He slid both hands down, grasping her thighs and gently parting them.

With a sharp “tear,” the white sheer fabric split right down the middle.

Qin Qinxi was startled and just as she tried to move, he instantly tightened his single arm around her waist, pinning her in place.

Then came a gentle lift.

Her whole body was raised slightly, her back pressed even more tightly against his chest.

Vio took one hand and cupped her cheeks, forcing her head to turn so he could kiss her lips.

He pried open her teeth and swept his tongue inside, invading her without giving her any chance to resist.

Qin Qinxi let out a muffled sound from deep in her throat, feeling her waist squeezed even tighter.

She furrowed her brow tightly, only able to clutch his taut forearm with her hands.

Vio released her face.

At last, Qin Qinxi could catch her breath, gulping air in big lungfuls, tears streaming down her face as she bit hard on her lower lip.

Vio still gazed at her with heavy eyes, his breathing rapid, his chest rising and falling against her back.

He freed one hand to undo the belt of his bathrobe.

But he didn’t take it off—just left it wide open, letting her back press fully against his chest.

“Call my name,” he rasped, lightly pinching her neck, his thumb pressing beneath her jawline.

Through her sobs, Qin Qinxi whispered, “Mancello… sir…”

“That’s my surname, not my name,” he said, unusually patient as he explained.

Qin Qinxi sniffled, her voice trembling: “Vio.”

Vio chuckled softly.

He pressed her face toward him again, kissing and licking her lips.

The hand around her waist remained firm but restless, exploring every nook and cranny it could reach.

Meanwhile, his other hand slid up her thigh and gripped it.

Qin Qinxi shrank into herself, toes curled tight.

She tightened her grip on his arm, her throat emitting broken, halting sounds that he swallowed with his lips.

DIP Private Club. Eight o’clock in the evening.

The private dining cabin was dimly lit, with two people seated at opposite ends of the long table.

San Shao occasionally glanced down at his wristwatch, tapping his fingertips lightly on the tabletop—pausing after a few taps before withdrawing his hand beneath the table.

Across from him sat Dmitri, impeccably dressed in a crisp suit, his light-brown hair neatly combed, a polite smile on his face.

This private club was his turf.

From the security guards at the entrance to the waitstaff in the corridor, from the bartenders at the bar to the servers in the private dining cabin—all were his men.

Today he had deliberately cleared the place; every guest sitting in the main hall, drinking and chatting, carried a gun tucked into their waistband.

Three floors, thirty-seven people, with guards posted at every entrance and exit.

San Shao glanced at his watch once more. It was ten minutes past eight.

Dmitri lifted his wine glass and took a sip, offering San Shao a dignified smile: “No rush, Third Master. He might be here any minute now.”

The reason Dmitri teamed up with San Shao was that he had uncovered Vio’s true identity.

An illegitimate son of the Mancello Family, cast out by his clan seven years ago, who had since made a name for himself in the Middle East.

He’d pulled some strings to get this information into San Shao’s hands.

Originally, he’d assumed that everyone in the Mancello Family was deeply calculating and shrewd.

Even before meeting this Third Master, he’d rehearsed all sorts of perfectly polished lines—testing the waters, weaving his way in, slowly drawing out information.

But in the end, it took hardly any effort at all: San Shao handed over everything without hesitation.

He and Vio had a score to settle, and he wanted Vio dead even more than Dmitri did.

As for what exactly that score was, San Shao refused to say. And Dmitri didn’t care.

What he hadn’t expected was that there could actually be such an incompetent member in the Mancello Family—so arrogant and condescending, yet utterly empty-headed.

End of Chapter 46: Chapter 46