When I rescued young entrepreneur Adrian Pierce from his creditors, he was in a complete mess. But it was nothing compared to how devastated I was when he ruined my family years ago. I pinned his hands behind his back against the floor-to-ceiling window of the hotel room, shattering his pride mercilessly. He cried, saying he hated me. “Hate me then,” I whispered, kissing away the tears rolling down his cheeks, as gentle as a loving partner. The Venetian Grand Hotel. Looking down from the presidential suite’s window, the streets were bustling with traffic. The streetlights below had come on, resembling a string of golden jewels winding through the vast cityscape shrouded in darkness. In the distance, neon lights reflected on the face of the man by the window, flickering like cheap makeup, both eerie and gaudy. Adrian Pierce’s face was pressed against the glass, his hands tied behind his back, half-kneeling in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, occasionally letting out a whimper. When I had brought Adrian here, he had struggled fiercely, earning himself a few punches and kicks. His expensive suit was now torn in several places. Standing behind him, I admired his disheveled state for a moment before chuckling and removing the gag from his mouth. “Does Mr. Pierce have anything to say?” I asked mockingly. As air finally rushed into his mouth, Adrian gasped for breath but still tried to put on a brave face. “You… aren’t you afraid I’ll call the police?” I laughed softly as if I’d heard a good joke. “If you dared to call the police, why have you been hiding for so long?” I leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “You can try calling them. Let’s see who gets locked up first – me, or you being torn to pieces by your creditors.” My hot breath tickled Adrian’s ear as I spoke lazily. I saw him trying to dodge away, his skin behind the ear trembling. “What do you want from me?” Adrian asked, both confused and wary. I clicked my tongue twice, feigning a grieved tone. “Mr. Pierce, why put it so harshly? This isn’t ‘kidnapping’. I merely invited you for a reunion. It’s been many years since we last met, hasn’t it, Uncle Adrian?” I deliberately dragged out the words “Uncle Adrian,” putting on a nostalgic expression. Hearing these words, Adrian’s heart skipped a beat. He thought to himself, “So it’s finally come to this.” He tried to steady himself and softened his tone, “Lily, what happened back then… I didn’t expect things to turn out that way. But… the money I’ve been sending over these years was for your education. Seeing you doing well now, Uncle Adrian… can finally feel at ease.” Lily was my childhood nickname. Years ago, when Adrian worked for my father, he would occasionally see me visit and call me by this name with a smile, secretly slipping chocolates I loved into my little backpack. The gentle and refined Uncle Adrian appeared in my teenage years like a ray of sunlight in a forest, fulfilling all my fantasies about the word “beautiful.” And now I saw this beam of light kneeling in a patch of shadow, struggling to keep his back straight, trying to maintain some composure. “Didn’t expect…” I repeated softly, a smile curling at the corners of my mouth. “After my father went bankrupt, he ended up in a psychiatric hospital. My mother remarried, taking my younger brother with her, leaving 14-year-old me alone in a boarding school in America. Your ‘didn’t expect’ certainly absolves you of all responsibility, doesn’t it, Uncle Adrian?” Adrian was momentarily speechless. “But don’t worry, I’m not here for revenge,” I said, taking out a wine glass and slowly pouring some red wine. “I haven’t touched a cent of the money you sent. Just now, I used it to pay off part of your debts. As for the rest, there’s no rush. After all, there are still ten days until the deadline on the promissory note you signed for your creditors.” This confused Adrian even more. He tried to turn his head, pressing against the glass, wanting to read something from my expression. But constrained by the ropes, he could only turn half his body towards me. “You paid my debts? Why?” “I want to make a deal with you, Mr. Pierce.” “What kind of deal?” I didn’t rush to answer. Instead, I picked up the wine glass, took a small sip, then crouched down, smiling as I looked at Adrian. My gaze traveled from his long legs, narrow waist, the hint of collarbone peeking out from his shirt collar, his sexy Adam’s apple, and finally settled on his thin lips. Then, to his astonishment, I kissed him. Our lips and teeth intertwined in a passionate dance. Dark red wine trickled down the corners of our tightly pressed mouths, flowing over Adrian’s fair chin and neck, disappearing into the depths of his shirt. When the kiss ended, we were both breathless.
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