Annelise Valentine was thrown onto the bed. Before she could react, an intensely oppressive figure followed right behind her.
Jett Westgate planted his hands on either side of her, trapping her on the bed.
He stared down at her, his voice laced with a chilling coldness. "Did he touch you?"
Trapped beneath him, Annelise Valentine was forced to look up at the face so close to hers.
She could clearly feel the aggressive, masculine aura emanating from him.
Her heart began to pound uncontrollably, and even her voice trembled. "Let me go. Wh-what are you doing?"
"Answer me. Did he touch you?"
"No."
"Is that so?" The corner of Jett Westgate's mouth curved up. "I don't believe you."
"It seems a thorough inspection is in order."
Before the words had even faded, his hand hooked onto the collar of her shirt and yanked down.
"RRRIP—"
Annelise Valentine felt the collar loosen. She looked down to see her right collarbone and a small patch of her shoulder exposed to the air—and to his gaze.
"You're insane! What are you doing?!" Annelise Valentine was stunned. She screamed, pounding on Jett Westgate with her fists.
However, no sooner had she raised her hands than Jett Westgate seized her wrists and pinned them above her head.
"Let me go! Jett Westgate, you bastard! You scoundrel!" Shocked and furious, Annelise Valentine began to kick her legs wildly.
Jett Westgate turned a deaf ear to her curses. He lowered his head and kissed her collarbone.
With a slight pressure, he left a crimson mark on her skin.
"HISS—" Annelise Valentine's body instinctively tensed.
A few seconds later, a hickey, complete with teeth marks, appeared on her collarbone.
Having done all this, Jett Westgate finally moved off her.
Annelise Valentine shot up, her hand flying to cover her collarbone as her eyes instantly reddened. "Jett Westgate, you son of a bitch!"
He stood before her, his figure casting a shadow over her.
Seeing her teary-eyed yet forcing a ferocious look, he showed no guilt or inclination to back down. Instead, he spoke slowly, "Then that makes you a son of a bitch's wife."
"..."
Annelise Valentine was so furious her tears retreated halfway.
"Who's your wife?! I'd rather marry a toad, or the big yellow dog guarding the gate, than ever marry you!"
He took a small step forward and leaned down slightly. His gaze swept over the hand covering her collarbone as he spoke in an infuriating tone:
"Instead of worrying about what species you want to marry, I'd suggest you think about how to cover that up."
"After all, trying on dresses with a mark like that... probably wouldn't be very elegant."
With that, Jett Westgate left the room without a backward glance.
Leaving Annelise Valentine sitting alone on the bed, clutching the damned hickey, trembling with rage.
'Bastard!'
'Scoundrel!'
'Lunatic!'
She grabbed the pillow beside her and hurled it fiercely at the door!
"THUD!" The pillow hit the closed door with a soft impact and slid powerlessly to the floor.
***
At eight in the morning, the living room of Valentine Manor was abuzz with activity.
The chief sales director of the internationally renowned high-fashion brand ELLA was leading her team, arranging the gowns neatly as they awaited Annelise Valentine's selection.
Seeing Jett Westgate come downstairs, the director said respectfully, "Mr. Westgate, good morning. These are the engagement party gowns, all custom-tailored to yours and Miss Valentine's measurements. Please, make your selection."
But Annelise Valentine, who was supposed to be choosing a gown, was sitting at her bedroom vanity with faint dark circles under her eyes, her expression grim.
Jett Westgate hadn't held back. The hickey was deep and distinct, exceptionally conspicuous on her fair skin.
She tried every remedy—a cold compress, a hot compress—and finally had to resort to her ultimate weapon: liquid foundation.
One layer couldn't hide it. With two, the outline was still visible.
Three layers, four layers... After nearly forty minutes of fussing, she had finally concealed the hickey and teeth marks more or less. Unless someone looked closely, it was basically undetectable.
When she came downstairs, Jett Westgate was already dressed in a black, high-fashion suit, casually flipping through a financial magazine. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps.
Morning sunlight streamed through the massive glass windows, bathing him in light. It had to be said, when the man wasn't talking or being infuriating, just sitting there, he was like a masterpiece—his presence powerful, his aura radiating a noble and imposing air.
The fire in Annelise Valentine's heart inexplicably flared up again when their eyes met.
She walked over irritably and glanced at the gowns.
The ELLA sales team had already set up a preliminary display of their finest gowns in the living room.
Even though she was angry, Annelise Valentine had to admit that the preparations this time were quite impressive.
A top-tier luxury brand like ELLA didn't typically accept private custom orders; their ready-to-wear collections were all designed uniformly according to supermodel proportions and the brand's style. But this time, they had made an exception for Annelise Valentine, designing nearly 20 gowns specifically based on her measurements and preferences.
The reason was simple—the Valentine Family was one of ELLA's major shareholders, so of course, they would be received with the highest possible honors.
The gowns before her were all works of art, each one so beautiful it was hard to look away.
As she was admiring them, the sound of a car engine and cheerful conversation came from the entrance. Both sets of parents had returned from the old residence.
Annelise Valentine subconsciously touched her collarbone, a little nervous.
"Mom, Dad, Uncle, Auntie, you're back." She greeted them, trying her best to appear natural.
The parents all seemed to be in high spirits. They walked in laughing, their attention immediately captured by the gowns in the living room.
"Oh my, so many beautiful dresses!" Mrs. Valentine's eyes lit up as she stepped forward to examine them closely. "ELLA has really outdone themselves this time!"
The elders immediately pulled Annelise Valentine over to discuss which style was prettier and more elegant. Surprisingly, no one noticed anything unusual about her collarbone.
Jett Westgate only offered a concise opinion or two when the elders asked, playing the part of the impeccable son-in-law-to-be perfectly.
In the end, they selected a white main gown, a red one for the toasts, and two backup styles.
Both sets of parents, having had a delightful chat and finalized the dress choices, contentedly went to their respective rooms to rest.
Once again, the two of them were left alone in the living room.
Jett Westgate looked at her with a playful smile. "Nice cover-up job."
His gaze swept over her collarbone. She had actually managed to hide it so well there was no trace. 'Looks like I was too gentle,' he thought.
Annelise Valentine shot him a look as sharp as daggers. "Get lost! If you ever dare to mess with me again, I'll—"
"You'll what?" Jett Westgate cut her off before she could finish. Far from feeling threatened, he found her bluffing even more amusing.
"Give me one back?" He tilted his head slightly, his tone deliberately slow and carrying a punchable sense of magnanimity, as if he were giving her a chance. "Go on, try it. I'd love to see how good your technique is, babe."
"Jett Westgate! What is your brain filled with, smut? Do you think everyone's like you, a dog that bites anyone it can get its teeth into?!"
"Get rid of those filthy thoughts! This young lady has NO! INTEREST! in your scrawny neck!"