I Was the Wrong Girl in His Bed, Now I Own His Empire Chapter 02

I Was the Wrong Girl in His Bed, Now I Own His Empire Chapter 02

The moment those words left his mouth, the people who’d been mocking me seconds ago instantly fell silent.

I froze for a second and turned around instinctively.

Bryson still stood beneath the dim lights, the sleeves of his black shirt casually rolled up. A half-burning cigar rested between his fingers.

Six years had completely worn away the sharp arrogance he used to carry as a teenager. He barely showed any emotion now, yet people still couldn’t bring themselves to meet his eyes directly.

“I’ve heard of that movie,” Bryson said slowly. “The concept’s pretty good. But a few scenes crossed the line, so it failed the second review.”

My eyes lit up instantly.

“Yes, exactly that movie.”

I stepped forward without thinking.

“The company already agreed to cut the sensitive scenes, and we’re willing to resubmit it, but the higher-ups still won’t give us a clear response.”

My voice softened unconsciously near the end.

Because I knew very well that the person who actually decided whether my movie lived or died…was standing right in front of me.

Over the years, the Ventresca family hadn’t just monopolized Boston’s underground casinos, ports, and illegal financial networks.

In recent years, they’d started expanding aggressively into film and media.

And after Bryson took over Ventresca Films, he practically gained control over the entertainment industry’s most important review channels.

Whether a movie could air or not was often just one sentence from him.

My fingertips had already gone cold from nerves.

But Bryson simply looked at me calmly.

The next second, he stood up from the sofa.

At six-foot-three, the pressure he carried was overwhelming the moment he straightened to full height.

As his shadow fell over me, I caught the familiar scent on him again.

Exactly the same as six years ago.

“You came to the wrong person.” Bryson lowered his eyes to look at me, his tone flat. “This isn’t under my control.”

Then he turned and walked toward the door.

Panic clenched hard around my chest.

Before I could stop myself, I reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Bryson…”

The second the name left my mouth, I realized I’d lost control.

The entire room went dead silent.

Several people even sucked in sharp breaths.

After all, everyone in Boston’s underground world knew one thing:

The new Don of the Ventresca family hated being touched.

Especially by women.

And I had just grabbed his arm directly.

Bryson stopped walking.

Slowly, he lowered his gaze toward the hand clutching his sleeve.

His eyes were terrifyingly dark.

My breathing stalled.

Only then did I realize my palm was already covered in cold sweat. I released him immediately, but still forced myself to look up at him.

“People say Don Ventresca can reach the heavens with his connections.”

I tried to keep my voice steady.

“Could you… help me just this once?”

“I know there’s nothing you lack. But if you’re willing to help me, then whatever you wants in the future… I’ll do my best to give it to you.”

The moment I finished speaking, someone in the room let out a low whistle.

Clearly, they all assumed I was offering myself as part of the deal.

But Bryson merely stared at me quietly.

A few seconds later, one brow lifted slightly.

“What I want?”

Those pitch-black eyes lingered meaningfully on my face. Then he gave a low chuckle.

“Ms. Davenport, I’m afraid the things I want… aren’t something you can afford to give.”

There was faint mockery hidden in his tone.

Or maybe it was a reminder.

The man standing in front of me was no longer the hockey captain from college.

He was the true Godfather of the Ventresca family now.

One of the most untouchable men on the entire East Coast.

The moment he finished speaking, Bryson pushed open the door and left.

As the private room door shut again, the breath I’d been forcing myself to hold finally collapsed out of my chest.

By the time I returned to the underground parking garage, my manager Vera was already pacing anxiously in circles.

The second she saw me, she hurried over in her heels.

“How’d it go? Did you meet Bryson Ventresca? What did he say?”

I silently shook my head.

Vera sighed.

“Forget it. Honestly, this was expected.”

“You have no idea how many award-winning actresses and internet celebrities are trying to get close to Bryson these days.”

“Last time, an actress who’d just won an international award personally toasted him at a dinner party. Bryson didn’t even touch the glass.”

“The whole industry says the guy doesn’t have a single weakness.”

She kept talking while pushing me toward the nanny van.

“But seriously, I still can’t believe you and Bryson were schoolmates.”

“You really didn’t know him back in high school? With that face? He would’ve been campus royalty anywhere.”

My movement paused slightly as I bent down to get into the van.

Then I calmly sat inside.

“Never met him,” I lied with a perfectly straight face. “Maybe he got plastic surgery later. Isn’t that pretty common these days?”

The moment I finished speaking, Vera suddenly started coughing like crazy while frantically signaling at me with her eyes.

I blinked in confusion and turned around following her gaze.

That was when I realized a dark blue Rolls-Royce had silently parked behind the van at some point.

The license plate was entirely black.

A symbol exclusive to the Ventresca family.

The rear window slowly lowered.

Bryson sat within the dim shadows, a cigar resting between his fingers. His expression was unreadable, but the pressure radiating from him crashed through the air anyway.

The next second, his assistant walked over.

Black gloves wrapped around his long fingers, every movement respectful and precise.

“Ms. Davenport.”

He handed me a gold-trimmed private club invitation card.

“Don Ventresca would like to invite you to dinner tomorrow evening.”

At that point, the assistant paused briefly before adding expressionlessly,

“And Don Ventresca also asked me to pass along a message.”

“Tomorrow night, you can confirm for yourself…”

“Whether he’s had plastic surgery or not.”