I Was Their Clown, Now I Wear the Crown

Chapter six

Maybe it was the shock, or maybe she was just paralyzed with fear, but Victoria didn't scream or struggle.

She just stood there, stiff as a board, her mouth agape as she stared at me in terror.

My body was pressed against hers. I gazed at her delicate face, so close to mine. I saw her trembling eyelashes, the slight tremor in her dark, clear pupils, the way her beautiful red lips quivered.

My hormones surged. My blood-engorged brain wasn't thinking anymore. All I wanted was to unleash my revenge on her.

This self-righteous woman who had repaid my kindness with betrayal.

She had cost me everything.

My life was already in ruins. So what if I went back to prison for this? As long as I could release all this anger and hatred.

"What are you doing? I'm warning you, don't do anything stupid..."

Victoria finally found her voice, but she didn't scream. She didn't struggle.

She probably knew the hotel room was soundproof, and she knew struggling was useless.

"I just want to give you a taste of what it feels like. A taste you should have gotten a long time ago."

I pressed her hands against the wall above her head and used my free hand to grip her proud chin.

She flinched, desperately turning her head away and trying to squirm free.

I tightened my grip, forcing her face back towards me. "Ms. Sterling, my dear boss," I said coldly, "I suggest you cooperate. Don't make me get rough. Don't tell me you don't know how."

"Or, you could beg. Just don't look at me with those arrogant eyes. If you do, I might consider being gentle. But if you prefer it rough, I'm more than happy to oblige."

Her face was beet red. She stared at me, terrified but still defiant.

That look—still so arrogant, so condescending.

Enraged, I grabbed the collar of her nightgown and ripped it.

"No..." A choked sob finally escaped her lips. I looked up and saw a tear slide down her cheek.

"No... please, I was wrong, I'm sorry... please don't do this..."

She was crying now, shaking her head, her long hair flying wildly.

My breathing grew heavy, not from desire, but from an internal battle.

My line... I had a line... No matter how messed up I was, I couldn't do that to a woman while she was crying. My conscience wouldn't let me.

I cursed under my breath and reluctantly pulled away from her.

She quickly pulled her torn nightgown together to cover her chest and scrambled backwards, retreating to the far side of the bed.

She didn't dare run. She tried to pull the blanket up to shield herself, but I was still sitting on it, and she couldn't move it. So she just sat on the floor, hugging her knees, watching me in terror.

Her hair was a mess, cascading over her pale, delicate shoulders. There were still tears on her face. She looked so pitiful and vulnerable, a world away from the icy, arrogant woman she was before.

I took a deep breath, walked over to a chair by the bed, and sat down. I lit a cigarette and took a long, hard drag.

The thick smoke filled my lungs, calming me down a little.

"You know why I didn't fuck you?" I asked suddenly.

Victoria was still on the floor, hugging her knees, not daring to look at me. She didn't answer.

I said coldly, "It's because you're not some goddess. Not every man on earth wants to sleep with you. You're just a reasonably pretty woman with a decent body. Don't think so highly of yourself. There are plenty of women like you out there."

She remained silent.

I didn't say any more. I just smoked, one cigarette after another. I didn't want to leave. I just wanted to sit there and sort through my emotions.

The room fell silent, the only sound was me smoking. Victoria stayed on the floor, occasionally brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead.

She had stopped crying. The fear was gone from her face. As her expression turned blank, the arrogant, icy look I hated so much slowly returned.

I couldn't stand to look at her like that. I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray, stood up, picked up my shirt from the floor, and walked out the door.

I'd never been to Chiang Mai before. Compared to the neon-drenched chaos of Seaview City or the tourist-packed streets of Bangkok, Chiang Mai felt more like a beautiful, serene park. The quiet, clean streets, the flowers blooming everywhere... the only thing that didn't quite fit were the noisy tuk-tuks zipping past.

A strange, quiet city seemed like the perfect place to clear my head.

I wandered the streets and found myself in a bar. It wasn't loud, but it wasn't quiet either.

I walked past a few groups of people with beautiful faces—I couldn't tell if they were men or women—and went to the bar. In fluent Thai, I asked the bartender for a local beer, then sat there drinking by myself.

My hand brushed against the employee ID in my pocket. The one I got when I was Victoria's assistant. It was just a piece of plastic trash now.

I pulled it out and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

A Thai man sitting next to me, probably in his thirties, wearing a floral shirt and beach shorts, noticed my action. He glanced into the trash can.

To my surprise, he picked up the ID card, looked at it carefully, then put his hands together in a respectful gesture and spoke to me politely in Thai.

"Hello, are you from America?"

Even though I was in a foul mood, I returned the gesture out of politeness. "Hello, yes, I am."

"An assistant to Ms. Victoria from Zenith Software in Seaview City?"

I was taken aback. Zenith Software was my former company, the one Victoria had brought her team to Thailand for.

And Ms. Victoria, of course, was her. Thai people don't usually use last names when addressing someone.

The ID had the company name and my position written in Thai, so of course, this guy could read it. But why was he striking up a conversation with me about it?

"My name is Sathit. I work for the BTT Group here in Chiang Mai."

It all clicked. The BTT Group, a major Thai textile company. Victoria's target client.