Billionaire and His Scheming Beauty novel Chapter 2

A woman's languid voice rose from behind him.

Olivier turned around and saw the woman he had just bedded leaning against the bed. At first glance, she looked like a sensual goddess. On closely examining her features, he found himself wanting to see more. She was beautiful, mesmerizingly beautiful.

The quilt draped over her chest looked like it would fall away any moment.

Olivier showed no reaction. He strode towards her then stood by the bed, staring at her with an air of cold pride.

"This is your room?" He asked in a low, indifferent tone.

Fleur smiled sharply and met his gaze. "Yes. It seems I can now sue you for trespassing my suite and raping me?"

"Miss." Olivier's stare never wavered. "I was not so drunk I couldn't remember you had your arm around my waist in the first place. How did I rape you if you were the one who offered yourself to me in the first place?"

"..."

Fleur paused at that, then tried again. "You took my virginity." She lifted the quilt, revealing a patch of red on the stark white sheets.

Olivier remained unmoved. He did not even bother glancing at the blood. "You took mine. I guess we're even."

Fleur watched, stunned speechless, as Olivier headed for the exit.

As he reached the door, he turned around for a moment, eyes landing straight on the blood-red rose tattooed on Fleur's arm.

It was so lifelike it looked like it would leap off her skin.

Olivier's brow furrowed, eyes darkening with some realisation.

Fleur snorted with a laugh. "Look at me again and I'll have to charge you."

Olivier’s eyes met hers for a split second.

His eyes were incredibly keen, and behind them laid an incomprehensible depth. A chill shot straight down Fleur's spine.

......

Olivier's driver was still waiting downstairs when he came down to the lobby. The driver, Raoul, did not dare leave at his own will when Olivier had yet to return at such late an hour, so Raoul had been sleeping in the car all this while.

He shot up from his sleep just as the car door opened.

"Mr Martinez." The driver addressed Olivier, discreetly wiping away any traces of saliva.

Olivier grunted in greeting. He sat down at the back, legs splayed as the air conditioner did its magic to the air in the car. He massaged his temple for a moment before glancing towards the hotel.

Slowly, he massaged upwards along his forehead, finally releasing the tension on a particular wound-up knot.

After a moment, Olivier finally said, "Drive."