I Was the Wrong Girl in His Bed, Now I Own His Empire Chapter 07

I Was the Wrong Girl in His Bed, Now I Own His Empire Chapter 07

Bryson didn’t wait for me to react after saying that. His face darkened as he pushed the door open and got

out of the car.

The door slammed shut with a heavy sound, the entire back seat seeming to shake with it.

I sat there in a daze, my heart completely in chaos.

Half an hour later, the car stopped in front of a private club near Boston Harbor.

The entire building was under heavy security. Black-suited bodyguards stood at the entrance, earpieces in place, faint outlines at their waists clearly revealing concealed firearms.

The top floor of the club was not open to the public.

Anyone allowed inside was either an heir to a Boston financial empire or a core member of East Coast underground power.

And Bryson Ventresca… was the true owner of this place.

I was led into the private room.

It was already filled with people.

Some were discussing profit splits in port logistics. Others were talking about the recent reshuffling of underground casinos in New York. A few young men in tailored suits were quietly debating next season’s

film investments:

On the surface, it looked like a high-end capital gathering.

But everyone in Boston’s upper circles knew the truth.

The people here were almost all tied to the Ventresca Family’s interests.

Bryson sat in the main seat.

The light fell across his sharply defined profile, making his dark eyes even colder.

From beginning to end, he didn’t mention what happened in the car.

He only occasionally turned slightly and casually handed me cut pieces of steak, or replaced the empty dessert plate in front of me.

Natural.

Effortless.

As if he had been taking care of me for years.

Halfway through, he stood up to take a phone call. The atmosphere in the room loosened slightly.

Aman across from me swirled his wine glass and suddenly smiled.

“Ms. Davenport is even more beautiful than the rumors. No wonder Bryson took interest.”

Another immediately chimed in.

“You don’t know. Over the years, plenty of women tried to get close to him. He threw every single one out.”

“Honestly, thanks to you, I was starting to wonder if he had some kind of psychological trauma. Like maybe

he just isn’t interested in women at all.”

My fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

“Psychological trauma?” I asked.

The man glanced toward the balcony, confirming Bryson was still on the phone, then lowered his voice.

“A long time ago. Back when Bryson was sent back to Boston by his family to study at university.”

“There was this fat girl who got attached to him somehow.”

“Later on, people said she used some kind of trick and ended up taking Bryson’s first time.”

He chuckled.

“You should’ve seen Bryson back then. The way he reacted… he looked disgusted at the mention of women. Ever since then, he never kept anyone around him.”

“People on the East Coast even started saying the new Ventresca Don might be asexual.”

A deafening sound seemed to explode in my ears.

My fingers tightened so hard the glass turned pale under my grip.

So that was it.

That was what really happened.

That ridiculous night… had left such a deep wound on him.

If I had known it would turn out like this, I would never have gone to that graduation ball.

I would have never let Jasmine Bellrose enter his life at all.

Something tore painfully in my chest.

Breathing became difficult.

I lifted my head instinctively toward the balcony.

Bryson had already finished his call at some point.

He stood by the glass door, watching me quietly.

Night light reflected in his dark eyes, making his expression unreadable and heavy.

The moment our eyes met, something inside me snapped completely.

I shot up from my seat, grabbed my bag, and left in a rush.

Behind me, faint footsteps followed.

I walked faster and faster.

Until suddenly-

Bryson’s voice, low and suppressed, exploded through the corridor.

“How long are you going to keep running?”

“Jasmine.”

My steps froze instantly.

Coldness crawled up my spine like ice.

I stood there stiffly, unable to even breathe properly.

So… he had recognized me a long time ago.

Now everything made sense.

Why he had acted so strangely after that night.

Why he kept sending me home instead of pushing further.

Why his gaze always carried something restrained and unreadable.

It wasn’t hesitation.

It was disgust.

Because that accident had made him instinctively reject me.

I slowly clenched my hands and turned around, forcing a smile.

“You recognized me? When did it start?”

Bryson stood at the end of the dim corridor.

His black shirt collar was slightly open, a half-burned cigar between his fingers.

“First time we met,” he said hoarsely.

“In the private room.”

I froze.

So early.

Then everything I had done to hide myself, all those clumsy lies…

To him, they must have looked like a joke.

My chest felt hollow, as if something had been carved out and left exposed to the cold air.

I thought of what those people had said earlier. My nose stung.

“I’m sorry, Bryson,” I said softly. “I didn’t know what happened back then… would affect you like that.”

“The room key wasn’t your fault. Someone must have put it in my bag by mistake.”

“And I was the one who took it… and went into the wrong room.”

“And I-”

My throat tightened painfully. Eyes burning red, my voice trembled.

“When I saw you passed out on the sofa… I shamelessly-”

I couldn’t finish.

Bryson’s expression darkened sharply.

In the next second, he strode toward me.

His hand closed around my wrist, and I was pulled straight into his arms.

Warm.

Firm.

Inescapable.

I froze completely.

Above me, his voice was rough and low.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His arms tightened around me, as if something long suppressed had finally broken loose.

Then I heard him say,

“That room key…”

‘…was something I personally put into your bag.”