Devil's Prisoner of Love by Prefer

In another luxurious villa, Ivy crawled on the floor like an obedient pet, dressed provocatively and adorned with a necklace around her neck. It was the only way to please her so-called master, a man who found joy in others' suffering. The women who stayed by his side bore scars, both visible and hidden, yet many were drawn to him for his extravagant generosity.

He had a peculiar promise: any woman who spent a night with him and managed to stay conscious until morning would be granted one wish. Ivy had heard of this and schemed her way into his bed.

That night was unforgettable. Several times, she thought she wouldn't survive. But the thought of Genevieve, still imprisoned, spurred her on. Hatred can blind a person, but it can also make them stronger. She clung to that fire in her heart, refusing to let it extinguish.

On that fateful night, her lack of fear and hesitation caught his attention, earning her a place by his side. She knew he possessed the power to rescue Genevieve easily, and that power was something she wanted to harness. Ivy was determined to use this man to utterly destroy Aurora, forcing her to experience the same pain Ivy once endured.

No price was too high for her goal. Even now, she crawled toward the man lounging on the sofa like a submissive pet. "Master," she murmured.

The man, known only as Mr. Raymond, had a heavy addiction to cigars. Most of the time, a cloud of smoke surrounded him. From the day Ivy followed him back, she had been recuperating-something common for all his women. No matter how much they prepared themselves mentally, their bodies were still flesh and blood. His sadistic tendencies left many women bedridden for days, sometimes even months.

He was like an ancient emperor, summoning women at will with no intention of forming emotional bonds. His purpose was singular: physical pleasure.

For the women he called upon, the experience was a mix of fear and excitement. They were thrilled by the lavish rewards they would receive afterward but terrified of his brutal methods. Not everyone could endure his cruel "punishments."

already heard about Mr. Raymond's ways. Resistance was

love or romance with him. Any woman foolish enough to hope for his affection met a

was chiseled and sharp, a reflection of his cold, ruthless personality. He was like a blade-lethal and unyielding, leaving no room

possible. Her trembling fingers reached for the towel draped around his waist, pulling

such a provocative gesture would be irresistible. Yet Mr. Raymond merely tilted

"Smile," he commanded.

absolute. Even if he demanded her death, she would have to comply. After a brief pause, she forced a

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tried again, her smile faltering under his icy gaze.

thoughts. His mind wandered back to an earlier moment, a fleeting memory. He had been at a busy street

the kind of smile that felt

none had ever truly captivated him. The world was full of

her own business empire. That was the first time Mr. Raymond had looked up,

her composure unshaken.

was waiting at a red light when he noticed her standing there, her aura icy