Sherryl Rain stood in the rain, her eyelashes dripping with the water that slid from her wet hair to her forehead, then down to her eyes. If she hadn't been sure before, now there was no doubt: the man who had bought her off the black market was a devil. Dallion was cold and evil, with no trace of humanity in his soul. It wasn't just the darkness that surrounded them—the rain blurred her vision, making it hard to tell weeds from plants. When she crouched down, pulling out weeds by mistake, she realized she had also yanked out some of the good plants, which Dallion had already planned to punish her for further. But, just as Dallion had said, the rain finally let up, leaving only the cold wind to lash against her, making her shiver in the drenched dress that clung to her body, heavy and cumbersome from all the water it had absorbed. Now able to see the garden more clearly, she glanced down at the ruined plants and grimaced internally. Kill me now, she thought. Hiding the good ones
Sherry was staring at Dallion, listening to his serious words about the plants in front of them. The topic had shifted from the weeds to the plants she had mistakenly pulled out. There was a certain earnestness in his voice, as if he had planted them himself. Narcissist, she thought. This was her punishment, but here he was, crouching next to her, though in far better condition. Her drenched clothes clung to her body, heavy with moisture, and she felt like she was freezing in the middle of winter. She glanced at his muddy hands, which were busy replanting the uprooted plant. "Did you get it?" he asked, flicking his hand across her forehead, sending specks of mud onto her nose. "Stop daydreaming and staring at me. I know I’m handsome." Narcissist man, Sherry thought again, only to see Dallion narrow his eyes as if he had heard her. Could he read her mind? She gulped when his intense gaze didn’t leave her face. "I apologize for my rudeness," she said, ducking her head, wishing his
The butler, Nickison was outside running his errands, trying to avoid the looming wrath of his boss, Dallion Cross, as he had failed to follow orders of watching over the room he'd locked Sherry in. When he reached the garage, he overheard the staff speaking loudly—a rare occurrence, as they usually spoke in hushed tones. The butler’s eyes widened at the mention of five hundred thousand dollars. He had heard that this girl was bought for a thousands of dollars, a rumor spread by the housekeeper who had, in turn, heard it from the security team. But five hundred thousand? Was this girl really worth that much? Was she made of diamonds? Nickison thought to himself, glancing at the girl who looked like she hadn't showered in days. The shock mirrored on the faces of the house staff before he composed himself and stepped into the garage, resuming his role of checking the new kitchen products that were brought . "Making a mess where cars are cleane
Sherry didn't object, but neither did she make a move for a good ten seconds. Seeing Dallion with his legs parted as he sat at the edge of the king-sized bed, she wondered what to do. "I can do it myself, Dallion. You don't have to," she said, her tone careful. If there was one thing she had learned during her punishment, it was that the rain didn’t matter when you were in it, but after, when the wind blew through drenched clothes, that was the true punishment. It made her shiver violently. The storm clouds still hung outside, ominous and dark. She couldn’t afford another round in the rain, and who knew what worse torment Dallion had in store for her if she defied him? The thought alone made her feel like she was walking on glass, afraid of each step. "Rubbish. I don’t want you catching a cold. Sit." His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument, while he waited with a towel in his hand. And whose fault was it? He had lef
It seemed like an open warning to her that this was what was going to happen if she ever tried to escape. Sherryl didn’t know if it was a mafia thing, but why did he want to keep her here? Was she just part of his amusement, something to toy with while he enjoyed threatening and terrifying her? He could have chosen any other captive, but, to her misfortune or maybe fortune, this man had bought her—not for a small price, but for thousands of dollars. When the door to the room was knocked upon, Dallion didn’t even bother looking up as he said, “Come inside, Nickison.” It seemed like he could tell who it was just by the sound of the knock or the timing. The butler entered, pushing a trolley of food. “Leave it here. Dismissed,” Dallion’s words were brief, and the butler didn’t stay a second longer than necessary. He stepped out, closing the door behind him. Sherryl eyed the food. It looked mouth-watering, and the smell was magnificent, making her stomach ru
It appeared that they were not only sharing the same bed but also the same blanket. Sherry gingerly lifted the covers and got inside the bed, making sure she stayed as far as she could from him. If she were to move further to her left, she would only fall flat on the sleek marble floor, cold and unforgiving. She had slept on this bed before, so she remembered how soft it was, but with Dallion next to her, she doubted she would be able to sleep soundly. Taking a quick glance at him, she noticed the glasses perched on his nose, something she hadn’t seen before. Did mafia bosses like him need glasses? How odd, Sherry thought to herself. Seeing that he was no longer talking to her and had immersed himself in reading, the man seemed somewhat calmer—his usual cold, intense aura replaced with something that seemed... reasonable. For now, at least. The dim lighting from the lamp on his nights
Sherry hurriedly dashed to the bathroom again, hoping she had escaped Dallion's watchful eye. She wondered if he had been awake the whole time. But then, his voice cut through her thoughts, “I give you a bed that’s custom-made, unrivaled in these parts of Bone lake city, and you say it was just okay?” Sherry quietly thanked her stars that he wasn’t speaking of what she feared. Maybe he had been asleep at the time. “A comfortable bed doesn’t assure anyone a good sleep. Sometimes a hard floor with freedom brings more satisfaction than the confinement of any room, no matter how luxurious the bed.” Sherry wasn’t trying to provoke him, but he had told her to speak freely what was on her mind the night before. Taking a small risk, she spoke a little bolder than usual this morning. Dallion’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he observed her defiance. This little mouse was still trying to run, unaware that her fate was already sealed. He’d let her believe there was hope, for now. But soon, s
Sherryl didn't understand his expression, subtly going back to eating her food while occasionally glancing at Dallion, who hadn't spoken about the matter. She didn’t understand the mafia families here. She had heard about celebrating birthdays, but celebrating the ones who had already passed away and weren’t even around? She didn’t know why they were still counting the years. Every once in a while, Sherryl glanced at him, and at one fine moment, Dallion’s eyes snapped at her, clearly annoyed by her constant stares. Sherryl quickly looked away. How could this man sense everything around him, as though he had invisible eyes at the back of his head? "Dallion, aren’t you going to take part in the celebration?" asked his stepmother, her voice sweet as sugar, making Sherryl twitch slightly. She could see why Dallion didn't get along with his stepmother and stepsister. They were overly sweet to the point of making her skin crawl. Their attitude, mixed with their superficial charm, didn't
Sherry's heart thundered in her chest as if she were prey, and the predator before her was ready to devour her completely. She swallowed hard, the soft glow of red lights in the room casting ominous shadows on the walls. Dallion’s voice was as smooth as dark velvet, low and commanding. “What’s got you so scared, little mouse?” “It’s going to hurt,” she whispered, the idea of his tools cutting through her barriers spiking her fear. He smirked, leaning closer, his towering frame enveloping her as he braced one hand on the leather-padded wall beside her head. “Do you know, Sherryl Rain? Even pain can turn into pleasure.” Her throat bobbed nervously. “The person must be a true masochist to think pain is a pleasure,” she shot back, trying to mask her trembling voice with forced confidence. A dark hum rumbled from his chest as he studied her, the corner of his lips quirking. “If you haven’t experienced it, you haven’t lived at all. Don’t be so tense.” His voice dipped lower as his fing
They left after Sherryl had settled scores with her foster family, in the car Dallion kept on staring at Sherryl something she found too odd. She knew Dallion loved looking at her face but not to the extreme he was looking at her at the moment. "Do you think I did something bad to them? Like I'm being unfilial to them?" She brushed her brows before looking at Dallion who was engrossed in looking at her. " I think I just got back at them for what they did to me, but I feel like a fool by stooping to their level." Sherryl didn't get any response from Dallion , not like she was expecting any answers from him anyway, she silently moved closer to the window and focused on the scenery outside, when they arrived at the mansion Dallion took her hand into his and led her. Dallion’s lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. as he looked at Sherryl closely, it seemed like they had arrived. This was another territory Sherryl had no idea of in the vast mansion of the Cross family. "True enou
Sherry Rain’s uncle, who had only just stepped inside, froze mid-step, his mouth opening but failing to form words. His expression mirrored the one her aunt, May, had worn upon seeing Sherry appear at their door, an uneasy combination of shock and guilt. They hadn’t expected her, and it was clear they had sold her. Sherry clenched her fists, questioning why she had agreed to come here, even with the gut feeling she’d had about what transpired the day she was sent to the Cross empire’s underground auction. "I don’t understand what you’re talking about, mister," her uncle, Larry, stammered, his voice faltering as Dallion shifted his cold, predatory gaze to him. Larry's throat bobbed as he gulped nervously but continued his charade. “Where have you been all this time? When we came back, you weren’t there… we assumed you ran off.” The man’s obliviousness to the barely veiled threat Dallion had issued to May earlier made his
Dallion’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, his expression almost mocking. “A fair question, little mouse. Life would be dreadfully boring if I skipped the theatrics every time. There are moments when it’s necessary to walk among the shadows, to breathe in the grit of this city. Skipping steps makes you lose touch. Besides…” He paused, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. “I enjoy the convoy rides. It’s the perfect time to plan moves, strategize... or just reflect.” “But there are limits,” he added, his tone dropping, the shift in his demeanor palpable. “Limits?” Dallion nodded, his expression growing serious. “The Time required to satisfy my need in settling accounts is immense. Blood is the fuel for such a gift. And let’s just say…” He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming as his voice dropped to a whisper, “…finding the right accounts I need from my debtors isn’
Sherryl walked to the edge of the leather couch, sitting down as the weight of her foster uncle and aunt's betrayal bore down on her. The thought that no one she had trusted as her family could be trusted left her feeling adrift. Her father had disappeared, her mother was gone, and now the only relatives she had left had sold her out. Across the room, Dallion leaned against the marble-topped bar, his piercing gaze fixed on her. His expression, unreadable yet intense, studied her carefully. “Are you alright?” Dallion asked, swirling a glass of amber liquor in his hand. Though his voice was calm, there was an underlying sharpness, as if he already knew her answer. “I’ll be okay,” Sherryl replied, drawing in a deep, shaky breath before releasing it slowly. "People like them aren’t worth a second thought,” Dallion said, setting the glass down wi
In the time of the early morning when Sherryl Rain had woken up from her restless sleep, she felt something wet on her feet. The sensation came again, tickling her skin, and just as she was about to dismiss it as part of a dream, the cool breeze from the cracked window grazed her bare legs, making her shiver. Half-asleep, she frowned, wondering if Dallion was up to one of his strange games again. Slowly, her groggy eyes fluttered open to find him still lying next to her, his breathing steady, and his eyes closed. A sharp lick on her foot jolted her fully awake. She yanked her leg back instinctively, pulling herself closer to the headboard. Her heart raced, and her sleepy mind struggled to make sense of it. Stretching her neck cautiously to see what was causing the strange sensation, her gaze landed on a large shadowy form at the foot of the bed. Her instincts screamed danger as she scrambled back, inadvertently yanking the blanket off Dallio
When they finally returned to the Cross Empire estate, the line of luxury cars that had been parked earlier because of the party had already cleared out. It had been hours since they left, and Sherryl felt drained. True to his word, Dallion had her seated in front of a polished chessboard, its black and white pieces gleaming under the warm light of the room. He patiently explained the game to her, taking his time to go through the basics. Despite his reputation for being short-tempered, he surprised her with how thoroughly he taught her, making sure she understood the moves. He left the room briefly, and by the time he returned, Sherryl was slumped over the edge of the board, her arm stretched out and her breathing steady. Her body remained stiff, as if ready to spring awake at the slightest noise. Closing the door quietly, Dallion approached the board and began putting th
Her heart raced at the subtle challenge in his voice. Swallowing hard, she tried to move to the far edge of the car. Dallion followed, shutting the space between them with a decisive smile. The small space felt suffocating as he pulled the window curtains closed, sealing them in. Sherryl stiffened when he reached for her face, his grip firm yet deliberate. “What are you—” Her words turned into a gasp as his lips brushed her lips. Before she could react, his teeth sank into her tongue.Sherryl’s gasp turned into a muffled whimper as Dallion’s teeth grazed her tongue with a deliberate sharpness, a mixture of pleasure and pain igniting her senses. She tried to pull back instinctively, but his firm grip on her face left no room for escape. His dark eyes bore into hers, daring her to resist, daring her to push him away, but her body betrayed her.The sensation of his lips moving against hers was magnetic, each kiss deepenin
Was she supposed to nod and smile, pretending to share his twisted sense of humor? Or should she keep quiet, blending into the car seat as if she were part of its upholstery? "Women who’ve tasted these lips don’t let go that easily," Dallion mused suddenly, his voice shifting to something almost playful. "They keep coming back. Even if I insult them, they can't resist. Masochists, wouldn’t you agree?" Sherry blinked, her mind scrambling for an answer. How was she supposed to comment on his past entanglements? But she could understand why women, even those with a semblance of self-respect, might flock to him. It wasn’t just his sharp jawline or commanding presence—it was the arrogance he wore like armor, daring anyone to challenge him. "Tell me, Sherry," Dallion’s tone turned curious, almost teasing. "What do you think people say about me? Through your eyes." He leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs casually, though his gaze pinned her like a hawk sizing up its prey. "It do