Chapter 661

He said, "Sorry."

Joyce's eyes narrowed. She hadn't expected such a reaction. As she suspected, he was a man starved of intimacy for years. Damien didn't close his eyes; he stared at her beautiful face. She met his gaze. He slowly narrowed his handsome eyes. Seeing her lack of resistance, he gently bit her lip.

Joyce snorted as his teeth grazed her lip. Damien quickly released her, bracing his hands against the wall beside her. He lowered his voice, murmuring, "Sorry…"

He lacked experience. His only experience was that night—a night with a clear purpose, where they barely knew each other and felt little nervousness.

Joyce couldn't believe he was apologizing for almost hurting her lip. Unsure how to respond, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Damien pursed his lips, silent.

"How about I teach you?" Joyce whispered, initiating a kiss.

Damien wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, and closed his eyes. They kissed for a long time, the sound of splashing water filling the air.

Joyce broke the kiss, burying her face in his embrace. "Mr. Robert, I haven't showered yet. I want to shower first."

Damien opened his eyes, his affection evident. His Adam's apple bobbed as he fought the urge to continue their kiss.

He released her, hoarsely saying, "Go ahead."

Joyce looked at him reluctantly. "How about we wash together?"

Damien's eyes darkened as he reached for her. Joyce smiled, evading his grasp and brushing hair from her face.

"Mr. Robert, I was only joking. Wait for me," she said softly.

With that, Joyce entered the bathroom.

Watching her go, Damien felt something was amiss. He still wanted to kiss her. To distract himself, he decided on a cold shower.

Minutes later, Damien emerged. He entered the room to find the bed covered with a quilt, a slender figure beneath it. He frowned. Wouldn't she suffocate? Yet, she was lying there, waiting for him.

Damien reflected on his recent behavior. For years, surrounded by celebrities, he'd remained untouched. Why was Joyce different? Perhaps his childhood exposure to women had desensitized him, but Joyce—smart, playful, bold, and bright—was captivating.

Damien pursed his lips. Approaching the bed, he lifted the blanket—to find not Joyce, but two pillows arranged to resemble a human form. A note rested atop them: "Have a great time."

Damien's handsome face darkened. She had lied! The kiss, her advances—all a ruse to escape. Her deception was masterful.

Turning the note over, he found another message: "Mr. Robert, don't take this seriously. There are some really sexy women at this address. You can go there and have some fun…" An address was scribbled below.

Damien gritted his teeth, crumpling the note. He ripped open his shirt collar, furious at his underestimation of this woman.

He grabbed his phone, making a call. "Check where she is and bring her back!" he ordered.

An hour later, the clubhouse lay in ruins, its workers huddled in a corner. Steady footsteps approached. The manager looked up to see Damien leaving with his bodyguards in four Rolls-Royces. The "devil" was gone!

Relieved, the manager planned to renovate the next day. But the door opened again, a chill entering the room. Had the devil returned? She spun around, relieved to see not Damien, but three men—Alpha, Reuben, and Alpha's assistant.

The manager's eyes lit up. Alpha was as handsome as Damien, but somehow, "cuter."

"Sir, we had an accident, but it's fine. Please go upstairs. I'll send the most beautiful girls," the manager said, resuming business.

Alpha calmly hooked his lip. "Okay, I'll wait upstairs. The most beautiful girl."

Alpha, with Reuben and his assistant, entered a luxurious room. Annabelle remained trapped in the clubhouse.