"You—!"
Clover's face burned with humiliation.
She wanted to curse him.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to throw that ridiculous dress at his face.
But she couldn't.
Not when the image of those trembling maids was still fresh in her mind.
Dylan sat there, completely indifferent, as if none of this meant anything to him.
As if he wasn't forcing her into the most humiliating situation of her life.
Clover clenched the dress tightly in her hands, then turned and stormed back into the bathroom.
A few moments later, she stepped out.
The red nightgown clung to her body like a second skin.
It was soft, thin, and far too revealing.
Her shoulders were bare.
The slit on one side showed too much of her thigh.
The fabric hugged every curve she wished it wouldn't.
Clover stood stiffly by the door, unable to look at him.
She was tense.
Embarrassed.
And deeply afraid of what was going on in the mind of the devil sitting before her.
Dylan's eyes slowly swept over her from head to toe.
A satisfied look crossed his face.
"Good," he said.
With a snap of his fingers, the floating display vanished.
The cries downstairs disappeared with it.
Silence filled the room.
Dylan leaned back against the couch, his long legs stretching out lazily.
"You're far more obedient than I thought," he said, his lips curving slightly. "Or are you curious about what I'm about to do to you?"
Clover glared at him.
"You're a devil."
Dylan's smirk deepened.
"I know."
His gaze darkened.
"Come here."
He adjusted his posture on the couch, spreading one leg slightly as he settled deeper into the cushion.
Clover's heart began to pound.
Every instinct screamed at her not to move.
But her body betrayed her.
Slowly, she stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Her bare feet made no sound against the polished floor.
She stopped beside the couch, hands trembling slightly at her sides.
Dylan looked up at her.
Then, without warning, he grabbed her wrist.
Clover gasped.
In one swift motion, he pulled her down across his lap.
"What—?!"
She froze.
Her body went rigid.
Her breath hitched sharply as she realized her position.
"What are you doing?!" she panicked, trying to push herself up.
Dylan's arm tightened around her waist, holding her firmly in place.
"Thirty," he said calmly.
Clover blinked.
"What?"
"Thirty spanks."
His tone was flat. Casual.
As though he were discussing the weather.
"Make sure you count."
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Dylan, are you insane?! Let me go!"
She struggled immediately, kicking and twisting, but he held her down effortlessly.
One hand pinned both of her wrists behind her back.
The other slid over the thin fabric of the gown, lifting it just enough to expose the curve of her thighs.
Clover sucked in a sharp breath.
Cold air brushed against her heated skin.
Her face turned crimson.
"Dylan…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Count."
The first strike landed.
A sharp sting burst across her skin.
"Ah—!"
Clover jolted in shock, her fingers clenching instinctively.
"Count," Dylan repeated.
A second strike landed before she could recover.
"Ahh!"
"Count."
Another.
And another.
The sharp sounds echoed through the room, each one leaving Clover more breathless than the last.
"One…" she gasped finally.
Another spank.
"Two…"
Another.
"Three…"
Her voice wavered.
By the time she reached ten, her eyes were already glossy with tears.
By fifteen, she was biting down on her lower lip, trying not to cry out too loudly.
By twenty, her breathing had become uneven.
Her body trembled with every impact.
"Twenty…"
Her voice broke.
Dylan didn't stop.
He remained maddeningly calm, as if he had all the patience in the world.
Every strike was measured.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
And somehow that made it worse.
By the time she reached twenty-eight, tears had finally spilled down her cheeks.
"Twenty… eight…"
Another.
"Twenty… nine…"
The last one landed harder than the rest.
Clover jerked, a broken sound escaping her lips.
"Thirty…"
The room fell silent.
For a moment, the only sound was Clover's shaky breathing.
Dylan released her wrists.
Clover remained still for a second, stunned, before quickly pushing herself upright.
Her face was flushed.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
Her eyes shimmered with tears as she turned to glare at him.
"You're really ruthless," she said, her voice shaking with anger and humiliation.
Dylan only looked at her.
His gaze lingered.
Slow.
Heavy.
Far too aware.
Clover saw the shift in his expression too late.
The moment his hand brushed the side of her thigh and slid upward beneath the thin fabric, her whole body tensed.
"Don't touch me!"
She jerked back instantly, shoving at his chest.
Dylan let her go.
But the smirk on his face only deepened.
"Your body seems far more honest than your mouth," he said lazily.
Clover's face turned even redder.
"Shut up!"
She shoved him again and rushed into the bathroom before he could say another word.
By the time she came back out, Dylan was already lying on the bed.
One arm was behind his head.
His eyes were closed.
As if he had done nothing at all.
Clover stood there for a long moment, staring at him in disbelief.
How could he look so calm?
How could he act like she hadn't just been humiliated to death?
She clenched her fists, then walked to the far side of the bed.
As far from him as possible.
She carefully slipped beneath the blanket, keeping her body turned away from him.
Her legs were tucked tightly under the sheets.
Her face still burned.
Her heart still raced.
And no matter how much she tried to calm down, she could still feel the lingering heat of his touch… and the unbearable sting of his punishment.
That monster.
That shameless devil.
Slowly, despite her embarrassment and anger, exhaustion pulled her under.
And before long, Clover drifted into sleep.
Morning came with warm sunlight spilling through the curtains.
Clover stirred slowly.
For a few quiet seconds, everything felt peaceful.
Then she turned her head.
The other side of the bed was empty.
Again.
Her brows drew together.
Why does he always leave first? she thought.
But then—
Last night came rushing back.
The dress.
The couch.
His lap.
The punishment.
That infuriating smirk.
Clover immediately pulled the blanket over her face in pure embarrassment.
"Ahhh…" she groaned into the pillow.
How was she supposed to face him after that?
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Before she could answer, Elias stepped inside.
Clover quickly sat up.
Elias bowed politely.
"You are not permitted to leave the room," he said. "The master instructed that you remain here and study. He also said he will not return until night."
Clover's lips flattened.
Of course.
Even when he wasn't around, he was still controlling her.
She gave a stiff nod.
"Fine."
Elias turned to leave.
But just as he reached the door—
"Elias."
He paused.
Then turned back.
Clover hesitated for only a second before speaking.
"Who is Ellen to Dylan?"
Elias's expression shifted almost too quickly to notice.
But Clover caught it.
She narrowed her eyes.
"What relationship do they share?" she asked again.