Mr. Villain's Lovely Wife

Chapter 28

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“Is this really her financial report?” Calen frowned as he skimmed the pages Beth handed him. “All this for a cultural center?” He snorted, shaking his head. For the first time, he saw just how ambitious Izzy’s plans were. Until now, he’d always thought of her as innovative, but this–this was bordering on reckless.

“She must have known it was over budget,” he muttered. “That’s probably why she had Sherry ‘polish‘ it for her.” A faint smile played on his lips. Izzy was overreaching, and he was ready to capitalize on it.

Calen leaned back, his smile sharpening. “Actually, tell Sherry to make it even bigger. Add a few… enhancements.” It wouldn’t ruin her presentation, but it would throw her off enough to make things difficult. “And over the weekend, I need you to work on the adjustments I mentioned. We’re aiming to cut costs here. Limit whatever you can on the cultural center–strip it down. I want those reports on my desk by Monday morning. Got it?”

“Yes, Mr. Weiss,” Beth and Simon nodded in unison.

“Thanks, Beth. Simon. Have a good weekend,” he said, watching as they left the office. He knew it’d be a busy weekend for them, and that suited him just fine.

Once the door closed, his attention shifted to Monica, who stood nearby in a knee–length dress that clung to her figure. His gaze lingered on her for a long moment before he spoke again. Any texts from Izzy?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.

She was still his woman, after all. Cold and stubborn, sure, but someone with the kind of class his father would approve of- a perfect future wife, if only she could stop getting in her own way.

“No,” Monica answered. She walked toward him. “I thought Izzy’s idea of a cultural center would be good?” Monica suddenly asked. Without a second thought, she sat on his lap and started playing on his laptop.

Calen eyed the door. It was already eight at night on a Friday; all of the staff had left, including Izzy, so he wasn’t worried that someone might walk in on them. He placed his hand on her leg. “I did a little research, and it seems that she’s right. A cultural center would work, but… hers was over the top. Father didn’t examine the reports when he was there. He liked the idea of a cultural center too, so I thought there’s no harm in presenting something like that in front of him.” However, Calen would make sure he was better, bolder, and even more innovative. Izzy focused on adapting to the local culture, but Calen was focused on something else.

Something he knew everyone would like.

Technology.

Monica frowned, her brows knitting as she glanced at the numbers on the screen. “I don’t understand a thing you’re saying.” she admitted, flicking through the report with disinterest. “All this talk about budget cuts and technology… why don’t you just make the place flashy and luxurious like everyone else does?”

Calen smirked, his hand still resting on her leg. “Izzy’s idea might have its merits, but she’ll lose this game. She’s too focused on the cultural angle. And that’s fine–she’s playing it safe. But I’m going for something better, something Father can’t ignore.”

you so… happy that

lightly on her leg, eyes distant for a moment. He enjoyed this–having the edge, the advantage he’d always felt he deserved. And

out the rest. Winning this project meant he’d prove to everyone, especially his father, who was the real visionary in the company. Izzy’s cultural center would

nowhere, his hand moved up to Monica’s chest. He unashamedly

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Jan 2 D

Chapter 28

here,” she said,

you say?”

Calen suddenly pulled the front of her dress, ripping it in

two souls enjoying each other’s bodies echoed

standards, a sprawling room within the mansion that seemed more like a private retreat than just another guest room. Warm, muted lighting bathed the plush carpet and high–end furnishings, accentuating

with an intricately carved headboard and sheets that looked like they’d been flown in from some remote corner of Europe just for this room. Nearby, a couch sat against the far wall, tasteful but uninviting for the purposes of sleep. Beyond the bed was a small living area with a low, polished table surrounded by deep–cushioned

enough shelving to satisfy even the most committed fashionista. To the right, double doors led to an en–suite bathroom complete with a freestanding tub,

we’re staying here?” she asked for what felt like the hundredth time, her gaze moving suspiciously

felt herself resisting the allure of it, stubbornly eying the couch. As luxurious as it looked, a couch would still be a couch. The thought of her back twisting into

faint, calming notes of chamomile drifting in her direction. She eyed him, puzzled. What kind of twenty–six–year–old drank chamomile tea

“If it’s not to your taste, we can always ask Grandfather to make a few changes.”

embrace. The mattress was firm yet soft enough to cradle every part of her perfectly. She let her legs dangle over the edge, sighing as the luxury washed over her. “What

was as casual as if he’d just stated the weather. Without warning, he strolled over, sat down beside

shot him a look. “A bit cozy, don’t you

gave a faint smirk. “I

notice his breathing had steadied. She turned to find his eyes closed, his profile soft in the dim light. She’d

Weird, she thought.

if he’d had anything done to his face. Surely, he wasn’t that vain right? And why did he seem