Chapter 7: The Hunter and the Prey

The girls surrounding me, though disappointed by my evasive answer, didn't blame me. They thanked me politely, their faces falling slightly, before the group dispersed, returning to their seats with renewed, if slightly competitive, chatter.

Anna, sensing that I didn't quite grasp their obsession with courting Lucas, offered a final explanation before leaving.

“We genuinely like Lucas, but it’s not just his title. It’s because Lucas possesses the most handsome, mesmerizing face and aura. We simply cannot find another man in this country who can compare to him.”

A slight laugh escaped me.

I now completely understood the girls’ fervor.

After all, I too, appreciate a good-looking man.

When I first walked into that bar and singled out the man I would keep as my lover, wasn't it precisely because of his striking looks and charm?

Now that I thought about it, I realized I hadn't encountered another man who could rival my former lover's appearance.

I wondered who was more impressive: Lucas, or my little kept man.

The thought of my lover, that man, sent a familiar rush of heat pooling in my body.

Just then, the butler rushed in from the doorway and whispered something to Clara. Her smile widened, becoming genuine and radiant, and she immediately announced to the hall:

“Lucas is back, and since all our guests have arrived, let the banquet begin now.”

The noisy ballroom instantly fell silent.

The sound of the smooth, leisurely symphony orchestra echoed through the hall. Everyone held their breath, their eyes darting towards every possible entrance, eager for the first glimpse of the mysterious Prince.

Perhaps influenced by the charged atmosphere, I felt a slight tension myself. It was precisely then that the phone in my handbag vibrated slightly, though it was silent—I had muted it before entering. When I pulled it out and saw the name of my former kept lover flashing on the screen, I froze.

I bit my lip, remembering that I had pulled the man out of the blacklist last night and had been so carried away by pleasure that I forgot to block him again.

What an incredible coincidence. Could he have sensed I was thinking about him?

But this was not the right time.

My finger moved to the screen, ready to dismiss the call from this distracting male temptress, when I suddenly felt a pair of sharp eyes boring into me.

I looked up sharply and met a cold, penetrating gaze from the second-floor balcony.

The man saw me looking, raised his phone, gave me a slight wave, and offered a wild, predatory grin before pressing the "end call" button. Then, he and a slightly older man who bore a resemblance to him began descending the stairs.

The man was dressed impeccably: a high-end custom suit paired with a blue-gray tie. His physique was towering, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and an arrow-straight posture. As his long legs strode down the steps, his trousers tightly defined the perfect lines of his taut leg muscles.

Even if I hadn't clearly seen his face, I would have admired him internally.

But I had seen him. My body completely stiffened, as if I had been physically bound to my chair. The air in the grand hall seemed to solidify.

That face—the features were impossibly perfect. His nose, jawline, and eyebrows—every line seemed to have been favored by the Moon Goddess, exuding a wild elegance. It was the face of the lover whose lips I had kissed countless times, whose body I knew intimately, and whom I had ruthlessly dumped just two days ago.

The banquet hall erupted into a frenzy at the arrival of Prince Lucas and Wolf King Gabriel. The Royal Family appeared close-knit; Clara's two most important men approached, kissing and embracing her with evident warmth. Naturally, they also presented their final, show-stopping gifts. The young women in the hall erupted in gasps and excited squeals with Lucas's every gesture and word.

After receiving the climactic gifts from her husband and son, Clara raised her wine glass and offered a toast to the banquet. Everyone present followed suit, raising their glasses, and together, we all drained the wine.

I mirrored the actions of the crowd, drinking the wine in my glass.

But the red wine, which moments ago I could have distinguished by vintage and complex notes, now slid down my throat, icy and tasteless.

I hadn't missed it: standing by Clara, Lucas had intentionally raised his glass in my direction, a malicious smile playing on his lips, and a subtle, rhythmic tapping of his left index finger on the glass.

It was the exact gesture and expression my little lover always displayed when he was truly angry with me.

Perhaps there are two people in the world who look identical, but there cannot be two people with the exact same micro-expressions and habitual gestures.

My heart felt squeezed, making it hard to breathe.

How could this be?

Why did this happen?

The handsome boy I casually picked up in a bar was the Wolf King’s son, the Prince of this country.

Lucas was the lover I had kept for a year.

My mind refused to settle.

I suddenly recalled the night I first met Lucas. It was the very night Damian fled the wedding with Isabelle. Driven by a stubborn need for revenge, I went to a bar.

I drank heavily that night, dancing recklessly until I spotted Lucas.

I certainly wasn't the first woman in the bar to notice him, but I was definitely the boldest. I pushed past the alluring girls surrounding him, grabbed his collar, kissed him hard, and asked if he wanted to leave with me right then. Lucas nodded, and the pleasure of that night goes without saying.

My motivation was simple: why should Damian be the only one enjoying himself? I wanted to enjoy myself too, and with a man who looked superior to Damian in every way.

So, that night, just after I reached my first physical climax, while Lucas was still hard, I immediately wrote him a check for one million.

“I’m very satisfied with you. Are you satisfied with me? If so, take this check—I’m keeping you from now on.”

Every encounter thereafter, Lucas's performance lived up to the price on that check.

We spent every meeting in bed, and every night was thoroughly satisfying.

Aside from the initial million-dollar check, I would also bring Lucas an expensive gift every time we met—luxury handbags, diamond rings, necklaces, clothing, and shoes.

I never questioned what the man did with the gifts, whether he sold them, gave them away, or threw them out. Just as I never inquired about his background or family, he too was compliant, maintaining a tacit understanding: he never asked about my past.

I believed our relationship was purely transactional, solely for pleasure, and utterly temporary.

Until Damian returned, forcing me to focus entirely on seizing power of the pack.

That was why I had chosen to end this perfectly joyful, completely emotionless physical relationship.

I thought my lover and I would safely return to our separate tracks, never to cross paths again.

Now, I suddenly realized that the seemingly weak prey in my eyes was, in fact, the true predator.

And I, it seemed, had been his target all along.