Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Dorrent’s Defensive Projection

The interior of the luxury transport was a sanctuary of climate-controlled silence as the vehicle glided away from the estate, merging into the sleek, elevated transit lanes that bypassed the congestion of the lower districts, Joanne settled into the plush seat beside Dorrent. She was a vision of curated perfection, her movements calculated to showcase the lines of her designer dress, her presence radiating the polished confidence of a woman who was paid to be looked at.

Dorrent sat rigidly, his hands resting on his knees, his mind still reeling from the psychological warfare Jannah had waged in the kitchen. The threat of the shaving machine felt like a phantom blade against his skin, a humiliating tether that he couldn’t seem to break.

"Dorrent, darling, you’re awfully quiet this morning," Joanne murmured, leaning into his space so that the scent of her expensive, floral perfume—something called Elysian Bloom—filled his senses. "Still stressed about the Hodin merger? You shouldn’t let work consume you so much. It takes the spark out of those gorgeous eyes."

Dorrent forced a tight, professional smile. "It’s a significant investment, Joanne. It requires my full attention."

Joanne hummed, a light, melodic sound. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a sleek, holographic tablet, scrolling through a series of high-fashion portfolios. "Speaking of attention... BeautyPass is in a bit of a frenzy. My agency is looking for fresh blood. The usual faces are becoming stale, and the creative directors are screaming for something ’raw’ and ’unrefined.’ Someone with a look that hasn’t been touched by the city’s vanity yet."

She turned her head, looking at him with a playful, expectant glint in her eyes. "You meet so many people, Dorrent. You have an eye for excellence. If you know anyone—anyone at all—who has that special spark, you must introduce them to me. The commission for finding a new star is astronomical, and I’d love to be the one to bring them in."

For a split second, an image flashed unbidden in Dorrent’s mind.

It wasn’t a tanned, curvaceous model in a silk gown. It was Jannah. He saw her as she had been the night before—splayed across the charcoal silk of her bed, her pale skin glowing under the moonlight, her dark hair a wild, tangled halo around a face that was sharp with defiance and soft with hidden vulnerability. He thought of the lean, elegant lines of her waist and the way her collarbones looked like delicate carvings in the dim light.

She could do it, a treacherous voice in his mind whispered. With the right lighting, the right clothes... she would be haunting.

But the thought was immediately followed by a wave of hot, defensive anger. He slammed the mental door shut on the image.

"I don’t know anyone," Dorrent said, his voice clipped and harsh. "And certainly no one suitable for a company like BeautyPass. Most people are... unremarkable."

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