A single door felt like a divider between two worlds. Inside, crystal chandeliers hung high, scattering tempting, almost blinding light. Onstage, men and women moved with the bass, bodies rubbing close, everything drenched in drunken desire.

Celeste Crawford stared at the wild crowd with detached calm, lifting her pale wrist in a lazy arc and tipping the seductive liquor past her lips.

She let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Aren’t bars supposed to make you forget all the crap in your life? Why am I getting more sober the more I drink?”

The chaos she’d witnessed earlier was still painfully clear in her mind—clothes tossed everywhere, men and women tangled together, the air thick with lust.

She finished her drink in one go. Just then, a polished-looking man appeared in her line of sight, like some young aristocrat. He smiled, eyes swimming with sleaze. “Miss, sitting alone is boring, isn’t it? How about giving me the honor of a dance?”

A thin layer of impatience flickered in Celeste’s gaze. Her smile was light, almost perfunctory. “Sorry, not interested.”

“How would you know if you don’t try?” He stepped closer, reeking of alcohol, voice low with obvious intent. “If things go well, we might even enjoy a great night together.”

He winked, the gesture blatantly suggestive.

After everything that had happened tonight, Celeste did want someone—but definitely not him.

Her expression chilled instantly, every line of her face sharpening into cold beauty. “Are you deaf? I said I’m not interested.”

“Damn.”

Being rejected again lit the man’s fuse. His voice turned vicious, simmering with anger. “Who do you think you are? Don’t make me teach you a lesson.”

His gaze roamed openly over Celeste’s figure, lips curling in a hungry grin. His tone carried smug threat. “Go ask around about Mr. Parker in Xicheng District. You catching my eye is your blessing. Behave and keep me company—maybe you’ll get something good out of it. Otherwise…”

He reached out, trying to grab her.

But before his hand could touch her, another man intercepted him. A firm palm stopped him mid‑air with sharp precision. The newcomer’s tailored black suit framed him with quiet nobility.

His voice was calm and low. “That’s not okay. Bullying a woman doesn’t make you a man.”

Mr. Parker winced, bending over from the pain, spitting out curses. “Who the hell are you? Think you can meddle in my business?”

“Shut up.”

The man lifted his eyes, giving one cold look—silent but crushingly intimidating.

Mr. Parker looked like he wanted to throw out another insult, but the man brought down a precise hand strike, knocking him out cold on the floor.

The commotion was neither too loud nor too quiet, drawing little attention from others. Celeste Crawford remained unfazed.

The man stared at Celeste for a few seconds before leisurely pulling out his phone from his pocket. He made a call, his voice carrying an air of nobility: "Bring some people over."

In less than three minutes, the man who called himself Mr. Parker was escorted out.

A server from the bar approached Celeste to apologize, his attitude respectful: "I'm terribly sorry, miss. The inconvenience caused to you was Hell Bar's mistake. To make amends, all your drinks tonight are on the house. I—"

Before he could finish, Celeste stood up. Her high heels clicked against the floor with measured weight as she raised her eyebrows and walked straight toward the man from earlier.

Standing under the lights, the man cut a refined figure—a perfect gentleman. His handsome, flawless features complemented his overall demeanor. Every gesture carried an elegant, gentlemanly grace.

He didn't look like a Hell Bar employee at all.

Rather, he seemed like someone accustomed to positions of power.

"Hello."

Extending her pale hand, Celeste tilted her head with a slight smile. Her voice was cool, devoid of warmth: "Thanks for what you did just now. Would I have the honor of buying you a drink?"

A hint of amusement flickered in his dark eyes as the man's thin lips curved upward: "You want to buy me a drink?"

"Of course."

Celeste nodded matter-of-factly, her eyes narrowing with a lazy smile: "Not just a drink. If you're free later, maybe we could spend a pleasant evening together."

So she was planning to...

The young woman before him—still in her business blazer, perhaps fresh from work—had delicate, beautiful features that blended capability with allure. Her undisguised pride made her seem like a noble Persian cat.

Her lips, slightly parted after drinking red wine, radiated seductive charm, issuing a silent yet tempting invitation.

Dominic Ashford's eyes suddenly darkened with a subtle shadow.

When he remained silent for a while, Celeste thought he might be reluctant. She curved her lips into a light smile, her voice refreshingly cool: "Of course, I won't shortchange you."

Her pale fingers retrieved a card from her wallet. Her casual gaze turned cold: "One night, and this card is yours. No PIN needed. There's a million in it."

Though she didn't know what Hell Bar servers earned, this sum was certainly generous, if not more than enough.

His thin lips lifted a little, eyes narrowing with that lazy, almost bored look, though Dominic Ashford was clearly holding back a spark of irritation. “I can agree,” he said, voice low, “but you owe me one answer first.”

“What question?”

Celeste Crawford’s tone carried a trace of impatience. Her delicate face looked cool under the flashing lights, and her pale fingers brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. “If it’s a normal question, I’ll answer. Just don’t cross the line.”

“Tell me—how many guys were you planning to target tonight before me?”

“How many?”

Her dark eyes locked on him, and she let out a soft, almost amused breath. “Weren’t you in Inferno Bar the whole time? Didn’t you notice I haven’t moved from this spot since I walked in?”

So… he was the first?

Dominic’s lips pressed into something between a smirk and a smile. The lights above were harsh, yet somehow fell gently over him.

He tilted his head slightly, lifting his gaze to her with a new hint of curiosity. “Then why me?”

The repeated questioning finally wore down her patience.

Celeste curled her lips in a cold, mocking half‑smile. “Sir, if you want to say yes, then say yes. If it’s a no, just spit it out. I’m talking to you because you look decent to me, not because you’re some must‑have prize. I’m not here to force anyone.”

She pointed upward with a pale finger, the gesture light yet sharp. “There’s a guy on the second‑floor balcony who looks pretty good too. He’s been staring at me for a while.” Her smile deepened, bright and effortless. “Aside from looking more like a walking red flag than you, he’s not that bad.”

“If you’re not interested, I’ll go find him instead.”

Dominic followed her gesture, but the spot was already empty.

And recalling how she’d casually addressed him earlier, he paused, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Alright. I agree. We can—”

“Great. Deal’s done. Come with me.” Before he could finish, Celeste had already turned away, her voice cool and steady. “I’ll book a presidential suite at Century Hotel next door. If you don’t like it, pick another.”

“No complaints here.”

“Good.”

With that, Celeste strode toward the exit, not bothering to check if Dominic was following, not sparing him even one more glance.