, that's it, good girl."

"Alsa, relax a little. I'm about to surrender here."

The memory made Alsa frown slightly, but she quickly pushed it aside. Her voice remained composed. "If you're free now, let's head to the Moore estate."

Ross leaned back, tapping his fingers lightly against the car window. "Sure."

Alsa started the car.

As she drove, her phone-resting on the center console-buzzed with a notification.

Ross glanced at the screen and caught sight of the message,

Betty, Alsa, Ross is out fooling around every day. Does he even satisfy you at home? If not, girl, I can call you a gigolo!

Ross raised an eyebrow. ...Excuse me?

Just as he saw it, Alsa also glanced at the message.

Neither of them reacted much. With one hand on the wheel, Alsa calmly flipped her phone screen-down.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the Moore estate.

After parking the car, they stepped out one after the other.

As Alsa walked toward the entrance in her high heels, Ross's voice-low and careless-drifted over.

"Alsa, if you really have that kind of need, you can just ask me directly."

The air was silent for a brief moment. Alsa turned her head to look at the lazy and flirtatious man beside her.

Their eyes met. Ross had a faint, unreadable smile in his eyes, while Alsa remained indifferent.

"No need. I don't have that kind of demand," she said coolly.

With that, she took a step toward the villa ahead of Ross.

Ross watched Alsa's graceful figure as she walked away, the smile at the corner of his lips deepening.

Although Alsa entered the villa before Ross, when she reached the door, she deliberately slowed her pace to walk alongside him.

They were a newlywed couple. Even if they couldn't put on an act of deep affection, they should at least appear respectful toward each other.

As they stepped into the villa side by side and reached the living room, a purple clay teacup suddenly came flying toward them.

Ross swiftly reached out and pulled Alsa behind him to shield her.

The teacup struck his collarbone and then slid down to the floor.

It had been filled with hot tea, and since Ross had just come in from outside, the tea soaked his shirt, steaming in the air.

Alsa pursed her lips slightly as she stood behind Ross, wanting to check on him, but he held her hand, keeping her in place.

"You reckless brat! Is there anything you can do besides messing around all day?"

"A few days ago, there were rumors about you with a model from Vogue magazine. And now, there's gossip that you were caught by the paparazzi with your company's rising star at a hotel. Can you give me a break?"

Old Mr. Moore, the patriarch of the Moore family, was seventy-two this year. Though he was advanced in age, he was well-maintained and looked no older than sixty.

Seated on the couch, he glared at Ross with a stern expression.

Ross casually unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt and smirked lazily. "How have I not given you peace of mind? Just yesterday, I signed off on that overseas acquisition deal for you."

At Ross's words, Mr. Moore still looked displeased, but his anger had noticeably subsided.

He scrutinized Ross for a moment before gripping his cane and speaking in a serious tone. "Come here. Let me see if you got burned."

Seeing that his grandfather's expression had softened, Ross let go of Alsa's hand and strode forward. "Grandpa, who tattled on me this time?"

Old Mr. Moore had always been indulgent toward Ross. Over the years, he had turned a blind eye to his scandals. Even when punishing him, it was mostly just for show.

As Ross sat down, Mr. Moore shot him a sidelong glance. "You're not a child anymore. Act with some restraint and stop giving others leverage against you."

After reprimanding Ross, Mr. Moore turned his gaze toward Alsa. "You handled today's matter well."

"Thank you, Grandpa," Alsa responded politely.

Mr. Moore nodded. "Alsa, you and Ross are not getting any younger. Don't just focus on work-spend more time at home. I hope to hold my great-grandchild by next year."

Alsa maintained a polite smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Alright."

She stood in the living room for a moment before taking the initiative to help in the kitchen.

As soon as she was out of sight, Mr. Moore's expression darkened as he turned back to Ross. "What exactly are your intentions toward Alsa? If you don't like her, just give her a sum of money and let her go. That girl grew up under my watch-you can't keep treating her like this..."

Before Mr. Moore could finish, Ross lazily stretched out his long legs, picked up a grape, and popped it into his mouth. Chewing, he spoke with a teasing lilt, "Grandpa, do you prefer boys or girls?"

Mr. Moore was momentarily stunned, not immediately catching on. Then, realization dawned, and a delighted smile spread across his face. "You've come around? You want to have a child with Alsa?"

Ross leaned back and stretched. "Let's have one."