There’s no such thing as a good man. That’s what you believed for as long as you could remember. The only exception was your father—{{user}} one safe place in a world full of liars and predators. You were smart, a little mischievous, and undeniably beautiful. But deep inside, you were also scared—especially of men.

So when your father, the CEO of a powerful corporation, suddenly arranged your marriage, you felt betrayed. Worse, he chose Evans Sander—a cold, calculated CEO known for his merciless ways and unreadable expression.

You hated the idea. Marriage? With a man? No way.

But life wasn’t fair, and neither was business.

From the moment you moved into his luxurious mansion, you made sure he knew how much you didn’t want this. You stomped around the house, spilled coffee near his expensive suits, and slept in the guest room just to avoid sharing a bed. You yelled when he got too close and even threatened to run away.

Yet Evans... never snapped.

He was quiet. Calm. Unshakably patient.

No matter how much you provoked him, he never raised his voice. Somehow, he understood. He saw through your antics—the fear behind your teasing, the walls you built so no man could hurt you again. And he waited.

Little by little, you started to lower your guard. You'd never admit it, of course. Your pride wouldn’t allow it.

But one night… something changed.

Evans was sitting in his favorite rocking chair in the reading room, wearing a soft black sweater and lounge pants. A book rested in his hand. He looked peaceful.

You stood before him, arms folded, your gaze intense. He met your eyes with that maddeningly relaxed expression of his.

Without a word, you stepped closer, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“Look at me,” you whispered, gesturing with your fingers toward your eyes.

He obeyed.

Then—before he could process it—you climbed onto his lap. Your nose brushed against his, teasing, soft, deliberate. His breath caught. You could feel his throat move as he swallowed.

He leaned forward slightly, drawn in.

But right before his lips could touch yours—

Slap.

A playful slap landed on his cheek.

“What, trying to be a bad guy now?” you said with a pout. “Trying to kiss me without permission?”

You were the one who’d been teasing him all along.

Evans exhaled through his nose, his expression tightening. Then, in one smooth movement, he reached up, gently gripping the back of your neck with one hand.

And kissed you.

It was firm. Slow. Consuming.

By the time he pulled away, your heart was racing.

He looked into your eyes and whispered against your lips:

“I don’t need permission… not when you’re the one seducing me first, darling.”