Sinful Temptation: Mr. Playboy Zillionaire Pleads For My Return

"Iris, you're grown now..."

The words were a hushed breath against Iris Curtis's ear, dark with longing. Heat seared through her, a tremor rippling down her spine.

From the funeral home, the muted weeping of mourners could be heard.

Pinned against the wooden railing in a gazebo behind the funeral home, Iris whimpered, her voice unsteady, "Anyone could walk in..."

The hem of her black, form-fitting dress rode up, her long legs brushing against the sharp fabric of Vincent Stewart's tailored trousers.

......

"Have you heard? At Caden Lambert's funeral yesterday, a pair of shameless lovers were making out at the gazebo behind the funeral home."

In a private suite on the second floor of Mellow Café, Gretchen Higgins, a wealthy socialite, pressed a silk handkerchief to her lips as she leaned toward Bryanna Stewart, her expression curling with distaste.

"Some playboy must've gotten tangled up with a slut. No shame, even in a funeral home," Bryanna scoffed, revulsion flashing in her eyes.

Nothing disgusted her more than people who had a chaotic and depraved private life.

"The surveillance footage is already being reviewed by the Lambert family. It won't be long before they find out," Gretchen added.

Lost in thought, Iris jolted as coffee spilled onto the table.

Bryanna's eyes flicked up. "Iris, steady your hand while pouring the coffee."

Gretchen lifted her chin, her eyes settling on Iris with quiet scrutiny. "Bryanna, you've raised her well-polite, poised. And most importantly, she never crosses the line."

Bryanna took a slow sip of coffee, satisfied. "A woman's purity is her most valued virtue. For those from distinguished families, it matters even more."

The door to the suite groaned as it swung open. "Mr. Stewart has arrived," someone announced.

With her head lowered, Iris caught the gleam of impeccably polished leather shoes, the sharp lines of bespoke trousers-a portrait of quiet luxury.

Vincent greeted Gretchen and Bryanna, his voice carried a smooth, measured depth.

Bryanna, his sister-in-law, greeted him with a warm smile. "You only got back yesterday and headed straight to Caden's funeral. Iris, did you see him there?"

Heat rushed to Iris's face at the memory of last night's scandalous encounter. She still couldn't fathom why Vincent had suddenly lost control.

The coffee carafe in her hand was blistering, yet she barely felt it.

"No, we didn't cross paths," said Vincent.

Vincent reached for the carafe, taking it from her grasp and pouring himself a cup leisurely.

Her palm burned and flushed a furious shade of red.

A man who commanded power with effortless authority-yet just as easily, he could deny their connection and carry on as if nothing had happened.

Bryanna let out a light laugh. "Iris has always been a bit wary of Vincent. And with him being overseas for the past seven years, the gap between them only grew wider."

Gretchen laughed lightly. "That much is obvious. She looks like a mouse cornered by a cat-completely terrified."

Bryanna teased, "Iris, there's no need to be scared of him. Perhaps it's time I find him a wife. Someone who can get him to drop that icy exterior and bring out his smile."

Gretchen placed her cup down. "I heard Dolores Dawson is at Mellow Café today."

Bryanna turned to Vincent. "She's considering a connection through marriage with our family. What's your take on it?"

Vincent took a sip of coffee, fingers resting lightly on the delicate porcelain cup. "I'll let you handle it."

Iris lowered her head even further, her nails digging into her palm.

Bryanna beamed with approval. "I'll let Mrs. Dawson know that you're interested."

"Then congratulations are in order," Gretchen said with a wide smile. "Looks like we'll be raising our glasses at your wedding soon, Vincent."

Once their coffee was gone, Bryanna and Gretchen lingered near the entrance, making idle conversation.

Iris inched toward Vincent, whispering, "The funeral home had security cameras. The Lamberts are going through the footage."

Vincent took out a cigarette from its case, rolling it between his fingers before placing it between his lips. His tone was indifferent. "And?"

Iris's breath caught. "They'll discover it was us!"

The gazebo stood like a hidden sanctuary, cloaked in a lush tapestry of intertwining vines and vibrant green foliage. Inside, the space felt private, almost secluded; anyone outside would catch only glimpses of their silhouettes, framed by the enchanting display of nature.

However, the security footage might reveal their faces and every moment clearly.

"And?" Vincent bit down lightly on the cigarette, his tone almost amused, as if she had just told him something funny.

Since the death of Vincent's elder brother, Vincent had taken command of Stewart Group.

With the company dominating over half of the city's industries, he stood at the pinnacle of power-untouchable.

For him, their encounter was nothing more than a fleeting indulgence.

For her, it was a catastrophe waiting to unfold.

A sleek yellow Porsche pulled up to the curb, its tinted window lowering to reveal a few stylish young men in designer shades. "Stewart, let's hit the club."

Vincent crushed the cigarette between his fingers, his eyes sweeping the street. With no trash bin in sight, he flicked it toward Iris.

Then, without so much as a backward glance, he strode to the car and slid inside.

The Porsche sped off, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

Iris stared at the cigarette butt resting in her palm, cold emptiness creeping in.

She felt she was nothing but a temporary amusement-used, discarded, and left behind.

......

Vincent hadn't set foot in his family home for days.

Bryanna called him. "I've arranged a meeting with Elianna Dawson. Are you going to see her?"

That very night, he came back.

As they sat in the living room, Bryanna cast Iris a knowing glance. "See? Vincent might entertain himself however he wants, but when it comes to important matters, he doesn't waste time. The moment Elianna's name came up, he was back in an instant."

Vincent leaned back against the sofa, his eyes settling on Iris. "Is your hand okay?"

Bryanna's brow furrowed. "Your hand? What happened, Iris?"

Iris curled her fingers into a fist. "It's nothing, just a minor burn."

A nearby servant let out a chuckle. "Mr. Stewart is quite the gentleman. He'll make a devoted husband one day."

Bryanna picked up a photograph and held it out. "This is Elianna. Take a look. Do you like her?"

Vincent arched a brow, then shifted his attention to Iris. "What do you think?"

Smirking, Bryanna slid the photo closer to Iris. "Go on, have a look."

In the photo, a young lady cradled a bouquet of lilies, her delicate features radiating innocence and her curves absolutely stunning.

Iris gave a barely perceptible nod.

Vincent studied the photograph for a minute before setting it down. "Not bad. Seems like you've got good taste, Iris."

Her brow twitched. It was Bryanna's choice. So why did it sound like she had a say in it?

She knew the truth. Vincent had a preference for women with alluring curves.

Bryanna clapped her hands. "A perfect match! Dolores mentioned Elianna had her eye on you for a while, Vincent. Seems like fate-you'd be tempting destiny if you turned her down."

Later, Iris went upstairs. She hadn't yet reached her room when a tall figure stepped into her path, pressing her into the corner of the staircase.

"Move out," Vincent muttered, his breath warm against her ear.

Iris struggled, but his grip was unyielding, holding her flush against his lean frame.

"I'll buy you an apartment," he murmured, lips grazing her skin.

Tears stung her eyes.

Tomorrow, he would meet Elianna. A perfect union between two powerful families-soon, there would be a wedding.

And what was she to him?

"You're not worried Miss Dawson will find out?" Iris blurted amidst tears.

Vincent pressed a lingering kiss to the hollow of her throat, his voice low and thick with desire. "She won't."

Iris squeezed her eyes shut as warm tears streaked down her cheeks.

To him, she was a secret lover, a caged plaything.

To the public, she was Bryanna's adopted daughter-a member of the Stewart family.

But the fact was that she was an orphan.

She had been fortunate-able to grow up like any other girl, given the opportunity to study. But it had all depended on Bryanna's fleeting moments of generosity.

There was no one to rely on but herself.

At the very least, she had her education. Enrolled in the top college in the city, she was just a year away from graduating.

One day, she hoped to be independent, save enough to buy her own apartment, live like any normal woman, fall in love, marry, and have children.

Nowhere in that future had she ever pictured being someone's secret lover.

"Uncle Vin..."

"Just call me Vincent," Vincent cut in, his grip tilting her chin up.

Iris gave a strained smile.

"I can act like it never happened that night."

In the dim light, a flicker of something unreadable passed through Vincent's eyes.

Downstairs, Bryanna's voice rang sharp and clear as she spoke into the phone. "I've got the surveillance footage now. Let's find out which slut had the nerve to seduce a man at a funeral."

"If they find out, I'm done for. You have the power to clear the footage. Please, I'm begging you..."

Iris shook uncontrollably, her fingers gripping tightly onto Vincent's sleeve as her voice cracked with sheer desperation.

Without a moment's hesitation, he peeled her fingers away, his face void of emotion, cold and detached. "I have a date tomorrow. I don't have time for this," he said.

Without another word, he turned and strode off. Helping her would have cost him nothing. But he wouldn't.

Iris stood motionless, her body growing colder by the second.

If the truth surfaced-if anyone found out that she and Vincent were the ones caught in that scandalous act at Caden's funeral-her life would be in shambles.

Bryanna would disown her. Her university would expel her. Without a degree, securing a respectable job would be impossible. Years of hard work would amount to nothing.

Making out with Vincent at Caden's funeral-no punishment could ever cleanse her of that disgrace. Her reputation would be in ruins.

What could she do then?

Iris sank to the floor, pressing a hand over her mouth as silent sobs wracked her body.

The next day, she avoided school, too terrified to set foot outside. All she could do was wait-dreading the inevitable moment when her world would collapse around her.

By early afternoon, Vincent returned home.

"How did your date with Elianna go?" Bryanna asked him with eager curiosity.

Vincent raised an eyebrow, a little amused. "We got along just fine."

Bryanna sighed in relief. "That's wonderful! I'll call Dolores right away."

As Vincent shrugged off his coat, his eyes drifted toward the entrance, where a pair of neatly placed shoes caught his attention. "Iris is home?"

Bryanna, already dialing, answered absentmindedly, "She said she wasn't feeling well, so she stayed in."

Vincent set his coat aside. "I'll check on her."

Bryanna paused for a moment before speaking. "Iris is an adult now. The two of you should keep some distance."

Standing at the base of the staircase, Vincent let out a low chuckle. "I practically watched her grow up."

Bryanna nodded in agreement, a pleased smile forming. "Iris has always been the most well-mannered-she'd never do anything inappropriate. Never mind. Go ahead."

Upstairs, in the bedroom.

"Period cramps?" Vincent's voice was low as he eyed the small figure curled beneath the pink blanket. Slipping a hand under the covers, he traced his fingers along her soft curves, moving downward.

"Please stop it!" Iris gasped, her breath hitching as she frantically seized his roaming hand.

Vincent gently swept away the loose strands of hair from her forehead. "You look sick."

Iris turned her face to the side, deliberately evading his touch.

He pulled her into his lap, his hand pressing against her abdomen in slow, deliberate motions. "They say having sex more often helps with the pain."

She shuddered slightly.

In that instant, everything became clear to her. He had never planned to let her go.

He hadn't overlooked the surveillance camera-he had deliberately let the footage surface. The moment Bryanna cast her out and the university expelled her, she would be left with nothing. No home. No future. And when that happened, she could never escape his control.

Tears rolled down Iris's cheeks as she struggled to speak through her sobs. "Please, I'm begging you... Just let me finish my studies."

Vincent slid beneath the covers beside her, his breath hot and heavy with desire. He wasn't paying attention.

His fingers suddenly stopped, and a slight crease formed between his brows. "You're not on your period."

Iris froze, shaking her head.

He let out a slow breath, amusement threading through his voice as his hand continued its deliberate, teasing descent. "You little liar."

Iris's mind spiraled into turmoil. She didn't dare resist. She didn't even dare to move.

His hands were practiced, unclasping her clothes with ease. One by one, the thin layers of fabric slipped away.

Under the blanket, his hands roamed freely. His breath grew heavier, the air between them thick with heat.

Iris curled inward, her face burning as she drowned in his scent.

Every place his fingers brushed felt like fire, her body betraying the last shreds of her resolve.

Under his relentless teasing, a sheen of sweat coated her skin.

The tension coiled between them, the fire of desire licking them up.

A sudden knock shattered the moment.

"Vincent, why is the door locked? I need to speak with you." Bryanna's voice rang from outside.

Iris bolted upright, scrambling for her clothes. But Vincent caught her wrist, yanking her back into the bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around her.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he stood and walked to the door.

By the time the door swung open, his expression had already returned to its usual composure. He turned to Bryanna with a smooth smile. "Is anything the matter?"

His face was void of any longing-no hint remained of the man who had surrendered to unrestrained desire just moments ago.

Bryanna wasted no time getting to the point. "The Lambert family claims they've secured the surveillance footage, but the distance makes it nearly useless. The images are too blurry to make out the faces of the shameless couple. You have a top-tier team-could you help enhance the resolution?"

Vincent casually straightened his cufflinks. "No problem."

Iris's chest tightened. Why didn't he refuse?

Bryanna exhaled in relief, then turned to Iris. "Iris, that day I saw you coming in through the back door. Did you happen to see anyone at the gazebo behind the funeral home?"

That day, it all happened so fast.

Inside the gazebo, their upper bodies remained fully dressed, but their lower halves were entwined so tightly. From afar, they appeared to be nothing more than two people sitting unusually close. In reality, they were lost in the height of their passion.

From afar, a figure stood at the back door of the funeral home, waving in their direction.

At the peak of intensity, they surrendered to their release.

And then-Maggie Warren had approached to greet Vincent.

Iris had barely yanked down her skirt in time, her face still flushed, her breath unsteady.

Jolted back to reality, she lifted her eyes, only to find that Vincent had already shifted his focus elsewhere. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he stood at the doorway. His suit remained pristine, not a single crease in sight.

No hint of the man who had just consumed her moments ago. As if she had been the only one who lost control.

Gathering her thoughts, Iris's eyes locked with Bryanna's, and a jolt of panic shot through her. She quickly shook her head, her voice unsteady. "N-no... I didn't see anyone."

Bryanna gave a satisfied nod. "Good. As a lady from a distinguished family, you shouldn't be exposed to-let alone witness-such shameful things."

Iris lowered her face, the weight of guilt settling heavily on her chest.

Bryanna shifted her focus to Vincent. "Can we expect results within a week?"

His reply was smooth, almost effortless. "Five days at the latest."

Iris's head snapped up in shock. What was he implying? Did he intend to let the truth come to light?

But it made sense. Once the scandal surfaced, everyone would assume she had thrown herself at him. After all, why would Vincent Stewart-a man with wealth, power, and status-ever lack female attention?

The tears in her eyes threatened to break free.

"The sooner, the better," Bryanna said, her voice edged with impatience. "I need to know which shameless woman had the audacity to do such a thing."

Women who used their beauty to manipulate men disgusted her.

She turned her attention to Iris, brows knitting together in disapproval. "Iris, Vincent is standing right here. Why are you still hiding under the covers? Get up."

Iris remained frozen in place. She couldn't move-not when she had nothing on beneath the blanket.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Bryanna stepped forward, pressing a hand to Iris's forehead. "You're burning up. And you're drenched in sweat."

Iris's heartbeat pounded so hard it rang in her ears.

This wasn't from a fever. This was Vincent's doing.

Vincent stood calmly, his posture unshaken, hands tucked neatly into his pockets. "She's on her period. Have the housekeeper bring her a heating pad and some hot drink."

Bryanna let out a frustrated sigh. "You should've told me instead of him. Men aren't supposed to be concerned about stuff like that."

Vincent's lips curled into a smirk. "It's okay. We're family."

Iris felt her composure slipping. He was enjoying this.

Bryanna withdrew her hand, letting out a light laugh. "It's good to see you two getting along. When Elianna joins the family, I hope you'll treat her just as well."

Vincent raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His silence spoke volumes.

Beneath the blanket, Iris gripped the sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned pale.

As Bryanna walked away with Vincent, she added, "Come, let's pick out a few gifts for Elianna. She should have something lovely the next time you see her."

For now, Iris had won a temporary reprieve. With only a week before the results were revealed, she had no choice but to return to school.

That day, Bryanna's call came. "Iris, come home. Now."

A deep sense of dread settled in Iris's chest. No matter how much she had wished for a different outcome, the moment she had been terrified of had finally come.

"Iris, come over and meet Elianna."

As soon as Iris entered the house, Bryanna was there to welcome her with a warm smile.

Elianna slowly raised her head, her innocent, wide eyes filled with unshed tears.

Bryanna let out a soft sigh, gently taking Elianna's hand. "What rich young man doesn't fall into the nightlife trap? Especially someone like Vincent."

Elianna snuffled, her voice wavering. "My brother told me Vincent was at a shady nightclub. I didn't believe it, so I went to check for myself. And there he was, surrounded by women."

Bryanna squeezed her hand gently. "You're seeing him now. You need to keep him in check."

Elianna buried her face in her hands, sobbing. "I begged him to leave with me, but he wouldn't listen."

Bryanna's brow furrowed. "Then let Clint bring him back."

Elianna shook her head. "Clint already tried. He won't budge."

Bryanna paused, thinking. Then she turned to Iris. "Iris, he might not listen to us, but he won't have the heart to turn down a younger girl like you. Go get him."

Iris nodded and started to leave.

"Take Clint with you," Bryanna called after her.

If there had been any other option, she wouldn't have sent Iris into a nightclub.

But Clint Tucker, the family's trusted driver, was dependable. With him there, she felt a little more at ease.

The club was alive with flashing lights, throbbing music, and wild indulgence. People clung to one another, lost in the chaotic excess of it all.

As Iris wove through the madness, hands reached out, trying to grab her as if she were just another prize.

Pushing open the door to the VIP lounge, she was hit by the scene before her.

Vincent lounged on the leather sofa, a cigarette hanging from his fingers, his other arm sprawled casually along the backrest.

A seductive woman sat on his lap, feeding him wine, the smoke curling around him like a veil.

Iris stood out-composed and dignified-amid the wild chaos.

Suddenly, the music stopped. All eyes snapped to Iris.

She took a step forward and said softly, "Uncle Vincent, Miss Dawson is waiting for you at home."

"Uncle?" A man's laugh echoed through the room, dripping with mockery. "Isn't this the orphan the Stewarts took in? She's grown up into quite the beauty, hasn't she?"

Iris met the man's gaze, immediately recognizing him-Connor Russell, the notorious son of Adrian Russell, a powerful official.

With his father's power behind him, Connor was spoiled and reckless.

No wonder Elianna was angry. There was nothing good to come from Vincent being involved with someone like Connor.

"What a stunner," Connor said leeringly, his eyes dark with desire. He lifted his glass and started toward Iris.

With a swift motion, he grabbed a lock of her hair, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. "Mmm... divine."

"Get lost!" Vincent rumbled menacingly, staring at Iris.

Iris felt a shiver run down her spine.

Connor smirked at Vincent, then leaned in closer, pressing the glass of wine to Iris's lips. "Since you're here, why not share a drink with me?"

Laughter rang around the room.

Then a loud crash followed as a wine bottle shattered, red liquid spilling across the floor as Vincent's companion screamed in shock.

Connor spun around, his face frozen in disbelief, blood trickling down his forehead.

Vincent discarded the broken bottle, wiping his fingers casually. "I give only one warning."

Only then did the others realize-the "get lost" had been meant for Connor.

Vincent pulled Iris into his embrace, his voice cold as he addressed the room. "Consider all deals cancelled. Stewart Group will no longer do business with any of you."

Shock swept through the everyone.

They had spent the entire night trying to convince Vincent to invest.

In an instant, it had all slipped away.

Vincent draped an arm around Iris's shoulders, teetering as he led her out.

Clint held the car door open. Vincent practically shoved Iris into the back seat of the car.

"To Skycrest Villas," he muttered, his voice husky, his body pressing against hers.

Skycrest Villas was the most exclusive enclave in town.

When it had first opened two years ago, even Bryanna couldn't secure a unit, despite her high connections. Yet Vincent had bought one with ease.

Vincent's hand slid up Iris's thigh, pushing past the slit of her dress. "I don't like you wearing such tight clothes."

His voice carried an edge of disapproval.

Iris turned her head away, deliberately ignoring the alcohol-laced scent of his breath. Calmly, she said, "Miss Dawson and Bryanna are waiting for you back at your family mansion."

"You really seem to have an attachment to that place," he murmured, his teeth brushing her earlobe, his warm breath sending a shiver across her skin.

A soft whimper escaped her before she could stop it. In a panic, she covered her mouth with her hand.

Although Clint was one of Bryanna's most trusted men, Vincent still did anything as he pleased.

The sudden ring of a phone shattered the silence. Vincent pressed Iris's hand down. "Don't answer it."

But Iris answered anyway.

Bryanna's voice crackled through. "Have you found Vincent?"

Outside, the night was thick with darkness, blurring the boundary between shadow and night.

Inside the car, Vincent became bolder.

The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the call.

The cool air stung Iris's thigh.

Vincent had torn her dress, his hand slipping where it shouldn't.

Iris fought to steady her voice. "Not yet..."

Vincent smirked, satisfied with her answer. His touch, rough just moments ago, turned unexpectedly gentle.

From the phone came the sound of Elianna's muffled sobs.

Bryanna said sharply, "Tell Vincent this-Elianna is still waiting for him. She won't leave until he comes back."

Without hesitation, Vincent snatched the phone from her hand and ended the call. Grabbing her chin, he crushed his lips to hers.

The scent of alcohol mixed with his familiar cologne flooded her senses.

Her body faltered, betraying her. A storm churned inside her.

Since she was a child, she had never lied to Bryanna.

But ever since Vincent had returned, she was forced to lie again and again.

The car rolled into Skycrest Villas.

Clint glanced in the rearview mirror at Iris's flushed face. "Mr. Stewart is drunk. Could you please help him inside?"

Vincent leaned heavily against her, appearing barely conscious.

Having no other choice, Iris helped him into the house.

Once they stepped inside, everything spun-before she could even react, she found herself wrapped in a strong, warm embrace.

Vincent paused, speaking to Clint. "You can take a month off. Go visit your family."

Clint understood at once, nodded, and drove off without question.

By the time Iris realized she had walked straight into a trap, it was too late.

Vincent shoved her onto the bed, pinning her beneath him.

Their first time had been at a gazebo.

Nervousness, pain, and unfamiliarity, all mixed with the fear of being caught.

This time, Vincent's breathing was just as ragged, but his movements were slower, more deliberate.

Iris soon discovered that intimacy wasn't only pain; beyond it, there was immense pleasure.

When morning arrived, Vincent was leaning back against the headboard, long fingers lazily twirling a card between them. A mocking smile tugged at his lips. "'In your smile, I find my light; with you, every day feels right.' How cheesy."

Iris made to snatch the card, but Vincent flicked it to the floor.

"Jayden Warren, huh? A student council president? Or is he just some scholarship kid from a struggling family?"

His voice was thick with sarcasm.

Iris stayed silent, quietly putting on her undergarments.

Jayden was the student council president-one of the university's brightest students.

But unlike her, he came from a privileged background. He was a true heir to wealth.

She never imagined he would confess his feelings to her. And worse-Vincent had found out about it now.

Iris bent, picked the card, and slipped it into her handbag.

Without glancing at her, Vincent flung a black card in her direction. "No limits. Spend however much you like."

Was this the compensation for a night with him? Iris set the credit card aside. "No need. I don't need money."