Chapter 53: No Words, Only Fire
Anna’s POV
Flowers. Goddamn too many flowers.
My office had transformed into some botanical nightmare overnight. Roses, lilies, orchids expensive arrangements with cards attached from men whose names I barely recognized from Skyview City’s social circuit. The scent was overwhelming, cloying sweetness that made my stomach turn.
"Ms. Shaw, another delivery just arrived," Rachel announced, her usual composure visibly tinged with disgust.
"This makes seventeen today."
I exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose as I stared at the latest monstrosity—an ostentatious arrangement of white roses and gold-painted leaves. The accompanying card offered to gift me a sports car, asking only for one night with me in return.
I felt nauseated. The online rumors about Samuel and me had unleashed a feeding frenzy. Apparently, Skyview City’s bachelors saw me as some prize to be claimed—a business asset with a conveniently attractive package.
"Get rid of them," I said, my voice sharp as a blade. "All of them. Please tell my assistant to stop accepting any deliveries."
Hours later, my phone vibrated on the desk. Catherine’s name flashed on the screen. I picked up, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continued typing.
"Catherine? What’s up?"
The response was a garbled mixture of slurred words and what sounded like glass clinking.
"Annie... need you..." Her words were nearly unintelligible.
I sat up straight, my full attention now on the call. "Catherine? Are you okay?
Where exactly are you?"
"Olympus Club... come quickly...
" The line went dead.
"Rachel!" I called, already grabbing my purse and coat. "We need to go to Olympus Club. Catherine’s—"
Just as I stepped through the doors of Olympus Club, I heard Catherine’s voice louder and more belligerent than I’d ever heard it.
"You pathetic excuses for men! Who the hell do you think you are?"
I followed the commotion to the far corner, where Catherine stood swaying slightly, pointing an accusing finger at a group of well-dressed men seated around a table. Champagne bottles and glasses littered the surface. I recognized one of the men as someone who had sent me flowers and invited me to dinner.
Catherine’s eyes were bright with fury, her clothes slightly disheveled. When she spotted me, her face lit up. "Annie!
There she is! The woman you’re all betting on like she’s a racehorse!"
My blood ran cold. Betting?
I approached slowly, Rachel following close behind. The men shifted uncomfortably, several unable to meet my gaze.
"What’s going on here?" I asked, my voice deliberately calm.
"Oh, Annie," Catherine laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. "These gentlemen have been having the most fascinating discussion about you." She picked up a champagne flute, draining it before continuing. "Apparently, there’s a betting pool. Who’ll be the first to get Anna Shaw into bed.
They’ve even set odds."
My expression remained unchanged, despite the disgust and rage flooding through me.
"It’s just a bit of fun," one of them offered weakly. "Nothing serious-"
Catherine pointed at him, her finger inches from his face: "LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND ASK YOURSELF IF YOU’RE WORTHY OF ANNA! You’re not even good enough to shine her shoes!"
The man’s face reddened with anger.
"Catherine, you crazy woman. If it weren’t for your father’s position, I’d have slapped you already."
In one fluid motion, Catherine climbed onto the table, champagne bottle in hand. "Try it, asshole! I dare you! I promise I won’t go crying to Daddy."
The men glanced nervously at each other, aware of the scene they were creating. The surrounding area had gone quiet, other patrons watching with undisguised interest.
Catherine swung the champagne bottle wildly, pointing it at each man in turn.
"Listen up, everyone. Anyone who thinks they’re going to pursue Anna has to go through me first."
To emphasize her point, she smashed the bottle against the edge of the table, sending glass and champagne spraying. Several men jumped back, their expensive suits now stained.
"Catherine," I said quietly, taking her arm. "Let’s go."
She allowed me to guide her down from the table, though her eyes never left the group of men. "Remember what I said," she snarled at them.
Rachel helped me maneuver Catherine into the back seat of my car. She collapsed against the leather, her head rolling back as the adrenaline seemed to drain out of her.
"Those vultures," she muttered, eyes half-closed. "Circling around you like you’re some kind of prize."
I arranged her more comfortably, gently moving her head to rest on my shoulder.
Before the driver could pull away, I rolled down my window and leveled one last cold stare at the group of men who had followed us outside. "Even your fathers show me respect when we meet. Who do you think you are?"
As we pulled away from the curb, Rachel spoke from the front seat, her voice low with concern. "Ms. Shaw, something doesn’t feel right about this.
It feels... orchestrated."
I nodded, absently stroking Catherine’s hair as she drifted off to sleep against my shoulder. "Find out who organized this betting pool. Whoever’s behind it will lead us to our answer."
Rachel nodded, already tapping notes into her phone.
I turned my gaze out the window, watching the glittering skyline of Skyview City pass by. The city I’d fought so hard to claim a place in now felt hostile, full of predators waiting for me to show weakness.
My thoughts drifted to my father.
Would these men have dared to disrespect me this way if he were still alive? Since his death, I’d fought an uphill battle to maintain that respect, to prove I was more than just a pretty placeholder.
At least my mother and grandmother remained insulated from the ugliness.
Later that night, as I was finally settling into bed, my phone lit up with a text from my contact in Sapphire Sky Hotel Room 3303.
(Available?)
Despite my exhaustion and lingering anger, I felt a flicker of interest.
[Yes) I replied simply.
The hallway of Sapphire Sky Hotel’s exclusive top floor was quiet as I made my way to Room 3303. I knocked once, and the door opened immediately.
The suite was dimly lit, with just enough light to make out the familiar silhouette of my anonymous partner.
As I stepped inside, he moved toward me, his hand gently cupping my face as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine in a surprisingly intimate gesture.
I pulled back, uncomfortable with the tenderness. "Skip the romance," I said coldly. "That’s not what this is about."
I kept my emotions carefully compartmentalized as I reached for his shirt buttons. This was just physical-a transaction of pleasure, nothing more. No different from a vigorous workout session to release endorphins.
As his hands moved over my body with practiced skill, I allowed myself to drift into sensation, letting the stress and humiliation of the day dissolve into something simpler, more primal.
Marcus’s POV
I stood in the shadows of room 3303, watching as she entered. The soft click of the door closing behind her seemed to seal us into our own private world, separate from the reality waiting outside.
She walked toward me, her silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of the bedside lamp. I stepped forward, my hand naturally reaching to cup her face, drawing her closer until our foreheads touched. This was an intimate gesture that felt natural to me but clearly crossed some invisible boundary she’d established.
She immediately pulled back, her eyes hardening. "Skip the romance," she said coldly. "That’s not what this is about."
Something inside me ignited—a sharp, burning anger that threatened to consume my carefully maintained control. I flew across the damn Atlantic for her, and this is how she receives me? As if I were nothing more than a convenient body, a transaction, a goddamn service provider.
I swallowed the rage building in my throat, knowing I couldn’t speak. One word—a single syllable-and she’d recognize me instantly.
Her fingers worked at my shirt buttons with mechanical efficiency. I captured her hands, stilling them against my chest where she could surely feel the thunderous beating of my heart.
I brought my mouth down on hers with more force than necessary, pouring every ounce of my frustration and desire into the kiss. She responded immediately, her body arching against mine as if we were opposite poles of a magnet, drawn together by forces neither of us fully understood or controlled.
For nearly three hours, I lost myself in her—in the familiar curves of her body, the rhythm of her breathing, the small sounds she made when pleasure overwhelmed her. All while maintaining my silence, communicating only through touch, through the language our bodies had quickly learned to speak to each other.
Afterward, I watched as she drifted off to sleep, her features softening in a way they never did when she was awake. The mask of Anna Shaw, formidable businesswoman, slipped away to reveal just... Anna.
Vulnerable. Beautiful.
I dressed silently in the dark, pausing at the door to look back at her sleeping form. Then I was gone, disappearing into the night as if I’d never been there at all.
Joseph’s apartment carried the distinct atmosphere of a bachelor with expensive taste—with a sound system that probably cost more than most people’s cars.
I didn’t bother to knock. The key he’d given me years ago still worked, and I pushed the door open with more force than necessary, slamming it shut behind me.
Joseph emerged from his bedroom in loungewear, hair disheveled, eyes wide with surprise. "Marcus? What the hell are you doing back in Skyview? Don’t tell me Anna remarried?"
He glanced at the door behind me with a wince. "Is my door okay? Next time could you not slam my door when you’re angry? It hasn’t offended anyone."
I brushed past him. "Don’t tell anyone I’m back. I’ll be staying here for now."
Joseph blinked, processing my words.
"Staying here? Where’s Peter?"
"I came alone," I replied, my voice clipped with exhaustion and lingering anger.
"What? You came back alone? What’s so urgent? Are you out of your mind?" His eyebrows shot up in genuine shock.
"You talk too much." I loosened my tie, not in the mood for his characteristic volley of questions.
Joseph studied me for a moment, eyes narrowing in sudden understanding.
"Wait, you didn’t come back for that betting scandal, did you? You’re here because of Anna’s trending topic?"
My head snapped up, eyes locking onto his. "What betting scandal?"
Joseph held up his hands as if surrendering. "So you don’t know.
should’ve known you wouldn’t be scrolling through social media." He moved to the refrigerator, pulling out two beers and handing one to me.
"Remember those photos of Anna and Samuel leaving the charity gala together? Well, someone made sure they went viral."
I took the beer without drinking it, waiting for him to continue.
"But that’s not all," Joseph went on, dropping onto the sofa across from me. "Yesterday at Olympus Club, some men from Skyview were exposed for running a betting pool on who’d be the first to get Anna into bed."
My fingers tightened around the bottle, nearly crushing it. "And Olympus Club allowed this?"
Joseph grimaced. "That’s the thing—it seemed to pop up overnight. Almost... orchestrated. It has to be someone with a grudge against Anna. Both the trending topic and yesterday’s sudden betting pool seem designed to ruin her reputation. Whoever’s orchestrating this is ruthless. You wouldn’t believe it —they’ve even set up betting at Olympus Club. The pot was up to $1million last night."
"Is that so?" My voice came out deceptively calm, but inside, I was already calculating, analyzing, planning.