Sinful Temptation: Mr. Playboy Zillionaire Pleads For My Return

"Iris, you're grown now..."

The words were a hushed breath against Iris Curtis's ear, dark with longing. Heat seared through her, a tremor rippling down her spine.

From the funeral home, the muted weeping of mourners could be heard.

Pinned against the wooden railing in a gazebo behind the funeral home, Iris whimpered, her voice unsteady, "Anyone could walk in..."

The hem of her black, form-fitting dress rode up, her long legs brushing against the sharp fabric of Vincent Stewart's tailored trousers.

......

"Have you heard? At Caden Lambert's funeral yesterday, a pair of shameless lovers were making out at the gazebo behind the funeral home."

In a private suite on the second floor of Mellow Café, Gretchen Higgins, a wealthy socialite, pressed a silk handkerchief to her lips as she leaned toward Bryanna Stewart, her expression curling with distaste.

"Some playboy must've gotten tangled up with a slut. No shame, even in a funeral home," Bryanna scoffed, revulsion flashing in her eyes.

Nothing disgusted her more than people who had a chaotic and depraved private life.

"The surveillance footage is already being reviewed by the Lambert family. It won't be long before they find out," Gretchen added.

Lost in thought, Iris jolted as coffee spilled onto the table.

Bryanna's eyes flicked up. "Iris, steady your hand while pouring the coffee."

Gretchen lifted her chin, her eyes settling on Iris with quiet scrutiny. "Bryanna, you've raised her well-polite, poised. And most importantly, she never crosses the line."

Bryanna took a slow sip of coffee, satisfied. "A woman's purity is her most valued virtue. For those from distinguished families, it matters even more."

The door to the suite groaned as it swung open. "Mr. Stewart has arrived," someone announced.

With her head lowered, Iris caught the gleam of impeccably polished leather shoes, the sharp lines of bespoke trousers-a portrait of quiet luxury.

Vincent greeted Gretchen and Bryanna, his voice carried a smooth, measured depth.

Bryanna, his sister-in-law, greeted him with a warm smile. "You only got back yesterday and headed straight to Caden's funeral. Iris, did you see him there?"

Heat rushed to Iris's face at the memory of last night's scandalous encounter. She still couldn't fathom why Vincent had suddenly lost control.

The coffee carafe in her hand was blistering, yet she barely felt it.

"No, we didn't cross paths," said Vincent.

Vincent reached for the carafe, taking it from her grasp and pouring himself a cup leisurely.

Her palm burned and flushed a furious shade of red.

A man who commanded power with effortless authority-yet just as easily, he could deny their connection and carry on as if nothing had happened.

Bryanna let out a light laugh. "Iris has always been a bit wary of Vincent. And with him being overseas for the past seven years, the gap between them only grew wider."

Gretchen laughed lightly. "That much is obvious. She looks like a mouse cornered by a cat-completely terrified."

Bryanna teased, "Iris, there's no need to be scared of him. Perhaps it's time I find him a wife. Someone who can get him to drop that icy exterior and bring out his smile."

Gretchen placed her cup down. "I heard Dolores Dawson is at Mellow Café today."

Bryanna turned to Vincent. "She's considering a connection through marriage with our family. What's your take on it?"

Vincent took a sip of coffee, fingers resting lightly on the delicate porcelain cup. "I'll let you handle it."

Iris lowered her head even further, her nails digging into her palm.

Bryanna beamed with approval. "I'll let Mrs. Dawson know that you're interested."

"Then congratulations are in order," Gretchen said with a wide smile. "Looks like we'll be raising our glasses at your wedding soon, Vincent."

Once their coffee was gone, Bryanna and Gretchen lingered near the entrance, making idle conversation.

Iris inched toward Vincent, whispering, "The funeral home had security cameras. The Lamberts are going through the footage."

Vincent took out a cigarette from its case, rolling it between his fingers before placing it between his lips. His tone was indifferent. "And?"

Iris's breath caught. "They'll discover it was us!"

The gazebo stood like a hidden sanctuary, cloaked in a lush tapestry of intertwining vines and vibrant green foliage. Inside, the space felt private, almost secluded; anyone outside would catch only glimpses of their silhouettes, framed by the enchanting display of nature.

However, the security footage might reveal their faces and every moment clearly.

"And?" Vincent bit down lightly on the cigarette, his tone almost amused, as if she had just told him something funny.

Since the death of Vincent's elder brother, Vincent had taken command of Stewart Group.

With the company dominating over half of the city's industries, he stood at the pinnacle of power-untouchable.

For him, their encounter was nothing more than a fleeting indulgence.

For her, it was a catastrophe waiting to unfold.

A sleek yellow Porsche pulled up to the curb, its tinted window lowering to reveal a few stylish young men in designer shades. "Stewart, let's hit the club."

Vincent crushed the cigarette between his fingers, his eyes sweeping the street. With no trash bin in sight, he flicked it toward Iris.

Then, without so much as a backward glance, he strode to the car and slid inside.

The Porsche sped off, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

Iris stared at the cigarette butt resting in her palm, cold emptiness creeping in.

She felt she was nothing but a temporary amusement-used, discarded, and left behind.

......

Vincent hadn't set foot in his family home for days.

Bryanna called him. "I've arranged a meeting with Elianna Dawson. Are you going to see her?"

That very night, he came back.

As they sat in the living room, Bryanna cast Iris a knowing glance. "See? Vincent might entertain himself however he wants, but when it comes to important matters, he doesn't waste time. The moment Elianna's name came up, he was back in an instant."

Vincent leaned back against the sofa, his eyes settling on Iris. "Is your hand okay?"

Bryanna's brow furrowed. "Your hand? What happened, Iris?"

Iris curled her fingers into a fist. "It's nothing, just a minor burn."

A nearby servant let out a chuckle. "Mr. Stewart is quite the gentleman. He'll make a devoted husband one day."

Bryanna picked up a photograph and held it out. "This is Elianna. Take a look. Do you like her?"

Vincent arched a brow, then shifted his attention to Iris. "What do you think?"

Smirking, Bryanna slid the photo closer to Iris. "Go on, have a look."

In the photo, a young lady cradled a bouquet of lilies, her delicate features radiating innocence and her curves absolutely stunning.

Iris gave a barely perceptible nod.

Vincent studied the photograph for a minute before setting it down. "Not bad. Seems like you've got good taste, Iris."

Her brow twitched. It was Bryanna's choice. So why did it sound like she had a say in it?

She knew the truth. Vincent had a preference for women with alluring curves.

Bryanna clapped her hands. "A perfect match! Dolores mentioned Elianna had her eye on you for a while, Vincent. Seems like fate-you'd be tempting destiny if you turned her down."

Later, Iris went upstairs. She hadn't yet reached her room when a tall figure stepped into her path, pressing her into the corner of the staircase.

"Move out," Vincent muttered, his breath warm against her ear.

Iris struggled, but his grip was unyielding, holding her flush against his lean frame.

"I'll buy you an apartment," he murmured, lips grazing her skin.

Tears stung her eyes.

Tomorrow, he would meet Elianna. A perfect union between two powerful families-soon, there would be a wedding.

And what was she to him?

"You're not worried Miss Dawson will find out?" Iris blurted amidst tears.

Vincent pressed a lingering kiss to the hollow of her throat, his voice low and thick with desire. "She won't."

Iris squeezed her eyes shut as warm tears streaked down her cheeks.

To him, she was a secret lover, a caged plaything.

To the public, she was Bryanna's adopted daughter-a member of the Stewart family.

But the fact was that she was an orphan.

She had been fortunate-able to grow up like any other girl, given the opportunity to study. But it had all depended on Bryanna's fleeting moments of generosity.

There was no one to rely on but herself.

At the very least, she had her education. Enrolled in the top college in the city, she was just a year away from graduating.

One day, she hoped to be independent, save enough to buy her own apartment, live like any normal woman, fall in love, marry, and have children.

Nowhere in that future had she ever pictured being someone's secret lover.

"Uncle Vin..."

"Just call me Vincent," Vincent cut in, his grip tilting her chin up.

Iris gave a strained smile.

"I can act like it never happened that night."

In the dim light, a flicker of something unreadable passed through Vincent's eyes.

Downstairs, Bryanna's voice rang sharp and clear as she spoke into the phone. "I've got the surveillance footage now. Let's find out which slut had the nerve to seduce a man at a funeral."