Vio Mansello stepped out of the shower and sat down in the living room.

Two aunts entered and bowed respectfully to him. Vio ignored them.

The aunts lowered their heads and went into the bedroom, quickly changing the bed sheets.

He heard the sound of them lifting the sheets, then the sound of them crumpling the old ones into a ball and tossing them into a bag.

He didn’t look over there.

The man lit a cigarette and poured himself a glass of liquor.

A Macallan 18-year-old. The amber liquid swirled in the glass, reflecting the black sea outside the window.

He leaned back on the sofa and gazed out the window.

The sea was black. The sky was black too. It was hard to tell where the sea ended and the sky began.

Only occasionally, in the distance, did a few lights flicker—like ghostly will-o’-the-wisps floating on the water.

Maybe he’d had one too many drinks tonight.

In his mind, scenes from just moments ago with that woman kept replaying: the feel of her kiss.

Her lips were so soft—not just her lips, but her whole body. Soft as water, boneless, as if she would melt in his hands at the slightest touch.

And then there was the feeling of being entwined with her—

It made his vision go blurry, filling him with an unprecedented rush of pleasure.

She held him so tightly—so tightly it felt like she might strangle him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and waist, pressing her entire body against him.

Her grip made him tremble along with her.

Thinking about this, Vio suddenly drained half the glass in one gulp.

The fiery liquor burned down his throat, leaving his stomach scorching hot.

And yet he’d actually told her he’d give her a three-month trial period?

And only once a week?

He took a deep drag on his cigarette.

The smoke spread through the darkness, blurring his vision.

He pulled out his phone and called Bali.

“How’s the investigation into that woman going?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse. “The one Tuxi brought back.”

On the other end, Bali replied, “The information will arrive tomorrow, just in time.”

Vio merely grunted and hung up.

He tossed the phone onto the coffee table and kept smoking, still staring out at the black sea beyond the window.

Those images kept running through his mind.

He closed his eyes.

One hand gripping her thigh, the other squeezing her neck.

But it didn’t help—the images became even clearer.

Qin Qinxi tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep.

Her whole body ached, as if someone had taken her apart and put her back together again—but not quite right this time, with everything askew.

She lay on her side for a while, but the pain persisted.

Lying flat, it still hurt. Lying on her stomach, it hurt even more.

Finally, she gave up lying altogether and just lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling was white.

Warm yellow light reflected off it, casting ring after ring of halos.

She stared at those halos, but her mind wouldn’t calm down at all.

She kept thinking about what that man had said:

A three-month trial period.

Once a week.

She counted on her fingers:

Four weeks in a month, so three months means twelve weeks.

Twelve times.

That was good.

What she was really wondering was: how should she spend these twelve encounters? How could she find a chance to escape during that time?

Or…

Qin Qinxi rolled over.

Or, how could she use that man to help her track down her Uncle?

All she knew was that her Uncle was in Jebel Ali, running a hardware business.

Hardware probably had something to do with building materials.

But how big was Jebel Ali? She had no idea.

This was her first time in Dubai, and she was completely unfamiliar with the local geography.

Was Jebel Ali a district? A town? Or a port?

And exactly where in Jebel Ali was her Uncle? Even less clear.

Qin Qinxi turned over again and lay flat.

If she could find her Uncle, and if he could verify her identity, she’d be saved.

End of Chapter 19: Chapter 19