Chapter 111 How Should I Punish You?
Layla nearly backed up to the door, resembling a small rabbit trapped by the big bad wolf.
"Do you... do you know me?" She fought to keep her voice steady, but it betrayed a hint of nervousness.
"I've heard a lot about you. But seeing you in person today... it's somewhat disappointing."
Disappointing?
One could only be disappointed if there were expectations. But how could there be any, when she didn't even know him?
"I don't know you," Layla said, her suspicions mounting.
"You might not know me, but I certainly know a lot about you," Jovan said with a smirk that wasn't quite a smile.
He had reveled in the tales of her charm, being someone who could twist both Samuel and Nathan around her finger. But she was just a young woman, her naiveté poorly concealed beneath her professional attire.
She was pretty enough, sure, but he was used to being surrounded by true stunners. She didn't compare.
"Who are you, exactly?" Layla's sense of danger escalated as if she’d stumbled into a den of wolves.
From the moment she took on this mission, she had felt uneasy, a sense of foreboding that her gut now confirmed—this was a trap.
"You really want to know?" Jovan's smirk gradually faded.
Layla swallowed hard, “So the whole renovation bit was just an excuse, huh? I don't care who you are or what kind of game you're playing. I'm not part of this. Let me go. Another step closer, and I'm calling the cops.”
“Call the cops? Give it a try.”
Layla’s lip quivered as she reached for her phone, but perhaps due to her shaky nerves, it slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor.
The man let out a contemptuous chuckle.
In a panic, Layla bent down to retrieve it, but as her fingers brushed against the device, she was hoisted sideways over a shoulder. The world spun, and she nearly retched from the motion.
Thrown onto the bed, Layla panicked, hoping the fall hadn’t hurt her baby. Fortunately, the soft mattress cushioned her fall without causing pain.
The real agony came from the man's weight on top of her, his strength overwhelming.
"What are you doing? Get off me!"
"Jerk!"
"Scumbag!" Layla flailed helplessly, kicking and twisting.
"Scumbag? Heh, even your insults are dull. What did that bastard even see in you?" Jovan's hand closed tightly around her throat, Layla gasping for air as her face turned a bright shade of red with the effort to breathe.
He wasn't just pretending—he was squeezing with force. Not enough to kill her, but enough to make breathing a real struggle. There was no doubt; he was a cruel man, capable of strangling her then and there on the bed.
The thought had crossed Jovan’s mind. His father, grown old and slow, always dallied, even with a subject strapped to the operating table, achieving no double death.
But Samuel—he could snuff her out with ease.
Yet, watching her struggle, with cheeks flushed red in desperation, Jovan was unexpectedly intrigued.
It reminded him of the first time he'd killed a rabbit at age eight.
He’d squeezed its neck just like this, watching it suffocate with each passing second. Its eyes transitioned from innocent panic to bloodshot desperation, finally settling on despair before they dimmed forever.
It was the first time he had felt such a rush, as if boiling in hot water.
Sadly, the thrill faded over time—with too many lives ending at his hands, he hadn't felt that excitement in ages.
But this woman had rekindled the joy and exhilaration of his first kill.
She was just like that rabbit.
The grip on Layla's throat tightened; she could see the thrill in his eyes, his veins bulging with excitement.
His strength was terrifying; she couldn't push him off. He was going to kill her.
The suffocation grew more intense, and Layla found herself completely unable to breathe.
Was this the end?
No. She didn't want to die; her baby...
Samuel, save me.
In utter despair, a single tear escaped from Layla's eye.
Just as she thought she would be throttled alive, the crushing hand around her neck suddenly released.
Layla gasped for air, her upper body jolting up as if coming back to life. Clutching her bruised neck, she broke into a violent cough. Tears streamed down her face relentlessly.
"Killing you would be too easy, wouldn't it?" Jovan's gaze fixated on her flushed face. She wasn't the most beautiful, but her skin was so soft it seemed like it would ooze water upon a gentle pinch.
At twenty, such a tender young thing must taste delightful, stirring an urge within him to pierce her through. He'd toyed with young girls before, but she was the freshest.
His hands began to tug at her blouse.
"How did you seduce that bastard, huh? You're good in bed, aren't you?"
"Should I give it a try?"
"I haven't had a pregnant woman yet; that's a novelty..."
A buzzing noise filled Layla's ears; whatever the man said, she couldn't make it out, only sensing his face twisted with a wild and ghastly ferocity, like a madman.
A ripping sound by her ear as her clothes were being pulled.
She pushed weakly against him, "No... please... don't..."
"Don't give me that 'no means yes' crap; I'm not falling for it!" Jovan dominated like a beast, roughly grabbing both her wrists.
No woman had ever resisted him like this; it was intriguing.
Seeing her dress about to be torn apart, Layla, in a moment of panic, drove her knee hard into his groin.
"Shit—" Jovan cursed loudly, clutching his lower abdomen, sweat streaming down his face in pain.
Layla kicked him away in the moment.
Jovan rolled to the floor and Layla made a dash for escape, but no sooner had she left the room than she was seized by a bodyguard.
"Let go of me—" Her struggle was fierce, like a wildcat in a frenzy.
Jovan, veins bulging on his forehead with a terrifying expression, chased after her, looking ready to tear Layla apart.
"Bitch—" He raised his hand, poised to slap her face.
Layla summoned an unknown courage and stared him down defiantly.
He froze momentarily, realizing she was nothing like the rabbit he had once strangled lifeless. Despite appearing fragile, her gaze held a stubborn resistance, daring to glare at him.
The hand intended for a slap viciously grabbed a handful of her hair instead.
Forced to look up, Layla let out a muted groan. It hurt, but she bit her lip fiercely, refusing to beg for mercy.
"You've got guts, woman!" Jovan sneered through gritted teeth, drawing in a sharp breath.
Internally seething, he pondered crushing her to dust, feeding her to the dogs—if need be. He owned a ferocious dog that would find her a tasty treat.
Yet, she sparked a different kind of interest within him. Looking at her defiant eyes, he no longer wished to end her life so suddenly. He had more entertaining ways to break her spirit.
"You're the first woman brave enough to risk making me a man without a future," Jovan whispered hotly into her ear, his breath scalding. "Tell me, how should I punish you?"
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