“Your first time?”
Inside the dimly lit underground garage, in a limited edition Rolls-Royce, a deep voice paused for a beat.
The woman beneath him looked pale from the pain. Olivia Larson gripped the man’s designer shirt tightly, her voice trembling. “G-Get off me!”
“Oh? Weren’t you pretty bold when you were coming on to me earlier?” The man’s tone was firm, not leaving room for refusal.
“Ugh…”
After what felt like forever, everything finally quieted down.
Olivia slumped in the seat, panting heavily, completely drained—she could barely lift a finger.
With misty almond-shaped eyes, she glanced at the man beside her, who was buttoning up his sleeves, every move calm and elegant like nothing happened.
The cool, distant look on Maxwell Whitman’s perfect face gave no trace of what he did just moments ago—like wanting to tear her apart piece by piece.
People said he was a prim and proper gentleman, no interest in women, like he would've become a monk if he didn’t have a family empire to run.
Olivia now knew how off those rumors were.
Her sore waist was a painful reminder of that mistake. Honestly? She really regretted messing with him.
Maxwell looped a strand of prayer beads around his wrist, his every move meticulous. Turning back, he was already back to being the untouchable, aloof heir of the Whitman family.
“What are you after?” His tone wasn’t cold so much as casually indifferent.
Olivia blinked, then suddenly realized—was he trying to pay her?
She didn’t take offense. After all, she was the one who got in his car and made the first move. No one in his position would think she was here for love.
Thinking fast, she weighed her options and smiled. “You got it wrong, Mr. Whitman. We’re both adults. It’s just sex. I’m not asking for anything. But—if you insist on giving me something, how about… another round? Because honestly, that felt pretty damn good.”
Maxwell’s eyes narrowed a touch. Then, unexpectedly, he leaned in.
The air shifted instantly. The pressure he exuded made Olivia tense up on instinct.
His long fingers gently pinched her chin as he studied her face, lips quirking with a faint, mocking smile. “You sure you’re not after something bigger, sweetheart?”He leaned in, his breath brushing against her ear, voice low with just the right edge to send shivers down her spine, but the words that came out were razor-sharp.
“Let me guess—either you think my newly ‘legitimized’ little brother Ethan’s status isn’t good enough, so you’re aiming for the Mrs. Whitman title? Or maybe you’re just using me to get back at the guy who dumped you?”
Olivia Larson froze, locking eyes with the man’s teasing, half-amused gaze, utterly stunned.
“Whichever it is, you really think you’ve got what it takes to play that game in front of me?”
She was speechless.
He knew.
He knew about her and Ethan. Knew she’d come after him deliberately, to get even.
And yet, they’d never even met before tonight.
Her shock must’ve entertained him, because Maxwell Whitman gave a quiet chuckle. “Didn’t see that coming, huh?”
“We had Ethan looked into ages ago, before he came back to the Whitmans. Naturally, we dug through everyone connected to him—like you, the fiancée of five years.”
So from the start, he'd known exactly who she was. And still, he didn’t stop her from making a move.
Out of nowhere, Olivia was hit with a wave of shame so intense she wanted to burrow into the ground and disappear.
What was supposed to be a clean break—a one-night stand to blow off steam—had turned into something messier.
Did he let things slide because sneaking around with his brother’s ex felt like some kind of thrill? And now that the fun was over, he just brushed it off like nothing?
Her mind was spinning but she forced her face to stay calm. “Relax. I couldn't care less about becoming Mrs. Whitman.”
“Once I’m out of this car, we’re strangers again.”
She’d only come to him because Ethan had cheated on her with Chloe Thompson—Olivia’s so-called sister from another mister. So hooking up with Ethan’s half-brother? Just returning the favor.
At most, it was a spite-fueled fling. She had zero interest in tangling with him long-term.
Maxwell’s eyes lingered, guarded, as if trying to figure out whether she meant it.
Then, without another word, he opened the door and said plainly, “Get out.”
Olivia paused just a second before grabbing her bag and stepping out, legs still sore.
She hadn’t made it far when the sound of the engine revved behind her. She turned back just in time to see the taillights disappear around a corner.
Standing alone in the dim lot, she gave a dry laugh.
Whoever started the rumor that the Whitman heir was a refined gentleman, all class and charm—
They must’ve been blind.Ha!
