"Is your period over?"

"Yeah."

"Meet me at 7:00 pm."

Giselle Holt stared at the man's cold WhatsApp message, her lips curling into a smirk. Her reply was just one word.

"Fine."

She was out riding the mountain roads with a few other bikers. When she saw it was past 6:00 pm, she slammed her boot down and gunned the throttle.

Her Harley—worth hundreds of thousands—roared as she tore through the winding roads, finally skidding to a stop in front of a villa nestled between the mountains and the river.

Giselle pulled off her helmet and gloves, then stepped into the living room. The grand hall was elegant and lavish, yet still—as if frozen in time and thick with secrets.

The man lounged on the couch, smoking silently, as if he'd been expecting her all along. His face, framed by the swirling smoke, was sharply chiseled—so flawlessly refined it seemed almost unreal.

Giselle had no patience for foreplay. As she strode toward him, she began stripping off her clothes. First came the jacket, then her hair spilled free.

She transformed from a leather-clad biker into something straight out of a fantasy. She walked up to the man, swung one leg over him, and settled into his lap.

With a careless flick, she plucked the half-smoked cigarette from his hand. She took a slow drag, let out a lazy puff of smoke, then tucked it back between his lips.

"Should I shower first?" Giselle asked, sliding her arms around his neck, her smoldering gaze locked on his.

"No need."

He caught her chin with one finger, his thumb grazing her full lips before claiming her mouth in a possessive kiss. She matched his hunger perfectly. His hands burned like fire against her skin.

His name was Donovan Kane.

A year earlier, he had saved Giselle's life after a shark attacked her while she was surfing in Haleona's deep waters. That heart-stopping moment had sparked a wild, unforgettable night between them.

After returning to their home country, they fell into the cliché arrangement of contractual lovers. He met all her financial demands, and she was available whenever he wanted physical satisfaction.

They'd been sleeping together for a year, yet she knew nothing about him beyond his name—not that she cared to find out. All Giselle cared about was that, whenever they met, she experienced the most intense, raw pleasure imaginable.

This time was no different. They skillfully explored each other's bodies, starting in the living room before moving upstairs to the master bedroom, their clothes scattered behind them.

Over an hour later, the storm between them finally subsided.

Giselle slumped against the headboard, feeling utterly spent. She didn't feel like moving a muscle anytime soon.

Meanwhile, Donovan, freshly showered and dressed, had already slipped back into his usual role—the cool, detached "high-class gentleman".

He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling from his lips as his gaze held her in place like a vise.

As he watched her play games without a care in the world—already distant from the passion they'd just shared—his expression darkened with something unreadable.

He'd always known she was a careless flirt, but irritation pricked at him anyway. He took a few sharp drags from his cigarette, then pulled out his phone and tapped through a series of actions.

Before long, Giselle's phone buzzed with a bank notification. She opened it to find a transfer from Donovan's account. The string of zeros in the amount made her head spin.

She counted the digits carefully—a one followed by seven zeros. That meant ten million dollars.

Giselle couldn't help but wonder if Donovan had added an extra zero by mistake.

But then he said in a cold, quiet voice, "This is the last time we'll see each other. Don't contact me again."

Giselle was taken aback. "Why?"

Chapter 2

Giselle wasn't reluctant to leave Donovan. She was just confused.

He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and delivered the truth flatly. "I'm getting married next month. Take the money, and stay out of my life."

"Getting married?"

Giselle felt nothing. If anything, she was amused. "Honestly, I thought you already had a wife and kids. Congrats!"

A flicker of menace darkened Donovan's eyes as he stared her down.

Giselle thought about that ten million dollars and feared he might change his mind if she took too long. So, she threw on her clothes quickly.

She bounced over to him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. "I'll take the money, then. Thanks, Mr. Kane. You're the best!"

The naked greed and slyness in her eyes only deepened Donovan's disgust. He shoved her away.

"You can go now. And remember what I said—stay out of my life," he muttered.

"Okay!"

Without hesitation, Giselle pulled out her phone, blocked his number right in front of him, and deleted his WhatsApp contact.

"There. Now you'll never hear from me again. There's nothing to worry about."

As she spoke, she rummaged through the tangled sheets, fished out her bra, and shoved it into her top. After a few wriggles, she turned her back toward him. "Hey. Do me a favor."

Donovan's expression darkened, but he held back his temper and fastened her bra clasp with practiced ease.

"Alright. I'm out. Got a late-night snack date with a younger guy, so let's not waste each other's time." Giselle leaned in, whispering in his ear with a teasing grin, "See you, sugar daddy!"

Ignoring his dark glare, she grabbed her things and bolted downstairs. After gearing up, she swung onto her bike, revved the engine smoothly, and sped away from the villa in a flash.

Beneath the pitch-black sky, with the wind howling around her, she cranked the throttle nearly to its limit. She took dangerous curves with easy confidence, slicing through traffic like it was nothing.

The engine's roar turned heads, drawing stares from other drivers on the road.

But Giselle loved these moments of pure recklessness. They were her ultimate stress relief, as if every worry could just tear away in the wind.

Besides bikes, she was crazy about surfing, skydiving, rock climbing, race cars—basically anything that could get her killed fast.

She lived for extreme sports and short-lived flings. Wild and free, she never let sentimental romance hold her back.

But this time, when Giselle got home and lay in bed after midnight, she couldn't stop thinking about Donovan. Every moment they'd shared over the past year, especially their final meeting earlier that evening, left her tossing and turning.

Then again, maybe it was just the adrenaline from that ten million dollars keeping her up.

…

Over the next month, Giselle had practically forgotten about Donovan. She was either off planning something with her adventure buddies or hanging out with her best friends, living life exactly as she pleased.

Of course, she had a real career too.

She'd always loved animals, so after studying veterinary medicine abroad for several years, she returned home and opened her own veterinary clinic.

Her clinic business was thriving, thanks to her exceptional talent in the field. She already had three locations open.

One evening, after finishing a mountain of work at the clinic, Giselle's phone rang. The caller ID made her stomach sink.

She answered the call and snapped, "What do you want?"

Chapter 3

"Giselle, it's Renee's birthday today. Come back to the Holt residence for dinner tonight."

The voice on the phone was none other than Tony Holt, the man Giselle reluctantly called her father.

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have answered his call, let alone set foot in that house. But there was something important she needed to take care of.

After a brief hesitation, she agreed.

Giselle hated talking about her rotten past with anyone. Since she was little, Tony had been unfaithful, carrying on an affair with her aunt, Renee Moore. It eventually led to the death of Giselle's birth mother, Rebecca Moore, who lost her battle with depression.

After Renee stepped into Rebecca's place as Giselle's stepmother, Giselle became an unwelcome outsider in her own home.

When Giselle was only ten, Tony sent her away to live overseas. Aside from the bare minimum of financial support, he showed her almost no fatherly affection, leaving her to raise herself.

Now that she'd finally achieved financial independence, the first thing she wanted was to cut all ties with the Holt family. It was time for a fresh start.

With that goal in mind, she drove to the Holt residence just after 4:00 pm. Half an hour later, her car pulled up in front of a timeless, elegant villa in an upscale neighborhood.

When Giselle walked into the living room, she saw Tony seated on the couch, chatting on the phone.

Nearby, Renee was in the middle of giving orders to the butler, but the moment she noticed Giselle, her face twisted with barely concealed disgust.

"Didn't I tell you today was Renee's birthday? Why did you come empty-handed?" Tony snapped.

Giselle had no patience for pleasantries. "I'm not here to celebrate anyone's birthday. I just came to get my personal documents and cut ties with this family for good."

Tony went quiet.

Renee eyed Giselle sideways, noting the limited-edition Hermès bag in her grip and the designer clothes from head to toe.

"So that's why you're suddenly cutting us off." Renee snorted. "You found yourself a sugar daddy to foot the bill, didn't you?"

Giselle sneered. "Yeah, I met this older guy—even older than Dad. He throws millions at me without even blinking. Money's not a problem anymore."

"You piece of shit!" Tony snarled, thrusting a finger in her face. "You're off screwing around all the time. Have you no shame left? Are you trying to humiliate me in my old age?"

"Shame?" Giselle shot back, her voice dripping with indifference. "Sorry, my parents died when I was young. I had no one around to raise me or teach me. So no, I don't know what shame is. But if you had any clue about it, you wouldn't have pulled all that disgusting shit back then."

"How dare you!" Tony's whole body shook with rage, his words hissing through clenched teeth. "Do you think I can't fucking control you anymore?"

Giselle turned her back on him. She'd had enough of the old bastard. "Save your breath. Just hand over my personal documents. I'll change my surname today, and when I die, I won't even ask you to come claim my body."

"Do you think you can just walk away from the Holts? It's not that simple!" Renee snapped, every inch the domineering matriarch. "Your father and I raised you for over 20 years. You didn't think that was free, did you?

"You have two options—pay back every cent we've spent on you, plus interest, or go through with the marriage I've arranged. Once you're married, your personal documents are yours, and you can cut ties all you like!"

The so-called "marriage" was just a scheme. They wanted to wed Giselle to some wealthy businessman's disabled son, using her to secure the Holts' business interests.

Giselle didn't hesitate to fire back when confronted with such a vile, disgusting act. "You don't actually think you have me under your thumb, do you, Renee? Fine. Keep my personal documents. We'll settle this in court."

She locked eyes with Renee—the woman who'd driven Rebecca to her death—and flung the ugly truth from over 20 years ago right back at her.

"Let the whole world learn the truth about the 'illustrious' Renee Moore. You were just the Moores' adopted daughter, a backstabbing bitch who seduced their real daughter's husband and wound up marrying him.

"Then, you drove your adoptive parents to their graves just to steal Moore Pharmaceuticals. That's how you got where you are. Let's see how high society treats you then—"

"Shut up!" Renee yelled.

Her face went ghostly white, as if she'd been struck in her weakest spot. Rage boiling over, she raised her hand to slap Giselle across the face.

But Giselle moved lightning-fast, catching Renee's wrist mid-air before swinging back and landing a blow of her own across Renee's cheek.

"H-How… How dare you!"

Renee's eyes widened in disbelief. This brat actually had the nerve to hit her!

"Mom!"

Anne Holt, Renee's daughter, had just stepped inside. She froze at the sight, then rushed over in panic to check on Renee.

"Mom! Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

"That bitch actually hit me. I-I'll..."

Renee was seething with rage, hands raised as if she was about to tear Giselle apart, when she suddenly froze mid-motion at the sight of someone in the doorway.

Giselle followed her gaze and turned to see a cold, imposing man striding into the living room. Just his presence made the air feel suddenly colder.

When Giselle finally got a clear look at his face, her heart lurched.

How could it be him?

Chapter 4

Giselle thought something was wrong with her eyes. Her heart raced as Donovan hovered just inches away. Then, he noticed her too.

The moment their eyes met, the world seemed to freeze. He stared at her as if she were some kind of monster.

Neither of them could look away for a good while.

"Don!" Tony was the first to call out, grinning as he waved him over. "Come on, take a seat! Sorry about that. There was just a little family disagreement earlier. I thought you'd be running late. Please, take a seat!"

Then, leaning close to Giselle, Tony hissed a sharp warning under his breath, "That's Anne's fiancé. He's an honored guest. Stop causing a scene, and get out. Now!"

Fiancé?

The word struck Giselle like a physical blow. Her body went rigid, her disbelieving gaze snapping back to Donovan.

At the same time, Renee hurried over, stumbling over her apologies. "Don, I'm truly sorry about what happened earlier. I'm so embarrassed you had to see this mess on your first visit to our home.

"I'm sorry! That's Tony's daughter from his ex-wife. She's used to getting her way and has a habit of stirring up trouble."

Worried that Giselle's bratty, delinquent image might ruin the marriage between the Holts and the Kanes, Renee wasted no time clearing things up.

"But don't worry. She doesn't live with us. Tony and I will make sure this is handled properly."

Donovan said nothing, merely shooting Giselle a cold glance before looking away. That disdainful, icy gaze left no question about his contempt for her.

He'd slept with her for a year—more than enough time to learn every wild, selfish, and money-hungry part of her. Not to mention, he'd just watched her slap Renee "viciously".

"Giselle, must you turn the whole place upside down every time you're back?"

Anne stepped closer, pretending to be gentle as she reached for Giselle's hair.

Putting on her usual victim act, she added, "If my mom said something to upset you, I'll apologize right now, okay? Take it out on me all you want. Just please don't take your anger out on her anymore. She has a heart condition—"

"Get off me."

Giselle hated when people touched her hair, especially someone as fake and cloying as Anne.

As she spoke, she shoved Anne, sending her stumbling backward. Anne nearly lost her balance, but Donovan caught her just in time.

He'd had enough. His eyes locked onto Giselle, burning with fury as he growled, "Touch her one more time. I dare you."

The threat stopped Giselle cold. Seeing him play the overprotective fiancé—holding Anne, who looked so fragile in his arms—drove the truth home once more. He was going to marry Anne.

A smirk twisted Giselle's lips as she ground out, "Gladly."

Nothing infuriated her more than being threatened.

In one swift motion, she turned, snatched a glass of water from the housekeeper's tray, and flung its contents straight into Anne's face. Then, she tossed the empty glass into the trash at her feet, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door as if nothing had happened.

But she'd barely taken a few steps when a hand suddenly seized her arm.

Giselle looked up and locked eyes with Donovan again, his dark, stormy gaze burning with barely restrained fury.

She tried to wrench her arm free, but his grip only tightened, crushing her flesh as if he wanted to snap her bones.

Too exhausted to struggle, she threw him a taunt. "What the hell are you doing, groping me like that? Are you trying to rape me or something?"

Chapter 5

Hearing Giselle's shameless words, Donovan wavered between releasing her and holding on. In the end, he just fixed her with a hard stare.

Anne felt an indescribable thrill watching him get physical to "defend" her. Even with water still dripping down her face, she acted like it was nothing. But the moment she noticed Donovan's grip still wrapped around Giselle's arm, a pang of discomfort hit her.

"Don, ignore her. She's a lunatic. There's no telling what she'll do. Just let her go. She's not worth getting your hands dirty!"

"Yeah, Don," Renee chimed in, eager to stir the pot. "I get that you can't stand seeing Anne get picked on. But what you don't know is that Giselle has picked up all kinds of bad habits overseas—smoking, drinking, popping pills, the whole deal.

"Even Tony can't control her. For the sake of family peace, we've had to bite our tongues and let it slide."

But Donovan barely registered Anne's and Renee's buzzing voices. His eyes stayed locked on Giselle's face, his grip still tight around her arm.

Growing impatient, Giselle was about to pry his hand away—until her gaze fell on it, every bit as strong and familiar as she remembered. She changed her mind.

Instead, she laid her hand over his, deliberately stroking it in slow, teasing caresses as she met his gaze, her eyes alight with challenge.

As she'd expected, Donovan grew visibly uneasy under her bold, public teasing. Disgusted, he had no choice but to let her go.

"That's enough. Get the hell out of here!" Anne snapped, her patience shattering the second Giselle touched Donovan's hand.

Done pretending, she hooked her arm around Donovan's and made sure Giselle got the message. "If you love seducing men so much, go sink your claws into someone else. But don't you dare drag my fiancé into your nasty little games. He's way out of your league!"

Giselle scoffed.

Remembering those wild, passionate nights with Donovan made it all the more ironic to see him now, fussing over his darling wife-to-be. Rich people really knew how to play their fucking games, didn't they?

She'd had it with these damned snakes. She spared Donovan one last glance before walking out, her shoulders squared. She refused to look like some whipped mutt scurrying off.

She climbed into her blue Panamera and slammed the door shut. With a smooth reverse, she turned the car around, then hit the gas and sped away from the villa.

With one hand on the wheel, she drove numbly, her mind replaying the confrontation at the Holt residence on an endless loop. Donovan's face lingered in her head like a damned ghost.

…

It was already 8:00 pm when Giselle arrived home.

She lived alone in an ordinary neighborhood, in a modest 970-square-foot house she'd bought outright and renovated for under 500 thousand dollars. It was nothing like the Holt family's lavish, sprawling villa, but it was hers—her own place in the city, where she felt safe and at ease.

Her highly intelligent, commanding shepherd dog trotted out to greet her the moment she walked in. After playing with the dog for a while, she curled up on the couch and chatted with her best friend overseas for about ten minutes.

Feeling a little hungry, she ordered takeout on her phone. By the time she finished showering and changed into her pajamas, the app notified her that the food had arrived and was waiting at her doorstep, just as she'd requested.

Without thinking twice, she opened the door to grab her order. To her shock, the moment she cracked it open, the door was flung wide, and a man forced his way inside.

Giselle immediately recognized that familiar, icy presence. But before she could say a word, Donovan shoved her roughly onto the couch.

"Fuck," she spat, unable to hold it back.

She met Donovan's dark, menacing gaze. "Why the hell did you follow me home? What more do you want?"

Chapter 6

Donovan marched up to Giselle, his voice sharp with accusation. "Giselle, didn't I warn you to stay out of my life? Why were you making a scene at the Holt residence?"

Giselle hesitated for just a second before letting out a derisive snort. "Funny you should say that, Mr. Kane. The Holt residence belongs to my so-called father.

"And this? This is also my turf. If anything, you're the one invading my world. I could call the cops right now and have you arrested for trespassing!"

Donovan's expression darkened. He closed the distance between them in an instant, towering over her as his hand clamped around her chin.

"Now that you know I'm connected to the Holts, you should keep your mouth shut," he warned, his gaze cold. "Especially around Anne. Don't you dare breathe a word to her."

She let him grip her chin, staring straight into his eyes without flinching.

"Oh?" Unfazed, she gave him a teasing look. "What exactly about us is so unmentionable? You don't want me to tell her we slept together? Or that we…"

Donovan's grip tightened, his fury boiling over. He wanted so badly to crush her right then. But in the end, he released her with a look of disgust.

Without another word, he stalked to the balcony, lit a cigarette, and took a drag, the smoke curling around him like he was trying to choke the chaos inside.

Giselle lounged lazily on the couch, unable to hide a sneer as she recalled his earlier outburst.

Clearly, Anne meant a lot to Donovan. Otherwise, a man like him, who was always buried in work, wouldn't have dropped everything to chase Giselle all the way to her home just to threaten her.

Giselle suppressed a scoff. Her gaze drifted to his silhouette on the balcony. He stood there, quietly smoking.

What the fuck else could he possibly want?

Just then, she received a WhatsApp notification. She pulled out her phone and checked the message. It was from one of her backups—someone named "Zach"—asking if she was free for a late-night snack.

She didn't think twice before saying yes, pushing aside the tangled mess of emotions from before in seconds.

Giselle walked over to Donovan and made it clear he needed to go. "Alright, Mr. Kane. I have plans tonight, so I don't have time for your games."

Leaning against the glass door with a smirk, she added, "We settled our accounts long ago, so don't worry. I know exactly what to do. Who you marry means nothing to me. And as for me? I've got a date waiting. So, get out."

She'd said plenty, but Donovan only caught two words—a date.

His glare burned into her, sharp with anger and disdain. "You've found someone new already?"

"Yep," Giselle replied breezily. "A younger guy. He's another rich heir. He's tall, ripped, and at least ten years younger than you, with way more energy."

Donovan took several hard drags from his cigarette, then crushed it in the ashtray. His mood darkened.

He wasn't even sure why he'd come here tonight. All he knew was that every word out of Giselle's mouth made him want to strangle her.

A hot, inexplicable rage flared in his chest, searing down into his gut.

Just then, Giselle received another WhatsApp notification. It was another message from Zach, asking where they should meet.

Still holding her phone, she tapped the voice message button and said, "Anywhere's fine. You pick. That music bar we went to last time was nice. When you—"

Before Giselle could finish speaking, Donovan snatched the phone from her hand. Then, he flung it into the nearby trash can like it was worthless, the impact echoing with a heavy thud.

Giselle was too stunned to react at first. Then, it hit her, and she snapped, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

She'd barely moved toward her phone before Donovan caught her arm and shoved her back onto the couch without a word.

Chapter 7

Giselle was pinned face-down on the couch, Donovan pressing into her from behind, leaving her struggling to breathe.

Her body fought back on instinct, but the difference in their strength made it pointless. Even though she worked out regularly, she was no match for him.

It felt like he was venting and taking revenge, maybe even punishing her. His ragged breath consumed her whole. Apparently, there was something truly twisted in him.

Giselle closed her eyes, feeling all reason and willpower slip away. At first, she let him take the lead, but then she couldn't help herself. The heat took over, pulling her under until she was lost in its wild, reckless rush.

She had no idea how much time had passed by the time it was over.

Slumped on the couch, her clothes rumpled and out of place, her body ached as if it might come undone. She didn't want to speak or think. She just drifted in a dull, heavy haze.

Meanwhile, Donovan had already pulled up his pants and stood there with quiet satisfaction, calmly buttoning his shirt at a leisurely pace.

His well-tailored gray shirt—now slightly wrinkled where she had gripped it—still fit him perfectly, hugging his lean waist, muscular back, and broad chest.

For a moment, Giselle forgot the tension between them. Her gaze lingered on his tall, imposing frame with a tenderness that almost looked like infatuation.

Donovan smoothed his clothes and turned, only to find Giselle gazing at him, her eyes slightly dazed. But almost instantly, his expression turned icy once more.

"I've said everything that needed to be said tonight. I don't want to see you at the Holt residence again."

He grabbed his phone and car keys and headed for the door without another word.

Giselle was used to his coldness. It hardly affected her anymore. But just as he reached for the doorknob, something made her call out, "Mr. Kane, you forgot to pay, didn't you?"

He stopped in his tracks.

Giselle stared at him with a half-smile, her voice cool and businesslike. "We settled everything last month. Tonight? That's a separate deal."

Donovan closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of disdain crossing his face. After barely ten seconds of thought, he took out his phone and opened WhatsApp, ready to pull up her bank details.

"Send me your bank account number again," he muttered.

Only then did Giselle remember that after they had gone their separate ways, they'd blocked each other on WhatsApp. She took out her phone, unblocked him, and sent the details.

Almost instantly, a bank transfer notification appeared. But when she saw the amount, her face fell.

"500 dollars," Donovan said flatly, his voice thick with disdain. "That's all you're worth now."

Giselle stiffened for a moment.

"Fine," she shot back through clenched teeth, her smirk defiant as she held her ground. "Then I'll just call the cops right now and tell them we're running an illegal prostitution ring here.

"How about we all enjoy a nice two-week stay in jail? I've got all the time in the world, but you? I bet that fancy wedding of yours would have to wait."

With that, she pulled up the dial pad and punched in 911 like she meant it.

Donovan glared at her for a long moment, his expression making it clear he thought she'd lost her mind. He was utterly speechless.

"You're that desperate for money, huh?" he asked.

"What? Should I be desperate for you instead?" she shot back.

His expression darkened, that same infuriating, inexplicable rage flaring up inside him again.

Donovan had had enough of her nonsense. He pulled out his phone, opened his banking app, and transferred another ten million dollars into her account without hesitation.

"Here's ten million dollars. Now, bury whatever was between us and stay the hell out of my life!"

With that, he turned and left, his demeanor cold and cutting. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the rest behind.

Chapter 8

The living room went quiet again, and Giselle remained dazed for a long moment.

She tapped open the bank notification on her phone, staring at that staggering string of zeros, but it didn't thrill her. If anything, it only weighed on her more.

Donovan had written her off with a measly ten million dollars—pocket change to a man like him. Yet for some other woman, he'd pour out his entire fortune, even his whole self, just to build a happy marriage.

The thought brought a faint tightness to Giselle's chest.

She took a slim cigarette from the coffee table drawer, lit it, and let it rest between her fingers. Then she brought it to her lips, drew a deep breath, and exhaled the smoke with a smooth, practiced ease.

Wrapped in that hazy cloud, her tension loosened. The hollow melancholy from moments before was already fading away.

…

In the days that followed, Giselle threw herself into scouting locations for her new veterinary clinic, leaving no time for those toxic people and their drama.

She'd studied veterinary medicine abroad and had always loved animals. After returning home, she launched her own veterinary clinic.

Thanks to her natural talent and sharp business sense, Giselle now ran a chain of clinics offering pet healthcare, grooming, food, and boarding—primarily serving high-end clients with deep pockets.

Whenever those wealthy socialites' pets fell ill with mysterious conditions, her expertise always saved them. Over time, she'd built a solid reputation in the industry.

One morning, after finishing a meeting with her team, Giselle was on her phone during a break when it chimed with a WhatsApp notification. It was another message from Zach.

He asked if she was free that day and invited her to go mountain biking. He even sent a photo of a high-end bike, bragging that it was his new ride and encouraging her to try it out.

Since she didn't have anything important that afternoon—and honestly, she'd been itching to hit the trails after so long—she happily agreed without hesitation.

Giselle went home to change into her professional mountain biking gear and packed some casual clothes for later. Then, she hopped in her car and plugged the address Zach had sent into her GPS.

She sped the whole way, driving like she was in some kind of race, and made it there in under half an hour.

The place was out in the suburbs—a national forest park or something similar. Rolling hills, lakes, and stone steps made the area incredibly scenic.

The perfect terrain had allowed for some mountain bike trails to be built, drawing plenty of riders eager for an adrenaline rush.

Giselle had just parked her car and stepped out when someone called from behind, "Giselle!"

She turned to see a tall, handsome young man walking toward her. Like her, he was dressed in sleek mountain biking gear, pushing a brand-new mountain bike.

It was Zach.

They'd first met six months ago at a wingsuit flying event organized by their group. Giselle didn't actually know the guy's name. She'd never asked, and he'd never offered.

From what friends had told her, he was some ultra-rich heir, just 24, still working on his master's at the world-famous Machett Institute of Technology. He was also into extreme sports, just like her.

They didn't talk much. She'd only seen him two or three times, always in group outings with friends. Today was the first time they'd met alone.

"Here, I got this just for you," Zach said as he wheeled the bike over to her, introducing it with a proud grin. "This model's top-tier, specs-wise. It took me two months to get it through a personal shopper."

"Oh, is that so? Let me take a look."

After all, Giselle was a hardcore enthusiast in this field and knew her stuff. As Zach explained, she crouched down, inspecting the bike with sharp interest and testing it with practiced ease.

The mountain bike featured top-of-the-line braking systems and electronic shifting, with impact resistance that was nearly unmatched anywhere else.

Every component was high-end, from the inverted forks all the way down to the tires. A beast like this easily commanded five figures.

"This one's yours. Mine's over there," Zach said, motioning for his assistant to bring the other bike closer. "Mine's blue. We'd be a matching pair."

At the words "matching pair", Giselle let out a noncommittal chuckle. "Let's get going. We should head over and get ready. Which trail do you want?"

"Your call. I'm good with anything. Wait." Zach looked up, his gaze locking onto hers with sudden intensity. "Before we start, there's something important I need to ask you."

"What?"