Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15: A Lethal Leverage

The morning sun bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the estate, casting long shadows across the white marble floors. Jannah sat at the massive dining table, her small frame swallowed by the high-backed velvet chair. She poked at her breakfast—a spread of exotic fruits and delicate pastries that felt like ashes in her mouth—while her mind replayed the venomous exchange from the night before.

The silence of the hall was shattered by the clicking of high heels.

Joanne walked in like a gale of summer wind. She was breathtaking—a vision of golden-tanned skin, honey-blonde waves, and a dress that clung to every lush, expensive curve of her body. She was the literal embodiment of the "type" Dorrent had taunted Jannah with hours earlier. Joanne moved with the practiced ease of someone who belonged in rooms this grand, her eyes sweeping over the dining hall with a casual, regal indifference.

Her gaze landed on Jannah. Her perfectly manicured eyebrows arched in a look of mild, unconcerned curiosity.

"And who are you?" Joanne asked, her voice like silk over glass. She didn’t wait for an answer, her eyes already drifting toward the grand staircase as if Jannah were nothing more than a piece of misplaced furniture.

Before Jannah could even part her lips to speak, a deep, resonant voice cut through the air from above.

"She’s a new house maid, Joanne. Don’t mind her."

Dorrent was descending the stairs, looking every bit the untouchable S-tier CEO in a charcoal three-piece suit. His hair was perfectly styled, his jaw clean-shaven, and his expression a mask of cool, professional detachment.

Joanne’s face lit up with a predatory glow. She didn’t wait for him to reach the bottom; she met him at the base of the stairs, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight, possessive hug. "Good morning, Dorrent," she purred, her voice dipping into an intimate, flirtatious register. "You look absolutely delicious today."

Jannah watched, her grip tightening on her silver fork. Dorrent didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean into the embrace either. He stood rigid, his arms resting casually on Joanne’s waist, his gaze sliding over her shoulder to lock onto Jannah’s. His eyes were cold—deadly cold—flashing a warning so sharp it felt like a physical slap. Don’t. Say. A. Word.

He knew Jannah held the one secret that would shatter the image he had spent years cultivating. To Joanne, Dorrent was the ultimate prize—the powerful, virile alpha who was simply playing hard to get. She had no idea that the man she was clinging to was a hollow king, a master of a domain he couldn’t actually rule.

"Sit," Dorrent commanded softly, gently detaching Joanne’s hands from his neck. "We have a busy day ahead."

He moved to the head of the table, taking a seat as far away from Jannah as possible. Joanne followed him like a moon caught in his orbit, sliding into the chair right next to him. The breakfast continued in a thick, artificial silence. Joanne chattered about a gala in the upper district, her hand occasionally brushing Dorrent’s arm, while Dorrent responded with polite, clipped sentences, his eyes never leaving Jannah for more than a second.

Jannah couldn’t take it anymore. The hypocrisy of it—the way he paraded this woman while treating Jannah like filth—made her blood boil. She stood up abruptly, the legs of her chair scraping against the marble with a jarring screech.

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