Billionaire's Exclusive Pet

On a stifling summer night, the sky suddenly erupted into a downpour, accompanied by rolling thunder and flashes of lightning that seemed to tear the heavens apart.

Xanthe Jenkins was jolted awake by the crashing thunder. She sat up and realized her window was still open. Rain, driven by fierce winds, was pouring inside, leaving a large puddle on the floor.

Getting out of bed, Xanthe moved toward the window to close it. Just as she reached out, a bolt of lightning lit up the yard outside, revealing several dark figures in motion, seemingly engaged in a violent struggle. Occasional whizzing sounds sliced through the air.

Terrified, Xanthe, who had lived nearly twenty years without witnessing such chaos, hurried to close the window.

But as she was about to shut it, a bloody hand seized her wrist. With a swift yank, a man vaulted through the opening and landed inside her room.

Before Xanthe could scream, the man's large hand clamped over her mouth.

"Not a sound, or I'll kill you right here," he growled, his voice as cold and menacing as death itself.

His breath brushed over her face, sending an icy shiver from her toes to the top of her head.

Xanthe froze, too frightened to resist, and nodded obediently.

Satisfied, the man slowly reached out and closed the window.

Once it was shut, he leaned his full weight against her.

Panicking, Xanthe tried to push him away, but her hand brushed against something warm and sticky on his arm. It was blood. The metallic scent of it thickened the air, filling the entire room.

"Don't worry. I just need a place to hide. I'll be gone soon," the man whispered just as gunfire erupted outside.

Raised in a small village, Xanthe had never seen or heard anything like this. Her instincts screamed, and a soft cry began to escape her lips.

The moment he heard her make a sound, he silenced her by pressing his mouth against hers.

His cool lips met hers, tasting faintly of jasmine, soft and yielding like a delicate jelly.

The shock of this sudden, invasive contact short-circuited her mind, and without thinking, she swung her arm instinctively.

The slap rang out, loud and clear.

Xanthe had put all her strength into it, her hand stinging from the impact. At the same time, she heard something fall to the floor, though she barely registered it.

In the next instant, the man grabbed her wrist just as another flash of lightning illuminated his face.

He had a broad forehead, sharply arched brows, and deep eyes that seemed like whirlpools, capable of pulling anyone into their depths. His high, chiseled nose and perfectly sculpted jawline made him look like a figure straight out of mythology.

He had such a flawless face, but with an expression so cold and lethal, which was as though he had emerged from the deepest, darkest corner of hell.

A die-hard lover of beautiful faces, Xanthe swore she could gaze at him for days without even needing food. She, captivated by his looks, couldn't help but stare.

The man was momentarily stunned, surprised that she had managed to knock his mask off. For a fleeting second, he looked dazed as he locked eyes with her. But he quickly recovered, gripping her wrist tightly.

"Well, since you've seen my face, staying here is no longer an option." His voice, frigid and ruthless, sent a fresh wave of chills down Xanthe's spine.

His grip tightened around her wrist until it felt like he might crush her bones. He exuded an even more intense coldness, like a demon from the depths of hell, ready to drag her into his abyss.

Just then, another man's voice came from outside the door.

"Mr. Harrison, the area's secure. It's time to go." The man's voice wavered slightly when he noticed. "Mr. Harrison... where's your mask?"

Injured, Zachary Harrison glanced down at the mask on the floor, his expression impassive.

Without hesitation, he grabbed Xanthe's wrist and dragged her out of the room and into the courtyard.

The rain was still pouring, sending splashes of water across the muddy ground, where puddles had formed everywhere.

The smell of blood hung thickly in the air, so intense it was almost nauseating. Several men dressed in black were shining flashlights as they cleared away the bodies of fallen enemies, the bloodstains gradually washed away by the relentless rain.

A few minutes later, the yard was silent again as if nothing had happened.

The man who had spoken earlier approached, eyeing Zachary's injured arm as he continued gripping Xanthe's wrist.

"Mr. Harrison, you're hurt. Let's go," he said Zachary nodded, then turned to the man, his piercing gaze unwavering. "Bring her along."

"Yes, sir," the man nodded.

Xanthe opened her mouth to protest, but before she could utter a word, the man struck her neck with a swift chop. Her world faded into darkness.

When Xanthe regained consciousness, she was on a plane.

She glanced down and realized she'd been tightly bound, with seven or eight men seated around her.

"Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?" Xanthe demanded, her voice trembling slightly.

Fear churned inside her, her palms damp with sweat, but she couldn't afford to show weakness.

Zachary turned to her, narrowing his eyes. "Awake already?"

His voice was rich and magnetic, yet his gaze was icy, sharp enough to make her shiver.

Xanthe stayed silent, aware that saying too much could backfire. She simply stared at Zachary, waiting for an answer, determined to remain unflinching.

Ironically, her first time on a plane, which should have been an exhilarating experience, was now a nightmare unfolding in the worst possible way.

Just then, another man seated to her right approached.

Xanthe thought he looked oddly familiar, like she'd seen him somewhere before, though she couldn't quite place him. Deciding not to dwell on it, she turned her attention back to Zachary.

The man reached out to pat Zachary, but as his hand neared, he caught Zachary's razor-sharp glare and quickly withdrew.

"Mr. Harrison, now that we're on the plane, there's no need to keep her tied up. She's not going anywhere," he said.

Zachary's eyes darkened, and the man promptly fell silent.

After a pause, perhaps convinced by the practicality of the suggestion, Zachary loosened the ropes binding Xanthe's wrists.

He inspected her wrist closely, then glanced over at a man seated at the front. "Landon, come here."

The man, Landon Holden, stood up at the call. "Boss, what is it?"

Xanthe sized him up. He was over six feet tall, handsome, with refined features and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, giving him an intellectual look.

Zachary noticed her staring at Landon and, feeling oddly irritated, stood directly in front of her, blocking her view. He lifted her wrist and showed it to Landon.

When Landon tried to check it, Zachary slapped his hand away.

"I asked you to examine her, not touch her." Zachary barked.

One of the other men, the same one who had questioned the ropes, couldn't help but interject.

"Zachary, do you think Landon's a magician? How's he supposed to check her condition with just a glance?" he said.

Zachary shot him a lethal glare, then finally released Xanthe's wrist, allowing Landon to proceed. But he continued to stand protectively in front of her, refusing to move aside.

After a careful assessment, Landon retrieved a medical kit and brought it over.

Zachary, seeing what Landon intended, cut him off.

"You give the directions. I'll handle it," said Zachary.

Landon set the kit down, stepping aside and directing Zachary on how to apply the medication.

It was a rare experience for Landon, to command Zachary, and he rather enjoyed it.

Zachary meticulously applied the ointment to Xanthe's wrist, only letting go once he was done.

Xanthe rolled her eyes but held her tongue, realizing that asking questions was pointless. These men were ruthless criminals, and there was no way they'd let her go.

She was practical. She understood the situation well. Her only concern now was for her grandmother's safety.

Thankfully, the plane soon began its descent.

Instinctively, Xanthe reached for her pocket, only to remember she'd been kidnapped last night and had no phone.

After observing her captors on the plane, she had a sense of things. The man named Zachary Harrison was clearly the leader.

At that moment, Zachary gripped her wrist and began leading her briskly down the airstair.

Xanthe stopped abruptly. Zachary turned to her, his eyes cold.

"What? Want me to carry you down?" he said.

She quickly shook her head. "You took me by force. My grandmother must be worried sick. Can I borrow your phone to call her?"

Zachary glanced at her, said nothing, and continued down the stairs, pulling her along until they reached a waiting Bentley.

She stumbled, nearly falling as she tried to keep up. In the end, he shoved her into the car.

The car started up, rolling forward into an unknown future.

Xanthe had no idea where they were headed or what lay in store for her. Anxiety gnawed at her, but she knew better than to reveal any vulnerability in front of these dangerous men.

Deep in thought, Xanthe was startled when a phone appeared before her.

She looked up, surprised, as Zachary spoke in his usual cold tone. "Didn't you want to make a call? Or did you change your mind?"

Snapping out of her thoughts, she took the phone, but when she tried to unlock it, she realized it needed a password. She held it up for him to see.

With his eyes closed, Zachary replied casually, "The password is 1127."

Xanthe quickly entered the code, surprised when it unlocked. For a brief moment, she paused, wondering if the combination was purely coincidental. 'Could it really be?' she mused.

Pushing the thought aside, she entered her grandmother's number, informing her that she had returned to school early and would be busy with work, unable to visit soon.

Her grandmother seemed unconcerned, merely reminding Xanthe to focus on her work but also take care of her health.

The warm, familiar tone nearly brought Xanthe to tears.

She ended the call quickly, fearing her grandmother might detect something in her voice.

Handing the phone back to Zachary, she turned her gaze to the window, choosing to say nothing.

After about half an hour, they arrived in front of a villa, where the butler opened the car door.

"Mr. Harrison..." Joseph, the butler, began, then hesitated when he saw the unfamiliar woman in the car.

"Take her to a room to rest," Zachary ordered coolly.

Joseph nodded, leading Xanthe out of the car and into the villa.

Zachary instructed his assistant, Connor Zuber, to drive the car to his office. He had a mountain of work waiting.

Inside the villa, Xanthe followed Joseph to a room. She knew she'd just stepped into a luxurious prison, uncertain when, if ever, she'd taste freedom again. Yet she felt compelled to at least try and speak to Zachary, hoping for some kind of understanding.

With a plan in mind, Xanthe felt a slight sense of relief. She took a shower and went to bed early.

Around noon, as she was getting ready for lunch, Joseph knocked on her door. "Miss, please come downstairs for lunch."

After tidying herself up, Xanthe went downstairs and followed Joseph into the dining room.

She glanced at the table, which was covered with a lavish spread, but she had no appetite.

Joseph stood to the side, ready to serve at any moment.

Picking up her fork, Xanthe forced herself to take a few bites before finally giving up.

She looked over at Joseph. "Excuse me... Well... is Zachary not joining us for lunch?"

Joseph was momentarily taken aback before answering. "Miss, Mr. Harrison doesn't return for lunch."

Xanthe nodded, setting her fork down.

Seeing this, Joseph quickly stepped forward. "Miss, is the food not to your liking?"

Xanthe shook her head. "No, it's not that... I'm just not very hungry."

She paused, then added, "I'd like to take a walk nearby."

Joseph wasn't sure how to respond, so he said, "Sorry but allow me to call Mr. Harrison to confirm."

With that, he took out his phone and dialed Zachary.

After a moment, he looked at Xanthe. "Miss, you may walk around nearby, but for your safety, I'll assign two bodyguards to accompany you."

Xanthe thought to herself, 'For my safety? Right. You're just afraid I'll try to escape and need people to watch me.'

Without protest, she nodded, rose from her seat, and headed outside.

No sooner had Zachary walked a few steps than two tall, broad-shouldered bodyguards began following her at a discreet distance.

She gave a small, sarcastic smile but said nothing, continuing her walk.

Zachary returned to the villa at precisely 6:00 p.m.

He entered the living room and, seeing no sign of Xanthe, glanced at Joseph.

Joseph immediately understood. "Miss is resting upstairs in her bedroom."

Zachary nodded and went upstairs.

In her room, Xanthe was seated at her vanity, sketching something on a piece of paper.

When she heard a knock, she quickly tore up the paper, tossed the pieces into the toilet, and went to answer the door.

The moment she opened it, Zachary stepped in, shutting the door behind him.

Xanthe knew resistance was pointless. Facing a man as dangerous as Zachary, she realized she couldn't win through force, so she turned and walked over to the sofa.

Zachary followed her, sitting beside her. He reached out to put an arm around her, but she blocked him with her hand.

After a moment of silence, she looked up at him. "Mr. Harrison, is it?"

Zachary gave a slight nod, confirming.

"I have a few questions," Xanthe said.

"Go ahead," Zachary replied.

"Did you know me before this?" Xanthe asked.

Zachary shook his head.

"If you didn't know me, then why did you bring me here by force?" Xanthe pressed.

"You suit my taste," Zachary replied.

Xanthe almost felt faint at the absurdity of his answer. 'That's one hell of a flimsy excuse,' she wondered.

"Do you even know who I am? What do I do? Whether I'm married or not? You don't know any of that, do you?" she demanded.

"Does any of that matter? The only thing that matters here is what I want. Everything else is irrelevant," Zachary said, leaning back lazily on the sofa, clearly amused by her reaction.

Hearing this, Xanthe's patience was stretched to its limit.

"Mr. Harrison, what you're doing is illegal. This is kidnapping, and you could go to prison," she said, her tone more serious than ever.

Unfazed, Zachary smirked. "There's a phone in the villa. You're welcome to call the police."

Xanthe decided to take him up on it. She picked up the landline phone in the living room and dialed 911, but the line was busy. She tried again and again, only to be met with the same result each time.

Frustrated, she turned to Joseph, asking for his cell phone. Joseph hesitated but eventually handed it over to her.

Just as Xanthe was about to dial, she noticed Zachary watching her, his expression one of amused anticipation. Her resolve faltered.

Clearly, if he was letting her call, it was because he had nothing to fear. Realizing the futility of it, she handed Joseph's phone back.

"Fine... then let me ask you this," Xanthe began, forcing calm into her voice. "When do you intend to let me leave, Mr. Harrison?"

Zachary glanced at her, his tone cold. "When I'm done with you."

Xanthe's heart sank, her hopes crashing. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to keep her emotions under control.

She fought down the surge of anger with every ounce of her will.

"So, Mr. Harrison... what you want is my body, then?" Every word was a struggle, her voice tight with tension.

"Yes. Whatever I set my sights on, I always get," Zachary replied smoothly, his eyes glinting with a possessiveness that sent a chill through her.

Xanthe's eyes turned icy as she met his gaze. Taking a deep breath, she spoke firmly. "Mr. Harrison, I'm married. I even have a five-year-old child."

Zachary laughed, his hand reaching up to clasp her chin, tilting her face toward him as he scrutinized her.

"Do you take me for a fool?" he asked, his thumb brushing across her jaw. Then, with a chilling indifference, he added, "Doesn't matter. I don't care."

"Well, I care," Xanthe said, her voice resolute. "I need to remain faithful to my husband."

"Husband?" Zachary sneered. Rising abruptly, he turned as if to walk toward his study.

Xanthe grabbed his sleeve, desperation seeping into her voice. "Mr. Harrison, please... just let me go. I really can't stay here."

Zachary shook her hand off and glared at her coldly. "Do you know why I brought you here?"

Xanthe shook her head, genuinely bewildered.

"Because you saw my face," Zachary said.

Xanthe couldn't help but scoff. "So what? Countless people have seen your face. Are you planning to imprison them all?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head calmly. "They're no longer in this world."

At his braggart, Xanthe let out a disbelieving laugh. "So, what, your villa is served by ghosts?"

"No," Zachary continued, "everyone here is loyal to me."

"Then just kill me, too," Xanthe said, her voice flat as if commenting on the weather.

Zachary didn't bother with more words. He grabbed her chin, leaned down, and kissed her. Her lips, with that familiar hint of jasmine, were as soft and supple as ever, like a petal yielding beneath his touch.

He took his time, savoring her mouth with a calculated gentleness.

Caught off guard, Xanthe's instinct was to fight back. She bit down hard, summoning every bit of strength she had. Soon, the taste of blood filled her mouth, and a scarlet stain bloomed at the corner of her lips, a vivid, almost beautiful defiance.

Zachary jerked back, wiping at the wound she'd inflicted, his eyes dark with fury.

"You dare bite me? Who gave you the nerve?" he growled. He seized her wrists, pinning them high above her head, and swiftly maneuvered to press her down against the sofa.

Xanthe struggled with everything she had, but Zachary's strength was overwhelming.

One hand held her wrists firmly, while his other hand tore frantically at her clothes, the red in his eyes almost blazing as veins pulsed on his forehead. Seeing the look of raw anger and possession on his face terrified her.

In moments, her clothes were gone, reduced to tatters. He bent down, pressing his mouth to her neck, moving with a predatory hunger, like a leopard devouring its prey.

The chill of the room hit her bare skin, snapping her back to reality. Rage flooded her, dark and consuming, threatening to drown her. She forced herself to remain calm.

Xanthe realized that struggling was pointless. Zachary was like a beast. The more she resisted, the more he seemed intent on breaking her. She knew her best option was to maintain her composure and think.

"Mr. Harrison, is this truly what you want?" Her voice was eerily calm, smooth as a lake under moonlight.

"If forcing a defenseless woman is your preference, then fine. I'll accept my fate." Her tone remained icily detached as if resigned.

To Zachary, her words hit like a splash of ice water, dousing the desire in his gaze. The red faded from his eyes as he slowly regained his senses. He lay over her for a moment, steadying his breathing, before rising.

"I'll wait until you're willing," he said coolly before slamming the door behind him as he left.

Only after he was gone did Xanthe feel the tension release from her chest, like she was finally able to breathe again. For a moment there, she'd thought she might actually die.

Sitting up slowly, she held a hand to her chest, steadying her heart, then made her way to the closet. She found a T-shirt of Zachary's and slipped it on.

That night, she didn't go downstairs for dinner. She had nothing to wear, and even if she did, she had no desire to face Zachary. She spent hours sitting alone in her room.

As the hours dragged on, Xanthe's thoughts raced. She knew that as long as she was trapped in this gilded prison, her future was bleak. No matter what, she had to escape. Otherwise, something like this would inevitably happen again. She needed to come up with a plan to escape, and fast.

The incident tonight had taught Xanthe something crucial. Zachary responded better to softness than to resistance. As long as she could find a way to please him and lower his guard, she would be able to escape. Once she got out of this villa and into a more populated area, she would find a way to get away. With this thought in mind, she made up her mind to go ahead with her plan.