The Villain Who Stole Hearts-Chapter 95: Saoirse’s Secret Indulgence

"Davenport Group? You mean Joseph’s company?" Saoirse’s expression darkened as suspicion crept into her voice. "I heard they’ve been having some issues lately, something about a funding gap. But why are you suddenly involved with the Davenport Group?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Wait... don’t tell me—you’ve got your eyes on Joseph’s daughter now?!"

Sierra Davenport.

The heiress of the Davenport Group, often seen in high-end venues. As the polished public face of the once-notorious Black Dragon Society, Saoirse had run into her on more than one occasion during business banquets and social events.

To be fair, Saoirse had Veil completely figured out by now.

This guy couldn’t even toss out a casual line without her sniffing out the flaws in it. A single slip of the tongue was enough for her to dig deeper and fish out the truth.

Veil cleared his throat and brought a clenched fist to his lips as he coughed lightly. Seeing the suspicious look on Saoirse’s face, he quickly straightened up and handed over his phone.

"If you don’t believe me, go ahead and check it yourself."

Saoirse blinked, visibly surprised.

He actually handed over his phone?

Was he really that confident in his innocence? freёnovelkiss.com

But if she did look, wouldn’t she be walking right into his little trap?

Besides, with someone like Veil, who had a hundred secrets wrapped beneath a smile, did she really think she could keep him in line with just a complaint? Her outburst just now was nothing more than a venting of frustration—there was no way she could really restrain him.

She rolled her eyes. "Who wants to look through your phone? If I had that much free time, I’d rather read through a few more documents."

But then something didn’t sit right.

"Hold on... why do the fingerprint marks on your screen look different from mine?"

She pulled out her own phone and pointed at the pale smudges near the bottom of the vertical screen—standard wear and tear from frequently used buttons. Every phone had them.

But Veil’s phone?

The smudges were horizontal. And spread out. One here, another there, like scattered breadcrumbs.

"Because," Veil replied without missing a beat, already slipping an arm around her waist through her shirt with practiced ease, "I often watch... interesting videos."

He didn’t even finish the sentence before going in for the kill, his hand moving with the familiarity of someone who had done this far too many times before.

Veil’s fingers traced the curve of Saoirse’s waist through the silk of her dress, the fabric whispering under his touch. When his knuckles dipped into the tempting divide of her hips, he could feel the firm resilience of her muscles, warm and alive beneath his fingertips—like unwrapping a long-awaited gift. Saoirse’s spine arched involuntarily, a half-moan escaping her throat before dissolving into a shuddering breath.

That reaction ignited something primal in Veil. He cradled the back of her neck and claimed her mouth, tasting the lingering tang of blackcurrant and mint from her cocktail. Saoirse met him with unexpected hunger, her tongue sliding past his teeth, her nails biting into the fabric over his shoulder blades. Their mingled breaths fogged the chilled air between them, and Veil could count every flutter of her lashes against his skin.

His right hand still roamed that maddening slope, thumb pressing deliberately along the dip of her tailbone through the dress. Each stroke drew another tremble from her, her thigh brushing against his wool-blend trousers with a hushed rasp. When he finally nipped at her lower lip, the metallic hint of blood mixed with champagne snapped his last thread of restraint—this was far beyond teasing.

Clothes long discarded, Veil lifted Saoirse onto his lap, her bare skin searing against his chest. Every thrust wrenched a gasp from her throat, her fingers clawing red trails down his back as pleasure crackled up her spine like live wire. She tipped her head back, keening, as if the next wave might unravel her completely.

Later, he carried her to the bathroom, pinning her against the fogged mirror. Their reflection blurred as her fingertips dragged streaks across the glass, only for Veil to lace his fingers through hers, trapping them. The pace turned punishing, each snap of his hips leaving her boneless against him. In the mirror, her cheeks burned, lips parted around ragged breaths, pupils blown wide with abandon.

"Look at yourself," Veil growled into her ear, his breath scalding. She obeyed, watching through half-lidded eyes as he marked her—inside and out—until the mounting pleasure short-circuited thought, until she was nothing but sensation and surrender.

Then his grip tightened on her jaw. "Open." The command was velvet-wrapped steel. She obeyed, tongue resting heavy on her bottom lip like an offering.

The cold press of a syringe met her mouth, its smooth tip a shock against the heat within. Veil depressed the plunger, flooding her throat with thick, metallic-sweet fluid—something unmistakably *him*. Saoirse’s throat worked greedily, lashes fluttering as she swallowed, her tongue curling around the device to chase every drop.

"Taste it," Veil murmured, swiping his thumb over a silver strand at the corner of her lips. "Let it become you."

Her body trembled with each gulp, her hazy gaze locked on him even as the syringe withdrew. For a heartbeat, her tongue darted out, chasing the ghost of it—a cat licking cream from its whiskers.

...

"Ding! Congratulations to the host for earning +1000 Villain Points!"

Inside the office, Veil lounged comfortably on the couch, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He took a deep drag and blew out a slow stream of smoke rings, clearly enjoying himself.

"Your constitution’s really weak," he muttered with a faint sigh, glancing at Saoirse beside him.

After a moment of thought, he reached into his shirt and pulled out a pill, pressing it into Saoirse’s hand as she walked closer.

She frowned, her stunning face caught in a mix of pain, sweetness, and an annoyed sort of shyness. She grumbled, "What is this? Bully me and then hand me a candy like I’m some little girl?"

Veil rolled his eyes. "You’re overthinking it. This is an incredibly rare cleansing pill. It purifies your body’s impurities, enhances physical fitness, and even makes your skin fairer and smoother."

Saoirse eyed the pill suspiciously. It didn’t look particularly special—just a faint, herbal fragrance.

She didn’t really think Veil would give her a fake, but the humiliation from earlier still lingered in her heart. How could this guy have zero restraint?

He knew the vice-leader of her Rose Division was right outside, yet he still pushed her that far?

Was he just completely ignoring her position as the leader of the Rose Division?

Seriously, was there anyone more shameless than him?

Her lips still carried a taste from earlier—he’d gone too far.

At this point, she really started to question what part of his brain he used to make decisions.

Holding the cleansing pill between her fingers, Saoirse sat on the couch, purposefully leaving a bit of space between them. She scoffed, "So what, you’re saying all this because you think my skin isn’t good enough? Giving me this pill to ’improve’ myself so I can better satisfy your twisted conquest complex?"

Veil didn’t even flinch. He chuckled like the scoundrel he was. "If that’s how you want to interpret it, I won’t argue."

"Joseph from the Davenport Group was willing to let his daughter kneel and beg just to get one of these pills, and I still turned him down. But when I offer it to you, you think I have some hidden motive?"

He smirked, eyes gleaming.

"I mean, Sierra—that pretty campus queen—has practically been throwing herself at me just hoping I’d have some ulterior motive."

Yeah, he was a jerk.

But sometimes, especially in moments like this, things needed to be said. Otherwise, a joke might be taken as truth.

By laying his cards on the table, he came off less as a schemer and more like a brutally honest man—still a jerk, but with a hint of charm.

And by bringing up Sierra, it hit even harder.

She was beautiful too—just like Saoirse. But in the contrast, it was clear: Saoirse held a special place in Veil’s heart. He was telling her, See? I gave this to you, not her. You should feel special.

"Hmph! At least you still have some sense," Saoirse muttered, a bit pleased despite herself. She popped the pill into her mouth, savoring it a little before swallowing.

It had a faint, lingering taste—one that oddly reminded her of Veil’s energy.

Weird.

She eyed Veil, who was still sitting a bit too far away.

"Why are you sitting so far?" she asked suspiciously.

A low-EQ guy would’ve said something like You’re the one who moved away. How’s that my fault?

But Veil? High-EQ to the bone.

He flicked his cigarette to the floor, crushed it with his foot, then scooted closer. "Didn’t you say before that you hated the smell of smoke? I thought I’d keep some distance so you wouldn’t be bothered."

Saoirse gave him a sultry eye-roll and reached out to place her hand on his leg.

She didn’t say it out loud, but inside she was practically glowing.

She had imagined this scene countless times—though none of those daydreams included the mess that had just happened.

Still, now that Veil was here, those fantasies... kind of felt like they had become the new normal.

She didn’t fight it. Not really.

Veil had already carved out a place in her heart.

Both her body and her soul had been completely captured by this man.

Catching the meaning in her eyes, Veil smiled, opened his hand, and interlaced his fingers with hers.

Saoirse wanted to let out a haughty little scoff—but instead, for some reason, the moment melted her defenses.

Her frustration over him not visiting sooner, all her inner complaints, vanished in the warmth of the moment.

What came out of her mouth wasn’t a scoff—it was a soft, contented sigh.

"Alright, out with it. What did you come here for?" Saoirse raised her chin at him. "Don’t think I can’t see through that sneaky mind of yours. You wouldn’t just show up without an agenda."

Saoirse wasn’t some naive girl who thought about love all day.

If Veil had suddenly shown up, there had to be a reason.

And the way she asked so directly? It meant she was ready to help if she could.

Veil gave her hand a gentle squeeze and slipped his arm around her waist. "I missed you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother you over something so minor. I was just wondering if any of the girls at your bar do that kind of work."

Saoirse tilted her head. "What kind of work?"

Smack.

Veil didn’t answer. He just patted her thigh.

That said it all.

Saoirse’s expression instantly darkened. Her brows furrowed.

"What the hell are you thinking? We literally just finished, and now your mind’s already going to that trash again? Don’t you know those women are filthy? What if you catch something?! No way! My bar is a legit business, alright?"

Veil sighed dramatically. "That’s the thing—I keep thinking about this kind of stuff. So I figured, maybe if I exposed myself to it a little, I’d gain some self-control. Learn to rein it in. You know, for my image."

Saoirse stared at him like he’d grown another head.

"What, the sun rise in the west today?"

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well... my bar is legit. But I can’t speak for a few of the atmosphere girls we’ve hired. If you really want to ’see the world,’ I could maybe recommend one or two... but don’t mess around. Some of them are really dangerous."

Her face turned slightly pink as she spoke.

Suddenly flustered, she withdrew her hand from his and stood up. Avoiding his gaze, she walked toward the bathroom inside the office.

"Get some rest. That cleansing pill you gave me... it’s kicking in."