The life of Dylan

Quincy stormed into the room, his eyes burning with a storm of emotion. Without a word, he grabbed Harper and tossed her onto the bed. She gasped, startled, and immediately pushed him back with all her might, scrambling to escape. But before she could reach the door, he caught her again, lifting her effortlessly and throwing her back onto the mattress.

"Sit the fuck down!" he barked, towering over her, his chest heaving.

"Quincy, what is wrong with you?" Harper's voice trembled, part fury, part fear, as she stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"What is wrong with me? You don't know?" His voice cracked, as if holding back the tremble of betrayal.

"I told you I wasn't planning to harm you at the field, why do you listen to Ross?" Her brows furrowed in confusion, frustration twisting her features.

"Is that what I asked you?" He stepped closer, jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides.

"What do you want?"

His eyes darkened. "Tell me, Harper, you love me or not?" he asked, his voice quieter now, aching. She looked away, her lips parting but no sound coming out.

I never had the time to think of my feelings for Quincy… how would I know whether I love him or not? I can't just say I love him when I don't even mean it, right? she thought, her throat tightening.

"You can't answer me, so Ross was right. You were using me."

"I'm not!" she snapped, eyes widening.

"Then what?" He pointed a finger accusingly. "You have never told me you love me before. If I don't ask of you, then you won't ask too. If I go away from the courtesan house for a month, you wouldn't give a fuck enough to even call me. You never offer yourself to me—I had to take the initiative always. What do you take me for, Harper?"

Her voice cracked. "Why are you saying this?"

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. "Yearn for me, Harper! Look for me! When you don't see me, you should be in disarray. I should be your only center of focus!"

"And why should I do that? You don't own me!" she shouted back, her voice fierce, defiant.

"I do! I owned you! Everything you have today you owe to me, Harper. You should worship me. You are my courtesan!" he yelled, fury and pain mixing in his voice.

Her palm slapped across his cheek with a crack. A tear slipped down her cheek. "Bastard! I hate you!"

"No! You don't!" he roared, lunging at her. He ripped at her clothes and forced his lips on hers. She bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood. He pulled back with a grimace, tasting the pain, disbelief flashing in his eyes.

"Did you just bite me?" he hissed.

She glared at him, breathing heavily. He pinned her wrists above her head, his eyes wild. desperate and rough, His breath was hot against her skin as he kissed her again, tearing away the remnants of her clothing and tossing them aside.

"Quincy!!!" she cried out. struggling beneath him.

"Stop resisting me, damn it!" he growled His voice was low, possessive. He turned off the light. He kissed down her neck, and despite herself, her body responded, her muscles softening beneath him.

"I'm always gonna have you!" He kissed her lips aggressively, claiming her like a man on the edge of losing everything.

Morning light crept in through the curtains.

Quincy stirred, reaching out with a drowsy hand—only to find emptiness beside him. He shot up, heart pounding, and saw Harper curled up far from him, her back to him. His chest sank.

He scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her gently from behind, burying his nose in her hair.

"Harper…"

"What?" she replied coldly, her voice lifeless.

"I'm sorry."

She turned, eyes wet. "Sorry? You are sorry?"

I shouldn't have done that. I let my anger take over me."

She sat up abruptly, her voice rising. "Leave my room."

"Harper…"

"I said leave my room!" she shouted, standing with shaking legs, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Should I leave instead?"

He stood too, desperate. "Harper, please don't do this. I'm very sorry. Please."

"You said you will never treat me like a courtesan, that you love me. Do you treat women that you love this way?"

His voice broke. "I was just in my feelings yesterday, Harper. I allowed Ross to mess with my brain. My greatest fear was that I would lose you, and I know that I'm gonna lose you since you do not love me."

"What the hell are you saying?" she asked, voice cracking.

"I'm sorry, Harper. You can hit me if it makes you feel better. I cherish you so much. I don't wanna lose you… but I will consider your feelings now too. If you want to go for someone else, I will make it easier for you—as long as it makes you happy."

"Quincy!"

"I will leave now." He kissed her forehead gently, turned, and stepped down from the bed.

"Harper… I know you do not love me, but I can do the love for us both. I just wanna love you only and be happy together forever. It doesn't matter if you do not love me. I only wish you can stay with me—but I'm not gonna force you and make you unhappy."

He turned to leave. Harper watched him go, her breathing quick, her body frozen—until something inside her snapped.

"Quincy!" she called out, her voice full of panic. She rushed after him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Do not leave!"

He paused, stunned. "You want me gone."

"Not anymore! Stay with me."

"Okay, I will stay." He turned around and held her tightly. "Why are you crying, Harper?"

"I don't wanna lose you, Quincy."

"If it's because of everything that I have been doing for you, I won't stop doing them."

"Not that."

"Then why?"

"Because I love you!"

He blinked. "What?"

"I'm in love with you."

"Harper, you don't have to say that to make me feel better."

"I mean it. I really love you, sincerely. I have always liked you since we met at the field."

"That long?" he whispered, voice soft with disbelief.

"Yes! You were so annoying back then, so arrogant and looked foolish—but I was still attracted to you. When I came to the courtesan house, I was praying so hard not to become a courtesan in case I met you again. Then I heard that you got married—I was so mad."

"So you think I'm arrogant?"

"You are! You walk with so much confidence as if you own the world."

He chuckled. "My parents offered the world at my feet, Harper. I guess that's why I'm so confident—but definitely not arrogant. I'm humble enough to realize my feelings for you and admit it."

"You are crazy!"

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Harper! I love you so much, my sweet girl."

"I love you too! I love you so, so much."

He took her hand. "Come with me. I'm gonna show you something."

"What's that?"

"You will see." He smiled and led her into a room where the courtesan's paintings hung.

He walked to a painting, pressed a red light, and let the scanner read his face. A door clicked open.

"There's an elevator in my room and I do not know?"

"It's not possible for you to know!" Quincy grinned. They stepped into the elevator.

"Why is it taking long to get there?"

"The elevator will redirect us like three times."

Finally, the elevator descended. The doors opened to a dark room. Quincy traced the wall, flipped on the light—and Harper gasped.

"Wow! This place is tall!"

"Yes, it is."

"I can't believe a place like this existed in the courtesan house."

"Well, nobody knows too."

She looked around at the gallery-like space. "It looks like a gallery with those paintings."

"The paintings are just a shield." He pressed a button. The paintings vanished, revealing a mountain of boxes.

"What are the chests for?"

"To keep gold bars."

"Gold bars?"

"Yes. This is where Dylan's wealth is kept. We don't keep the money—we buy gold. Each box contains 100 tons. We stopped counting."

Harper gaped. "$5 billion in each box? And then you have this much? Like this mountain of chests?"

"Yes, we do."

"Quincy, ain't you scared of me robbing you off?"

"You can't pack it all. It took years to build." He laughed softly. "The first land we ever owned was used to build this house. Then came the Shield hotels. We rarely needed to touch this gold. It just grew. The only time we come here is to fund someone into a big position."

"Like the politicians?"

"No. Politicians don't take much. People with big ideas—we fund them."

"Was there never a fight for wealth among the siblings?"

He chuckled. "Siblings? The Dylan family only has one heir each generation. It's like a curse. The burden is too much. Our women have to be like us—fearless and ready to fight to the death. Just like you, Harper."

"But I'm not your wife."

"You will be."

"Then Gianna?"

"Leave Gianna. She is here for a reason I don't yet know. Not love."

"But she is your wife still. I don't wanna be a home wrecker."

"If I were in love with Gianna, we wouldn't be here. I tried to make it work, but my heart was always with you—even when I thought you were a man."

"I'm not a man!"

"You were acting like one. But fragile and beautiful. I kept telling myself you were a little brother I had to protect."

"Little brother my foot!" she laughed. "Why did you bring me here?"

"No courtesan gets to live in the penthouse. But I want to show you how much I love and trust you. This is the core of the Dylan family. I'm putting it in your hands."

"I will!"

"Something might happen one day… but if I'm no longer here, everything I own—you own it."

She grabbed his hand tightly. "You will always be here, Quincy. Don't say such words again."