The echoes of Joanne’s sudden outburst hung in the dead silence of the massive banquet hall like a ticking time bomb.
The hardened captains, frontline soldiers, and beautiful servants of the EGUF sat frozen in shock, their jaws nearly dropping to the table.
No one—absolutely no one—had ever dared to stand up and scream at the entire family, let alone in front of the lethal Boss himself.
Before Joanne could even take another angry breath, Alfonso’s arm shot out like a striking viper.
His fingers wrapped around her wrist, and with one effortless jerk, he yanked her backward.
Joanne let out a breathless gasp as her feet left the floor, her body flying through the air before crashing heavily onto the rigid surface of Alfonso’s lap.
“Ah…!” she whimpered, her hands instinctively slamming against his broad shoulders to stabilize herself.
Instantly, Joanne began to struggle frantically, her thighs twisting and shifting against his trousers as she desperately tried to push herself away and stand back up.
But Alfonso’s other arm came around her narrow waist, pinning her soft hips against his lap, completely crushing her resistance until she was utterly trapped, her nightgown riding up even further to expose the smooth curve of her bottom against his thighs.
“Sit down,” Alfonso commanded, his voice dropping into a rasp that vibrated through her chest.
He let out an amused chuckle, his eyes sweeping across the silent table as his hands dug into the flesh of her waist, anchoring her.
“It seems my sweet little nurse is already tired of sitting in her own chair,” he announced to the crowd, his voice dripping with an arrogant, mockery-filled dominance.
“She clearly prefers the comfort of my lap instead.”
The captains let out a few tense, low chuckles, the suffocating atmosphere easing just a fraction under their leader’s control.
Alfonso leaned his jawline down, his hot breath fanning across Joanne’s burning cheek as his fingers tightened around her waist.
“Listen to me very carefully, sweet doctor,” Alfonso whispered darkly, his eyes burning with a terrifying intensity.
“This sweet nurse honestly thinks that The Dickpussy Palace cares about anyone’s pathetic feelings. Isn’t that something new to all of us?”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping into a growl that left zero room for negotiation. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“Let me educate you right now, Joanne. In this place, caring about each other’s feelings is the absolute last thing we do. It is a useless, fatal weakness. And it is the last thing you should do if you want to survive under my roof. Are you listening to me?”
Joanne’s throat went dry, a cold sweat breaking out across her collarbone.
Looking into the dilated, merciless depths of his pupils, she knew she was on the precipice of triggering his rage.
She swallowed hard, her upper lip trembling as she forced a polite, submissive nod.
“Y… yes, sir,” she whispered softly.
“Good,” Alfonso murmured, a slow, sinister smile returning to his handsome face.
He turned his gaze down the long table, looking at Dorea, who was still sitting rigidly with her arms crossed over her stained apron.
“You see? Dorea isn’t even mad at me. Why would she act that way? She is used to how I operate. Besides, everyone in the EGUF knows I don’t believe in sugarcoating a single damn thing. If I see someone who is visually unappealing, I tell them the truth to their face. That is my nature, and it will never change.”
He abruptly reached up, his fingers locking under Joanne’s chin, forcing her head to turn until she was looking into his piercing eyes.
His other hand slowly, deliberately traced the contour of her shoulder, sliding down the silk covering her breast.
“For example… look at you,” Alfonso murmured smoothly, his thumb brushing over her flushed skin.
“When I told you last night that you are breathtakingly beautiful, I meant every single word of it. I never lie, Joanne. I don’t use filters for anyone.”
Dorea let out a dry laugh from across the table, shaking her head as she picked up a surgical scalpel from her tray, twirling it idly between her fingers.
She looked at Joanne’s terrified, shivering form with a strange, hardened expression that was devoid of anger.
“Don’t scare the little nurse so much, Alfonso,” Dorea spoke up, her voice surprisingly calm and practical.
She flicked her eyes directly to Joanne.
“Look at me, doctor. I am not angry with him, and I am already used to his mouth. You’re just lucky you’ve got the looks, girl. In this palace, being ugly is an absolute crime—and I’ve lived with that reality for years. His words can’t hurt me anymore.”
Joanne sat frozen on Alfonso’s lap, her mind stupefied, unable to find a single word to respond to such a twisted, cold reality.
Alfonso abruptly shifted his weight, lifting Joanne by her waist and effortlessly placing her back down into her seat beside him.
He stood up to his towering height, smoothing down the front of his suit jacket, his expression instantly transforming into that of a cold, ruthless businessman. Find the original chapter at novelping . com.
“I’ve got no time left for babysitting today,” Alfonso declared flatly, checking the gold watch on his wrist.
He flicked his gaze over to Sophie.
“Sophie, wait for the sweet nurse’s body to heal first before you begin her physical training. I want her at one hundred percent before you break her in.”
“Understood, Boss,” Sophie replied with a respectful nod.
Alfonso turned on his heel, his leather shoes thudding against the marble as he began to stride toward the massive double doors of the banquet hall.
“Griffin!” he barked loudly over his shoulder.
“Get the vehicle prepped immediately. Drive me to the company. We have legal cover operations to secure before the sun goes down.”
“Right behind you, Boss,” Griffin answered, quickly draining his glass of whiskey and standing up to follow the mafia bods out of the room.
The moment the doors slammed shut behind Alfonso and Griffin, an exhausting silence fell over the remaining captains and soldiers, who slowly began to disperse to handle their duties.
Joanne didn’t hesitate.
Ignoring the lingering, jealous glares from the remaining female servants, she pushed her chair back, her legs moving quickly as she hurried down the length of the long table.
She stopped right next to Dorea’s chair, her hands clutching her nightgown tightly over her chest, her eyes wide, soft, and swimming with a profound sense of guilt.
“Dorea… I am so, so sorry,” Joanne whispered hurriedly, her voice laced with an intense, polite desperation.
“I shouldn’t have caused a scene, but I… I just couldn’t sit there and listen to him say such horrible, degrading things to you. It wasn’t right.”
Dorea stopped twirling her scalpel.
She slowly turned her head, her eyes taking in Joanne’s innocent, beautifully flushed face, her youthful, voluptuous body, and the genuine empathy shining in her gaze.
A smile touched Dorea’s lips as she let out a low, grim sigh.
“With your kind of soft, fragile heart in this brutal palace, girl,” Dorea whispered out loud, her final words hanging in the cold air, “you are going to be crying yourself to sleep every single day.”