Page 20 of Beautiful Villain
Some things people wanted control over not because they were dangerous—but because they were sensitive.Because they hurt.
It took me a moment to connect the pieces.Clothing sizes.Fit.Mirrors that were never kind.The small, quiet humiliations women carried without ever saying a word about them.The need to decide what the world was allowed to see—and what stayed hidden.
It was… human.
And completely unnecessary, as far as I could tell.
She was striking.Anyone with eyes could see that.But insecurity didn’t care about logic.It didn’t listen to reassurance or facts.Once it settled in, it stayed, no matter how little sense it made.
So I did the smarter thing.
“Fine,” I said.“You choose.”
Relief flickered across her face before she smoothed it away.She nodded once.“Thank you.”
I resumed walking, my hand still at her back, this time deliberate, as I steered her toward my office.
“You need to learn how to behave in front of my men,” I said, keeping my tone even.
She glanced sideways at me, one brow lifting.“I thought I was doing okay.”
“You were.”I let her digest that before I continued.“But I’d prefer you didn’t sit with them again while wearing nothing but a robe.”
Her lips curved, amused but not careless.“Noted.”
“I trust my men with my life,” I added.“They’re loyal.Disciplined.Capable of extreme violence in my name.”A pause.“They are also, unfortunately, men.”
That earned a quiet huff of laughter.“Fair.”
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs.She stopped too, close enough that I could feel the warmth she carried with her.
Without thinking—and immediately regretting that mistake—I reached out and adjusted the collar of her robe.I tugged it just enough to sit properly on her shoulders, neat and secure.
My knuckles brushed her skin.
She was warm.Fresh from the shower.Real in a way that caught me off guard.
I pulled my hand back at once, the brief contact lingering longer than it should have.A sharp, unwelcome awareness settled in my chest—something I hadn’t asked for and had no intention of encouraging.
I stepped back, creating space on purpose, before closeness turned into something familiar.
Getting used to her would be a mistake.
And I was very good at not making those.
“We’ll start with clothes,” I said.“Then we’ll teach you hownotto die.”
She exhaled, shaky but amused.“Comforting.”
And as I watched her hobble upstairs, I adjusted my plans yet again.Because teaching her the rules was easy.Teaching myself not to want to break them?That was going to be the real problem.
I pausedin the doorway of her room instead of going in.
She was sitting on the couch, one leg bent carefully, my shirt hanging loose on her frame.It was oversized on her, but she wore it well, tying it loosely at the navel.
“Well,” I said after a moment, because the silence was starting to feel dangerous.“That’s unfortunate.”
She looked up at me, brows drawing together.“Unfortunate?”
