Veil System: Running a Model, High-End Escort and Marriage Agency
Chapter 67: "Justin~" *

Chapter 67: "Justin~" *

She shoved the damn door open like it had personally offended her.

The hallway stretched out before her, drenched in wealth—dark-lit, sleek, stupidly expensive.

The kind of place where the air itself smelled like money, where even the silence felt rich. The walls were lined with subtle gold accents, the plush black carpet swallowed the sound of footsteps, and the dim lighting cast a seductive glow over everything, making it look like a scene from some billionaire’s private fantasy.

And there he was.

Justin Black.

Walking away, hands in his pockets, casual as fuck—like he hadn’t just flipped her entire world upside down and left it burning in his wake. Like he wasn’t the reason her body was overheating, her mind was scrambled, and her soul—yes, her fucking soul—was clawing at her to move.

Her fingers tightened on the doorframe. Her breath came out uneven.

Fuck it.

"Justin~"

Her voice hit the air, low, throaty, laced with something she hadn’t planned to show. Want. Need.

He didn’t stop. Not at first. He just slowed, his head tilting slightly, before finally—finally—he turned to face her.

Didn’t say a damn word.

Just looked.

And holy fuck, she hated how that one silent glance made her stomach flip, made her legs press together like some desperate little girl who had never seen a real man before.

Her fingers twitched at the hem of her dress. She was fidgeting. Fidgeting. Like some shy virgin waiting for her first kiss.

This was humiliating.

She was a CEO. A multimillionaire. That wasn’t even counting the other side of her life. People bowed to her. Feared her. Desired her. And here she was—standing in a damn hallway, staring at an 18-year-old like he was the last drop of water in a fucking desert.

Her lips parted, but no words came out at first. Her throat was dry. Shit. She swallowed, tried again.

"I..." God, this was so fucking embarrassing.

She inhaled sharply, her pride screaming at her to turn around, slam the door, pretend this moment never happened. But her body wasn’t listening.

Her body wanted him.

Needed him.

She lifted her chin, eyes burning with a mix of desire and frustration. "I’m not here for the test anymore. I don’t care what my boss wants. I don’t care about any of that." A shaky breath. "I just—fuck, I just want you. No script. No games. Just me. And you."

Silence.

His gaze didn’t waver. He just stood there, watching, unreadable as ever.

[Ding! +Lust 99. 8–"]

"System I don’t want any notifications or updates in the next hour or two!" The order was absolute.

Isabella’s chest rose and fell quickly. The words came before she could stop them, raw and unfiltered. "Please."

She took a step closer.

"Take me."

Another step.

"With or without their permission—I don’t care. I just need you, Justin." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Fuck, I need you."

Her fingers clenched at her sides, her breath uneven, her pride shattered.

She had just begged.

And goddamn it, if he walked away now, she was following him to the ends of the fucking earth.

Justin looked at her. Just looked.

She stood there, desperate, clinging to the hem of her dress like it was the only thing holding her together. Her lips were parted, her chest rising and falling too fast, her eyes—fuck, her eyes—were burning with something raw, something that would have made any other man weak.

But Justin?

He just stood there. Silent. As if he hadn’t just heard her confess. As if she wasn’t right in front of him, ready to give him everything.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Damn, I should really be careful with women," he thought, or "I might end up charming hundreds of them."

That was a stupid fucking lie.

He would never stop. Never refrain. He wasn’t some monk trying to cleanse his soul. No, he chose his targets, took what he wanted, and today was no different. He had chosen well.

Her fingers clenched tighter around her dress before she finally snapped.

"Justin~"

Her voice cracked just slightly.

She moved.

One second, she was standing there, looking like a goddess on the verge of breaking, and the next, she was in front of him, grabbing his hand. Tight. Determined. She pulled him toward her, her breath shaky, her body warm—then she crashed her lips against his.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow.

It was raw. Hungry.

She pushed him, her fingers gripping his shirt, slamming him against the wall. And Justin—oh, he fucking liked it.

She crashed into him like a fucking storm.

Her fingers clenched in his shirt, yanking him forward, their lips colliding so hard their teeth nearly clacked. There was no slow buildup, no testing the waters—just raw, desperate need. The force of it sent Justin’s back slamming into the wall, his head tilting just slightly from the impact, but he barely even reacted.

If anything, he smirked against her lips, his grip tightening around her waist.

She wasn’t waiting for him to take the lead. Oh no, she was taking what she wanted, claiming him with a kiss that was all tongue and fire, her hands already sliding up his chest, nails digging just enough to make him feel it.

Justin growled against her mouth, deep and approving, before flipping their positions so fast it left her gasping.

Now she was the one shoved against the wall, her back hitting it with a soft thud, but he didn’t give her a second to recover. His mouth was on hers again—hot, demanding, devouring. He took control instantly, one hand cupping the back of her head, angling her exactly how he wanted, the other gripping her waist so tight she could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of her dress.

His lips moved against hers with dangerous precision—kissing, teasing, pulling away just enough to make her chase after him before capturing her again, forcing her to surrender to his pace.

And then came the tongue.

Fuck~

His tongue slid against hers, slow at first, coaxing, taunting, before he deepened the kiss so intensely her knees nearly buckled. She moaned into his mouth, her body arching into him, her fingers threading into his hair, tugging—not gently.

Justin chuckled against her lips, the sound dark, knowing. He liked that.

Their mouths worked against each other in a brutal dance—his tongue sweeping in, curling around hers, pulling her deeper into the kiss, only to pull back, letting her whimper just slightly before he crashed into her again. It was messy. Wet. Absolutely intoxicating.

She wasn’t passive in this.

Hell no.

She fought him for control, her tongue pressing against his, matching his energy, biting his lower lip just enough to make him groan into her mouth. Her hands roamed freely—clutching his shoulders, sliding down his back, feeling the raw power beneath his clothes.

And then they were moving again.

Justin spun them once more, slamming her into him this time as they staggered toward the door. Their bodies pressed so close she could feel every hard inch of him against her. His hands slid lower, gripping her thighs, and before she even realized what was happening—

Her feet were off the ground.