Undercover Tamer

1 I earned a six-figure salary working as an undercover handler for the city’s top elite heir, specifically hired to use love to tame his wild, rebellious younger brother. I ran this gig for three years with zero negative reviews. Until today, at the drag strip, when he pushed me aside for a girl in a white cotton dress. My heart sank. Not out of heartbreak, but out of pure agony for my about-to-be-lost double salary. I immediately turned around and emailed his older brother my resignation letter. Three minutes later, the elite heir himself locked down the entire mountain racing pass. … The night wind along the mountain pass blew hard, making my eyes sting. Taking advantage of the moment, I squeezed out two precise tears and gripped the edge of Zach’s racing suit. “Zach, don’t go,” I whimpered, pitching my voice to a perfectly delicate tremolo. “This mountain pass is way too dangerous, I’m really scared…” I knew this routine like the back of my hand. For three years, whenever my eyes turned red, this stubborn mule of a guy would soften up instantly. He would curse under his breath, toss his car keys aside, shove me into the passenger seat, and drive me home like a good boy to drink warm milk. But tonight, something was off. Zach didn’t wrap his arm around me like he usually did. Instead, his brow furrowed, his eyes skipping right over my shoulder toward the far side of the bleachers. I followed his line of sight and took a quick peek. Holy crap, I cursed in my head. Standing in the corner of the bleachers was a girl wearing a faded white cotton dress. She wore no makeup at all, looking like a delicate white lotus swaying in the wind among a sea of heavily painted party girls. What was most fatal was her expression: three parts stubbornness, three parts defiance, and four parts absolute martyr-like stoicism. We were doomed. Alarm bells blared in my mind. This girl had just flipped the young master’s “true love” switch. “Sienna, be a good girl,” Zach said, pulling my fingers away one by one. His motion wasn’t harsh, but it was absolute. He casually put a cigarette between his lips, leaning down close with a wicked smirk. “Don’t worry, your man’s driving skills are top-tier. I’m taking the prize in tonight’s race no matter what.” I glanced in the direction he pointed. The so-called prize was that girl in the white dress. Word on the street was that her brother owed loan sharks a fortune, and she had been dragged to the drag strip as a betting chip. Whoever won the race got to take her home. What a cliché storyline. What a dramatic trope. If this were any other day, I would have bought a bag of sunflower seeds and crouched by the curb to enjoy the show. But right now, I couldn’t bring myself to smile. Because this meant my personal cash cow was about to break out of the pasture. Zach threw on his helmet and slid into his flashy red sports car without looking back. The engine let out a deafening, throaty roar. The surrounding trust-fund bros began to cheer wildly. “Zach’s the man!” “Risking it all for a pretty face!” “Hey Sienna, looks like your official girlfriend status is expired! Can’t even keep your man on a leash!” A few socialite girls who had always disliked me sidled up to throw mocking jabs. I kept my head low, my shoulders trembling in rhythm. To them, I looked like a heartbroken girl weeping in despair. In reality, I was fighting with everything I had to hold back a burst of laughter while frantically clicking an imaginary abacus in my head. My name is Sienna. I am a professional hired companion. To be precise, I was a high-priced “wild animal trainer” employed by the eldest heir of the Sinclair family, Xavier Sinclair. Zach was the wild animal I was assigned to manage. Three years ago, Zach was a chaotic nightmare who spent his days getting into street fights, drag racing, and hitting nightclubs. Old Mr. Sinclair was so enraged he nearly suffered a heart attack. When Xavier took over the family conglomerate, his very first order of business was to clean up family discipline. However, running a multi-billion-dollar empire left him zero time to babysit his rebellious younger brother. So, he found me. “I will pay you fifty thousand dollars a month,” Xavier had said, sitting behind his leather executive desk, handing me a contract with an icy expression. “Your task is to make him fall in love with you, then use his love-addled brain to keep him in line. No drag racing, no brawling, no negative press headlines. As long as he smoothly finishes his college degree and enters the company as an intern, I will pay you a five-million-dollar completion bonus in one lump sum.” I looked at that long string of zeros and signed my name on the spot. Are you kidding me? A base salary of fifty thousand a month! And that wasn’t even counting the pocket money, designer bags, and jewelry Zach bought me on the side. Drawing two paychecks for one job was the absolute pinnacle of corporate grinding. For three years, I performed my duties with absolute dedication. I played the sweet, fragile, helpless working-class college girl to perfection, completely captivating Zach. For my sake, he quit smoking and drinking. He even dyed his bleached yellow hair back to natural black. Every single day, he picked me up from class right on time and spent his weekends sitting quietly with me in the university library. The entire elite social scene gossiped about how the wild second prince of the Sinclair family had been completely tamed by a commoner girl. Xavier was immensely satisfied with my job performance, even handing me annual bonuses twice. With just six months left until Zach’s college graduation, that five-million-dollar final bonus was practically waving at me. And then tonight, out of nowhere, Zach had a sudden brain short-circuit and insisted on coming to the mountain pass with his bad influences, running straight into Isla, the delicate white lotus. The red sports car shot out like an arrow off a bowstring, its taillights cutting a streak of crimson through the dark night. I let out a soft sigh, dropping the tearful act. Reaching into my Hermès bag, I pulled out my secondary phone, opened the messaging app, and located the solid black profile picture. Boss, we have an emergency, I typed rapidly. Target Number Two has encountered an uncontrollable emotional variable. In layman’s terms, his affection has shifted. My tear strategy is no longer effective. To avoid the embarrassment of getting kicked out, I am requesting to terminate my contract early. My formal resignation has been sent to your email. How will this month’s salary and my severance package be calculated? After sending the message, I let out a long breath of relief. A professional knows when to hold on and when to let go. Although losing that five-million-dollar final bonus stung a little, I had saved up a massive fortune over the past three years. It was more than enough for me to buy a luxury villa back in my hometown and live a comfortable life hiring a few handsome young personal assistants. My phone vibrated almost instantly. Xavier replied in seconds with just two icy words: Location. I blinked, quickly dropping the live pin of the drag strip into the chat. No further response came from his end. Leaning against the bleacher railing, I blew idly into the cold night wind, mentally rehearsing how to wrap up the scene later. Zach was guaranteed to win the race. He was, after all, a semi-professional champion driver. When he returned victorious with his new girl, what posture should I adopt? Should I hysterically demand why he betrayed me? Or should I put on a brave face, wish him happiness, and walk away into the dark? Which approach would squeeze a larger breakup payout out of him? While I was deliberating, the roar of an engine echoed from the far end of the mountain road. The red sports car crossed the finish line first, pulling off a gorgeous drift before coming to a firm halt in the center of the crowd. Zach pushed the door open and stepped out. Tossing his helmet aside, he casually ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. That arrogant, wild demeanor was admittedly quite attractive to younger girls. The crowd erupted into wild cheers. The trust-fund bros who had set up the bet walked forward with sour expressions. “Zach, you won,” the leader said through grit teeth. Zach let out a cold smirk, walking straight past them to the corner of the bleachers, grabbing Isla’s wrist in a firm grip. “She’s coming with me,” he declared. “Her brother’s debt is completely wiped clean.” Isla struggled against his grip without success. Raising her head, her eyes rimmed red, she glared at him. “I don’t need your pity! I’ll pay off my brother’s debt myself!” Wow, look at those lines, I thought. Absolute perfection. Zach was clearly eating up every bit of it. The smirk on his face deepened. “Pay it back yourself? With what? From today on, you belong to me. Be good, listen to me, and don’t make me angry.” I watched from the side with immense entertainment, practically wanting to play background music for their romantic drama. That was until Zach dragged Isla straight over to stand in front of me. The surrounding air went instantly dead quiet. Everyone stared at me with expectant, drama-hungry eyes. I quickly pinched my own thigh hard, forcing two fresh tears to well up in my eyes. “Zach…” I raised my head, my voice trembling and my eyes filled with shattered grief. “Who is she?” Zach looked at me, a brief flash of guilt flickering across his eyes before being replaced by cold detachment. “Sienna, let’s break up,” he said, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. “I’ve treated you well over the last three years. Everything you wanted, I bought for you. You should be satisfied. I only just realized that what I felt for you before wasn’t love at all. I just appreciated that you were obedient and sensible.” He squeezed Isla’s hand tightly. “It wasn’t until I met her that I truly understood what real heart-fluttering passion feels like.” I had to suppress a massive urge to roll my eyes. Dude, you literally just met her for the first time tonight! What in the world is ‘real passion’?! You’re just attracted to a pretty face, stop acting like a tragic romantic hero! Still, on the surface, I had to finish my performance. I stumbled back two steps, my face turning deathly pale as if I were about to collapse. “I don’t believe you…” I bit my lip hard, tears rolling down my cheeks in heavy droplets. “You said you would marry me! You said we’d get married right after graduation!” Zach knit his brows, growing visibly impatient. “Sienna, stop making a scene. Let’s part on good terms. Tomorrow I’ll have my assistant wire two million dollars to your account, and you can keep the downtown condo. Don’t come looking for me anymore.” Two million dollars in cash plus a prime downtown luxury condo! My heart bloomed with pure joy. What an absolute win! Severance pay from the boss plus a breakup payout from the younger brother—I was stepping directly into financial freedom! Just as I was preparing to take the graceful exit, pretend to weep uncontrollably, and make my grand departure, a massive deafening roar sounded from directly above our heads. Gales of wind whipped up dust and gravel from the asphalt, blinding everyone on the ground. Everyone looked up in sheer terror. Three sleek black helicopters hovered directly above the racing strip. Blinding searchlights cut through the dark like sharp blades, illuminating the entire venue as bright as midday. Immediately after, a convoy of over a dozen black Maybachs roared up from both ends of the mountain pass, their sharp screeching brakes echoing in unison to completely seal off every exit. The crowd erupted into chaotic panic. “What on earth is happening?!” “Is it a police raid?!” “Raid my ass! Look at those license plates!” Zach’s expression shifted drastically as well. Subconsciously shielding Isla behind his back, he stared fixedly at the lead Maybach. The car door opened. Dozens of bodyguards dressed in sharp black suits and wearing earpieces filed out in swift precision, forming two disciplined lines. A tall man wearing a custom black trench coat stepped out of the vehicle. His figure was lean and commanding, his features carved with cold perfection. An aura of absolute, long-standing authority radiated from his very presence. Just standing there, he caused the surrounding temperature to drop to freezing point. Xavier Sinclair. My cold, ruthless, capitalist employer. Why on earth had he come here in person? I stood frozen in place, completely forgetting my fake crying routine. Xavier took long, deliberate strides, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the asphalt. Without sparing a single glance at the trembling trust-fund heirs around us, he walked straight toward our group. Zach swallowed hard, his voice tight. “Brother… why are you here?” He assumed Xavier had come to drag him back home. The Sinclair family discipline was notoriously brutal, and if the old patriarch found out he was drag racing at night over a woman, his legs would be broken. Zach grit his teeth, puffing out his chest defiantly. “Brother, I take full responsibility for my own actions! I set up tonight’s race! It has nothing to do with Isla! Whatever you want to do, direct it at me, don’t touch her!” His heroic, protective stance really carried the dramatic aura of a romance male lead. Behind him, Isla stared at Xavier with eyes filled with deep hostility and suspicion. 2 She looked as though she were staring at an evil villain trying to tear true lovers apart. Xavier halted his footsteps. His gaze swept indifferently over Zach, then flicked past Isla. That look was identical to staring at two irrelevant ants. He didn’t even bother uttering a single word to Zach. Stepping right past them, he walked directly up to me. My heart tightened violently. Oh crap. Was the boss here to personally execute my account? Did he think I had failed to manage his brother properly and come to demand liquidated damages? My brain frantically calculated excuses. “Boss, let me explain…” I lowered my voice to a whisper meant strictly for his ears. “This really isn’t my fault. It’s an uncontrollable force of nature. About that two-million-dollar severance…” Xavier looked down at me from his superior height, his dark eyes swirling with a depth I couldn’t decipher. Suddenly, he raised his hand. I flinched back, instinctively shrinking my neck thinking he was going to strike me. Instead, his hand landed gently on the top of my head, softly smoothing down my wind-ruffled hair. “I didn’t approve your resignation,” Xavier said, his voice deep and raspy, carrying a barely perceptible trace of a chuckle. “Since Target Number Two has failed…” He leaned down, his breath brushing against my ear as he whispered in an intensely seductive tone, “…we launch Project Number One.” I froze, staring at him in complete bewilderment. “What is Project Number One?” Xavier unbuttoned his trench coat with slow precision, draping it over my shoulders. It carried his faint, crisp scent of cedar. Leaning closer until his lips nearly brushed mine, he murmured, “Me. Double your monthly salary, ten-million-dollar completion bonus. Sienna, now it’s your turn to manage me.”

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