Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Not His Type

Guron clapped a hand to his chest, a dry, hollow laugh escaping him. "Wise choice, Jannah! Truly wise. Your grandfather will be in the central district clinic before the sun sets today. He will receive the finest care in the city."

Guron gestured toward the open car door. "Perhaps you’d like an hour? To gather your things? To... change into something more appropriate?"

"No," Jannah said, her eyes locked onto Dorrent’s furious face. She felt a sick sense of satisfaction seeing the vein in his temple pulse. "I’m ready now. I don’t need anything from this place but my satchel."

Dorrent’s jaw tightened so hard his teeth audibly grinded. "Father, you cannot be serious. You expect me to share a cabin with this?" He gestured to Jannah as if she were a pile of refuse. "How is she meant to travel? Which transport is she using?"

Guron smiled, a thin, sharp-edged expression. "She is your personal physician, Dorrent. She will sit right next to you in the back of the car. It’s time you two became... acquainted."

"No way," Dorrent snarled, his pheromones exploding in a wave of bitter, jagged frost that made the air hurt to breathe. "She probably stinks of cheap herbs. I will not have my upholstery ruined by her filth."

Guron ignored his son’s outburst with the practiced ease of a man who always got his way. He stepped past Dorrent and held the door open for Jannah, bowing slightly in a gesture that was more mocking than respectful. "After you, Doctor Nenth."

Jannah didn’t hesitate. She climbed into the car, her rough dress snagging on the butter-soft leather, her muddy boots leaving a dark smear on the pristine floor mat. She sat down and stared straight ahead, her heart thundering against her ribs.

Dorrent stood outside the car, his face contorted in a mask of such intense loathing it was almost monstrous. He looked at his father, then at the girl sitting in his seat, and let out a harsh, guttural sound of pure rejection.

"I am not sitting next to her," Dorrent spat, his voice trembling with the force of his ego. "Drive her yourself, Father. I’ll take a cab."

He slammed the car door shut from the outside, the impact shaking the entire frame of the vehicle, and turned his back on them, stalking away into the smog of the ghetto without a single backward glance.

Jannah sat in the silence of the luxury car, a dark, cold smile finally touching her lips.

"Stop the drama, Dorrent."

Guron’s voice didn’t rise in volume, but it carried a lethal, icy precision that cut through the humid smog of 3rd Street like a guillotine. He stood by the open door of the luxury transport, his eyes fixed on his son’s retreating back with a look of profound disappointment.

"Get in the car," Guron continued, his tone dropping into a dangerous low. "Or the investment deal with Hodin Oil—the project you’ve spent the last eighteen months bleeding for—is over. I will pull the Grefo signature before the market opens tomorrow morning."

Dorrent froze. His broad shoulders remained tensed, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the lapels of his navy suit jacket. The silence that followed was suffocating. For a moment, the only sound in the alley was the distant, rhythmic dripping of a rusted pipe.

She watched through the tinted glass as the S-tier alpha struggled with his own pride. The Hodin Oil merger was the cornerstone of Gammar Technology’s expansion; to lose it would be a catastrophic blow to Dorrent’s legacy. Slowly, agonizingly, Dorrent turned around. His face was a mask of cold, suppressed fury, his jaw set so tight it looked as if it might shatter.

Without a word, he stalked back to the vehicle. He reached for the front passenger door, but Guron moved with surprising speed, blocking the handle.

"In the back," Guron commanded, gesturing to the seat next to Jannah.

"I am in the car, Father," Dorrent hissed, his eyes flashing a dangerous, volatile crimson. "Does it truly matter which piece of leather I sit on?"

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