Part 1The Villainess’s Guide to Damage Control

When I gained consciousness, realizing I was trapped in the plot of a trashy romance novel destined to be the "evil rich girl," it was too late.

I had already hired thugs to kidnap the beautiful, innocent main character, Sophie.

According to the script, she was about to be assaulted, beaten, and left with nothing.

In retaliation, Elias—my wealthy childhood best friend who was obsessed with her—would undergo a dark transformation. He would destroy my father’s hedge fund, strip me of my wealth, and have me sold into human trafficking overseas.

Ultimately, I would die alone in a foreign gutter, riddled with disease and missing a kidney.

When reality hit me, I practically pissed myself. Shaking uncontrollably, I called the lead kidnapper:

"Bring her back right now! I'll pay you double—no, triple what we agreed!"

The kidnapper just laughed on the other end of the line.

"Sister, she’s already outside the client's hotel room. The train has left the station. Catch my drift?"

I panicked. Desperate to save my own skin, I blurts out the only available option:

"Take me instead! I'm hotter, curvaceous, and I look like a temptress. I’m way better than that flat, boring college girl! Please, brother... Mr. Kidnapper, please?"

Say what you want, but I know how to handle crisis PR.

Chapter 1

* * *

The hotel room was pitch black, the blackout curtains drawn tight.

I stood in the corner, shaking like a leaf on a vine.

I had managed to talk the thugs into letting Sophie go, but now my knees were about to buckle under the weight of my reality.

Am I really about to let myself get used to save her?

I wanted to cry.

Should I call the police? No, that would expose the fact that I hired them to kidnap her in the first place.

I couldn't catch my breath. Talk about being hoisting by your own petard.

Just as I was spiral into panic, a man staggered out of the bedroom.

He was tall. Even with his face flushed red, there was no hiding how devastatingly handsome he was.

His white dress shirt was completely unbuttoned, revealing a sweaty, rock-hard chest and perfect six-pack abs.

Normally, I’d take a mental picture, appreciate the view, and maybe even offer a low whistle.

But right now, he was supposed to "do" me. I was not in the mood.