Obsessive Devotion Ice-Cold Tycoon's Calculated Proposal

Unfortunately, Vivian had no idea what had just happened. Her face, still soft with sleep, was accompanied by shallow breaths as she remained unaware, unable to provide Daniel with the answers he longed for.

He lowered his gaze, standing by the bed, watching her for a long time. His eyes were filled with something that resembled restraint or maybe even self-control.

Finally, he bent down, smoothing the blanket over her and quietly closing the door behind him.

When Vivian woke up, she was a bit confused.

This bed was incredibly comfortable, like sleeping on clouds. She kicked her legs a few times and stretched lazily, letting out a little hum of satisfaction.

Good grief, had she not rested in so long that she had actually fallen into a deep, dream-filled sleep?

In the dream, she was wearing something light and was held in the embrace of a man whose face she couldn't clearly see, but she had a feeling he was a handsome one. And in the dream, she was the one making all the moves, taking advantage of the situation, relishing in it.

The sensation had felt so real. She even looked down at her hands, confirming that the solid feeling was gone, realizing it must have all been a dream.

The man smelled faintly of snow and pinewood, the scent something she couldn't get enough of.

Dreams were the best. Everything she wanted was there, and she could indulge as much as she liked. She rolled back into the bed, almost laughing to herself.

But before her smile could fade, she suddenly felt that something wasn't right.

Wait, cool air, fragrance, handsome man?

Vivian's eyes snapped open wide as realization hit her. No way!

She had just been struggling with that disgusting man—how did she end up in this luxurious bed?

A cold sweat broke out across her back as fragmented memories returned to her.

She had left the private room, disoriented, barely aware, and then… she had been dragged away? She couldn't remember how she ended up here.

All she could recall was that the man had been repulsive, touching her inappropriately.

She looked down at herself. Her clothes were still on, slightly wrinkled and dirty, but there were no signs of them being ripped or torn. Aside from feeling a bit dizzy, there was no other discomfort.

And yet, her lips felt slightly numb.

Her coat was neatly folded on the sofa, and her phone was still inside, though it was dead.

She was still in the Rosewood Hotel. Could it have been Emily who saved her?

But that didn't seem likely.

The room was impeccably clean, and there was a faint scent of pinewood in the air. Emily never wore that kind of fragrance.

Though it was a hotel, the atmosphere felt cold and clinical, almost as if someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder had designed it.

A sense of unease began to creep up in her chest.

The orange light from the lamps beside the bed cast a dim glow as she slowly peeled back the covers, carefully getting up. She slipped her feet into the disposable slippers beside the bed, padding softly across the carpet.

The thick, soft carpet muffled her steps completely. Her hand hovered over the door handle, and she gently pushed it open.

On the other side, the room was brightly lit, revealing a space of around fifty square meters. A large island counter held various fruits and snacks, and a bottle of wine was in the process of being aerated.

This meant there was definitely someone else here, besides her.

The sound of running water intermittently echoed from the bathroom.

Vivian's mind screamed with alarm.

Food, drink, someone taking a shower—she'd been put to bed here. What was about to happen next? Anyone could guess.

She scanned the room quickly and spotted a pair of finely crafted men's leather shoes near the entrance, along with a custom-made suit hanging on a nearby coat rack. It looked expensive.

Her teeth clenched, and she muttered a curse under her breath. Once she was safely out of here, she would tell Emily about the scandalous things going on at Rosewood Hotel. Who did they think they were, forcing women into these situations?

What if she hadn't woken up? Would she have just been violated with no way to fight back?

The anger boiled in her chest as she scanned the room again. Her eyes landed on a crystal figurine on the table, its edges sharp and uneven. Perfect for self-defense.

If she could make it out of here safely, fine. But if anyone dared to stop her, she would smash this figurine into their skulls, leaving them bleeding all over.

She hadn't been this angry in a long time. Without realizing it, she swung around, and the figurine knocked into a wine decanter on the table.

Thud! Thud! The decanter wobbled with two muffled thuds.

The decanter had been placed too close to the edge. Even with the carpet, the wine inside spilled out.

The fragrance of the wine filled the air—Vivian was well-versed in wine, and she instantly recognized it. It was Dom Pérignon P3, a bottle worth tens of thousands. It seemed like a lot of money was being spent here.

The noise of the decanter falling wasn't very loud, but Vivian paused for a moment, glancing toward the bathroom. The water was still running, and it seemed that the person inside hadn't heard the noise.

The jerk was still trying to create an atmosphere with fancy wine while plotting something like this. Vivian scoffed inwardly.

Of course, all the talk of fighting back was just frustration talking.

A woman and a man were on entirely different levels of strength, and unless she had professional training, any physical confrontation would end badly for her. She wouldn't be foolish enough to engage in a fight here.

The priority right now was to get out of here and figure out her next steps once she was safe. As long as the person was still in the hotel, she wasn't worried about him escaping.

She had to leave while the person was still in the bathroom.

Her coat and phone were in the bedroom, so she quickly went back to grab them.

When she reached for the door handle again, she paused for a moment. Had she closed the door when she left?

The thought flashed through her mind, but before she could give it much attention, her hand instinctively pushed the door open.

That's when she realized something was wrong.

The dimly lit bedroom smelled even more of pinewood. The water's vapor mixed with the scent, and Vivian's hand hesitated as she tried to back away, but it was too late.

The person in front of her was half-naked, his back to her.

The room was dim, but her keen eyesight saw him clearly.

Water droplets cascaded down his wet hair, dripping slowly, tracing the lines of his back. His upper body was perfectly sculpted, with well-defined muscles. The light from the bedroom lamps cast a soft glow over him, highlighting every detail.

As soon as the door creaked, the man turned around, facing her.

The light in the room wasn't bright, but it still illuminated his face partially. His eyes, dark as ink, fixed on her with a sharp, almost predatory gaze.

Vivian's mind went blank, and she stumbled backward, falling to the ground, the crystal figurine slipping from her hand and spinning across the floor.