Chapter 225: Flashback – The Lady in Red

Author’s POV (23 Years Ago)

Suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, the black horse that had been trailing in last place began to tear through the pack with a ferocious intensity. Thomas’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening as he watched the horse surge forward like a poisoned arrow.

The rhythm of its hooves quickened, striking the earth with a violent force, and the crowd erupted into a hysterical frenzy at this unfolding miracle.

While the world around her boiled with excitement, Violet remained perfectly still a marble statue amidst the chaos. Her eyes were fixed on the black horse as it skillfully overtook every competitor, crossing the finish line in a crushing victory. Everyone was stunned.

Thomas, unable to contain his thrill, impulsively moved to embrace Violet, but with a swift, fluid motion, she sensed his intent. She leaned away effortlessly, dodging his touch with a grace that made his gesture vanish into thin air.

"Congratulations, Thomas," she said in a poised tone. "You won the bet."

Thomas swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. "How did you know?" he asked, breathless.

Violet tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her expression serene. "Know what?"

"That he would win. Everyone was betting against him."

She turned away coolly, watching the horses as they began to calm and return to their stalls. "I told you," she replied with total indifference. "I just liked the color."

Morgan watched the scene from behind them, astonishment etched into his features.

Had Violet really chosen this outcast horse that had never tasted victory? A sudden pulse of admiration pierced his chest. Despite his efforts to remind himself she was a "whore," his heart betrayed him, thumping with an intensity he had never felt before.

Violet turned toward them, adjusting her bag. "Thank you, Thomas. This place is truly wonderful, but I must leave now."

Thomas caught her arm lightly. "No! We have to celebrate this magnificent win!"

Violet looked directly at Morgan. Their eyes locked in a long, ambiguous gaze. "I can’t," she said with a mysterious smile. "I have something very important to attend to tonight."

Morgan’s body stiffened. He knew instantly she was referring to their rendezvous. A cocktail of resentment and desire ignited in his blood, while Thomas stood between them, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the shadows.

Violet entered her home with swift steps. She headed straight for the shower to wash away the day’s fatigue, then dried her hair and opened her wardrobe with resolve.

She pulled out a short red dress with thin straps a gift from her mother for her last birthday that had only touched her skin once before.

In that moment, her mother entered the room. Her eyes lingered on the dress.

"Are you going somewhere?" 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"The girls asked me to go out with them," Violet replied, inspecting the fabric.

"Don’t be late," her mother cautioned.

"I won’t be, Mom," Violet answered without looking back.

"Dinner is ready," the mother added.

"I have no appetite," was Violet’s swift reply.

Her mother approached with concern. "Are you ill?"

"No, I just ate out," Violet said calmly.

Once her mother left, Violet resumed her ritual. The dress hugged her curves with precision.

She applied makeup that accentuated the sharpness of her eyes and the beauty of her features, let her hair fall freely over her shoulders, stepped into her high heels, and spritzed her fragrant perfume.

On her way out, she ran into Meredith, who recoiled in shock. "What is this? Are you going to a wedding?"

"I have a date," Violet replied coldly, brushing past her.

"A date?!" Meredith muttered, stunned.

Violet ignored her sister, left the house, and hailed a taxi. She gave the driver the address.

When she arrived, she climbed the stairs and stood before the door to Morgan’s apartment. She knocked softly. Seconds later, it swung open, and Morgan stood there, frozen. His eyes roamed over every detail of her in disbelief, speechless in the face of such overwhelming beauty.

Violet entered without waiting for an invitation, walking with poise toward the living room. She sat on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other in a dominant posture. "Your home is beautiful. Did I tell you that yesterday or not?"

Morgan struggled to find his breath. "No. You didn’t."

"Aren’t we going to drink anything?" she asked, her throat dry. "I’m thirsty."

"What can I get you?" he asked mechanically.

"Juice."

Morgan went into the kitchen, his heart pounding against his ribs. This girl was entirely different from the one who had visited him the night before as if a different soul inhabited the same body. He poured the juice and served it. She took a small sip, set the glass down, and asked boldly, "Can you tell me which part of my performance you didn’t like yesterday?"

Morgan faltered, trying to fix his cold mask with a shaky lie. "I didn’t enjoy it when I was inside you. I felt like you weren’t responding to me."

A mysterious glint shone in her eyes. "Hmm... I hope you enjoy my performance tonight."

"We’ll see," he challenged.

"Shall we go to your room?" she commanded.

He nodded. "Let’s go."

She followed him. The moment they entered the room, he pulled her to him with force and leaned in to kiss her, but their lips barely grazed for a fleeting second before she turned her face away smoothly. Morgan scoffed. "What happened? Are you shy now?"

She looked at him from a hair’s breadth away, their breaths mingling. "I’m trying to please you with my performance. So, let me be the one to lead our relationship tonight."

"How?" he asked, bewildered.

She pushed his hand away from her waist. "Can you sit on the bed?"

Morgan sat, watching her in awe as she walked to the dresser and began rummaging through the drawers. "What are you doing?" he asked, puzzled.

She didn’t answer until she exclaimed, "Found it!" and pulled out a necktie.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked gloomily.

She approached him, pressing a finger against his bare chest. "No questions. You just follow orders."

Morgan was utterly perplexed. This girl was nothing like the Violet of yesterday. A serious question crossed his mind: Does she have a split personality?

Her fingers began to unbutton his shirt with agonizing slowness, his heart thumping with every button released. She cast the shirt aside. "Lay back on the bed."

Morgan complied. She climbed over him, straddling his lap, her red dress pressing against him. He felt himself stir instantly. She took his hands and tied them firmly to the headboard with the necktie. "Is this necessary?" Morgan asked, trying to move.

"I want you to experience something different," she replied, tightening the knot. "Don’t ask me. I’m the expert here."

Morgan’s features contorted with conflicting emotions desire warred with disgust at her brazenness. But she leaned over him until her face was directly above his. She traced his features with her finger, bringing her lips tantalizingly close to his without touching them, mimicking his own desire.

Morgan couldn’t take it and lifted his head to kiss her, but she pulled back with a cold smile.

"Don’t rush, Morgan," she whispered. "We need to take our time so you’re satisfied... this time."