Chapter 179 The Perfect Trap
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Mia lifted her face, all traces of calculation vanishing from her expression as effortlessly as wiping away steam from a mirror. Her eyes, wide, liquid, and artfully distressed, regained their manufactured innocence, the perfect portrait of a nervous college student.
“I waited for you near the university this morning,” she explained, her voice trembling with just the right amount of hopeful hesitation, “but you didn’t show up. So I… I thought maybe I’d find you at the bar tonight.”
Josh blinked slowly, his alcohol–clouded mind sifting through fragmented memories. There had been a promise of an umbrella, hadn’t there? And this morning he had driven past Hoverdale Tech University in a rage at the Bennett family, his mind too stormy to remember trivialities.
Guilt stung me. Damn it. I blew them off.
“Right,” he murmured, his shoulders relaxing. “Makes sense.”
He tried to stand, but his legs folded like paper.
Mia lunged forward, her grip deceptively fragile. “Let me help you!”
Josh studied her up close, the way her teeth troubled her lower lip and the serious wrinkle in her brow, and chuckled softly. The girl is quite innocent.
Mia pretended not to notice the smirk that appeared to be at his mouth and purposely pretended to be struggling to help Josh.
Josh was walking a bit staggered, and the weight of the whole person was almost on top of Mia.
It was definitely impossible to drive a car in this condition.
Josh fished his keys from his pocket, the motion awkward. “You’re driving?”
“Y–Yes!” She took them with both hands, her fingers brushing his palm in a way that could’ve been accidental.
Josh fumbled in his pocket and produced the car keys, dangling them between his fingers. “I need you to get me home tonight,” he slurred, the words thick with alcohol.
Mia accepted the keys with both hands, her fingertips brushing his palm in a gesture that could have been accidental. A glint of triumph flashed in her fox–like eyes. There and gone in an instant, like a knife blade catching moonlight.
She guided Josh to the sleek black car with exaggerated care, her arm wrapped firmly around his waist. With practiced efficiency, she maneuvered his limp body into the backseat, taking extra care to ensure his head didn’t bump against the doorframe. The moment the door clicked shut, her entire demeanor shifted, shoulders squaring, lips curling into a victorious smirk as she tossed her hair over one shoulder.
Josh slumped against the leather seats, his breathing already deepening into sleep. He mumbled an address, some luxury high–rise downtown, before consciousness abandoned him completely.
Mia slid into the driver’s seat and adjusted the mirrors with precise movements. The engine purred to life beneath her hands as she shifted gears with the confidence of someone who’d driven far more powerful vehicles than this. The car peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing against asphalt.
Chapter 179 The Perfect Trap
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Finished
Hoverdale’s skyline blurred past the windows; a riot of neon signs and glittering high–rises reflected in the windshield. The city pulsed around them, oblivious to the predator in its midst.
The car glided into an exclusive downtown neighborhood where glass towers pierced the clouds
After arriving at the destination, Mia helped the drunken Josh to his doorstep. His fingerprint unlocked the door to a sprawling penthouse that smelled of leather and expensive cologne.
Mia’s sharp eyes immediately caught the blinking red light in the living room corner, which is a security camera discreetly mounted near the ceiling. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she schooled her features into perfect distress as she half–carried, half–dragged Josh toward the bedroom.
The bedroom was a study in masculine luxury, with cream–colored walls, dark walnut furniture, and an abstract painting above the bed that exploded with violent reds and golds.
Mia’s
gaze darted to every corner, confirming the absence of cameras. The tension in her shoulders eased as a slow, predatory smile spread across her face.
With a grunt, she dumped Josh onto the king–sized bed. He didn’t stir, his limbs splayed like a broken marionette.
“Sir?” Mia called softly, hovering over him.
No response.
“Sir!” She shook his shoulder harder, nails digging into his skin through the fabric.
Still nothing but steady breathing.
A cold laugh escaped her lips. Perfect.
With one sharp yank, she tore open her blouse. Buttons flew like shrapnel, pinging against the hardwood floor. The delicate lace camisole beneath left little to the imagination as she mussed her hair into artful disarray, strands clinging to her tear–streaked cheeks.
“No! Stop!”
Her scream shattered the penthouse’s silence, raw and terrified. She bolted from the room, arms crossed over her heaving chest, the picture of violated innocence.
Mia stumbled into the night, her ruined blouse flapping open in the wind. Streetlights caught the tears glistening on her cheeks, the delicate straps of her camisole gleaming against flushed skin. Her shadow stretched long and thin behind her, a twisted marionette severed from its strings.
She paused at the corner, shoulders shaking with manufactured sobs, then walked with panic in the street.
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