Vincent's Exclusive Lover

Five years can bring about many changes; it can entirely transform a person. During this time, Vincent Wolfe worked tirelessly, building Wolfe Group and slowly making a name for himself in the business world. His success drew admiration from many women of high society, but though he had many women around him, he never entrusted his heart to any of them. To Vincent, women over the years had become nothing more than creatures to be bought with money, existing solely to satisfy physical desires. Cold and detached, he no longer believed in women. To him, women were ruthless beings driven by vanity, wealth, and anything that fulfilled their desires—traits Vincent believed were universal among women.

However, he never directly accused them of it, preferring to let them know that this was just a transaction where both parties got what they needed without any entanglement. If anyone broke the rules, he would not hesitate to end things.

The warm glow in the room did nothing to soften Vincent’s dark, obscure mood.

Sinking into the plush sofa, he lit a cigar, its smoke curling around him, casting a haze over his gaze.

A thick blend of perfume and smoke filled the office as Vincent looked up toward the door, a sly smile appearing, like a king waiting for a servant. He watched as a seductive woman approached him.

With her alluring figure, mesmerizing eyes, and red, luscious lips, she was every man’s ideal fantasy. Luna was a natural beauty, a treasure worth keeping. But to Vincent Wolfe, she was nothing more than an equal exchange.

Luna was his secretary, a companion at every elite event Vincent attended. He couldn’t deny that Luna had been useful in social circles, helping him on many occasions.

Yet Vincent knew their relationship was nothing beyond boss and subordinate, a purely physical connection.

With crimson-polished nails and slender, pale fingers, she ran her hands over Vincent's broad chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

Her warm breath caressed his neck, teasing him. Despite his refined appearance, Vincent’s gaze remained cold and unfeeling. “Perhaps I’m drawn to him for that very reason,” Luna thought.

“Vince, you could come to my place tonight,” she murmured, her soft lips brushing against his. Her voice was tempting, a tone most men couldn’t resist.

But she had forgotten she was dealing with Vincent Wolfe—a man who appeared gentle but was brutally cold.

In an instant, her chin was grasped firmly, the sting of pain causing her to stumble as Vincent pushed her away and stood up.

Luna, thrown off balance, looked at him with bewilderment.

She knew men well and had countless methods to win their favor. Putting on a charming smile, she said, “Vince, what’s wrong?”

Vincent looked at her with disdain, his gaze dark and impenetrable. “I thought you were a smart woman who understood the rules of this game. You’ve disappointed me,” he said icily, his voice devoid of any warmth.

“Vince, I…”

Vincent nonchalantly wrote out a check and handed it to her. “This is your payment.”

Luna understood that this marked the end of their relationship, something she had anticipated from the start. She had thought that she might be able to capture his heart and become his last woman, but in the end, she failed.

Accepting the check—10 million—she thought it best to take the money and enjoy life. She wouldn’t foolishly cling to him, unlike other women.

“Thank you, Vincent,” she said with a playful smile, blowing him a kiss before leaving.

Vincent remained expressionless, unaffected.

Before closing the door, Luna asked, “Why are you ending things between us?” She was only curious, as she didn’t think there was anything wrong with herself.

“I don’t like women who play tricks on me,” Vincent replied, his voice cold yet somehow alluring.

Luna smiled knowingly, realizing she had overestimated herself. She closed the door and left.

Silence filled the room, leaving only a handsome man smoking a fine cigar, surrounded by an air of solitude and calm.

Looking out the window, he saw the neon lights flickering as the city’s nightlife came to life, like a seductress extending her tempting hands, waiting for men and women to approach. Snuffing out his cigar, Vincent picked up his phone from the desk and walked out.

Nearly every night at this time, Vincent would come to this bar. Sometimes he’d sit in an upstairs booth, and other times he’d sit in a quiet corner downstairs, drinking alone. Though he kept to himself, Vincent’s looks and attire always drew attention wherever he went. He was never short of female company, but it was always just to satisfy his desires.

The waiter brought him a drink and politely withdrew.

Vincent stared at the amber liquid, his gaze unfocused, then lifted it to his lips, drinking it all in one go. The smooth, sweet warmth hit with a powerful kick—no problem for Vincent, whose business dealings had made a strong tolerance a necessity.

After several drinks, he felt slightly intoxicated, perhaps from the quiet atmosphere or the alcohol itself.

Just then, piano music filled the air, its melody beautiful and moving.

Everyone’s attention turned to the sound, their thoughts carried away by the music. Vincent opened his unfocused eyes, dark as the midnight sky, and fixed them on the woman under the spotlight. Sitting at the piano, her slender, ethereal profile, pale fingers dancing on the keys, was graceful as a dancer. Her fair, porcelain skin glowed under the light, her hair falling freely, giving her a celestial look that was refreshing and untouched by the world. Even Vincent, who had seen countless beauties, couldn’t help but admire her.

Vincent’s gaze deepened, holding an unfathomable hint of intrigue. Suddenly, a commotion broke the tranquil atmosphere.

He frowned, looking toward the source of the noise. Three waitstaff were blocking a man.

“What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you let me in?”

“I don’t have a membership, but my girlfriend’s inside!”

Fragments of the conversation drifted over.

The woman at the piano abruptly stopped playing, quickly walking over to the man and pulling him toward the exit.

Vincent frowned slightly, feeling oddly uncomfortable as he watched this scene.

A provocatively dressed woman approached him, “Sir, can I buy you a drink?” she asked, leaning close.

Vincent’s coldness flashed briefly before transforming into a playful smile. “Of course, beautiful. What would you like to drink?” Hearing this, the woman leaned closer, her low neckline revealing ample cleavage that brushed against Vincent’s chest. Vincent’s arm slipped around her waist. “Shall I feed you the drink?” she asked, taking a sip and bringing her lips to his.

With his arm around her, they walked out of the bar. He intended to find a hotel, as he never brought these women home—they didn’t deserve that.

Outside the bar:

“David, I really can’t go on like this anymore. Don’t keep pushing me. Let’s break up. Please, don’t make this harder.”

“No, I’ve been so good to you. How could you not love me? Don’t leave me.”

Elizabeth sighed, looking at the man before her. She’d agreed to date him only because he’d pestered her endlessly, not out of any genuine feelings. And now, given her current situation, she didn’t want to drag him down with her. She had no energy for a relationship; what she needed now was money, or else her younger brother…

“I told you, I don’t feel anything for you anymore. I don’t love you. Don’t you understand?” She turned, spotting a taxi, and smiled back at him. “David, I’m really leaving. If you keep following me, I’ll never want to see you again.” She hurried toward the road to hail a cab. She collided with someone, but she didn’t have time to apologize—she had to leave immediately.

Vincent, holding the woman close, waited for his car at the entrance. He had seen everything. Although he didn’t usually meddle, he’d been curious to see what kind of woman would have a man clinging to her so desperately. But his current companion kept kissing him, leaving him no time to focus elsewhere.

The woman had run into him but didn’t turn back to apologize, getting straight into a cab. She was probably worried about the man chasing her. Vincent finally got a clear look at her face; it was the same woman who had been playing the piano. Whatever trace of fondness he’d felt immediately vanished. Another vain woman, he thought, a hint of irony in his smile. She reminded him of someone, and his gaze turned cold. All women were vain, he concluded. Pushing away the woman clinging to him, he got into his car, starting the engine to follow the taxi. He left the other woman on the roadside, shouting after him. Vincent didn’t know why he was following the woman—only that he would regret it if he didn’t.

Elizabeth panted, gasping softly as she struggled to catch her breath. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but no amount of air seemed enough to calm her racing heart. A wave of heat surged from within her, making her entire body feel strange and uncomfortable. She swallowed hard, moistening her dry lips with her tongue, but it was far from satisfying. The desire simmering inside frightened her, and she bit down to bring herself back to clarity. With a sliver of control, she staggered out of the taxi.

“D*mn it,” she muttered. How could she let herself fall into such a predicament? She never should have drunk that glass of wine a guest offered her. Now it was too late for regret; she had to figure out how to escape this situation. Her vision blurred, and her surroundings looked unfamiliar. Where had she wandered off to?

“Is there anyone who can help me?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

A screech of brakes broke the silence as a car pulled to a halt nearby. The