The man let out a low, uneven breath. “You sure know how to make yourself comfortable. But you really shouldn’t have tried to drug me.”
Before the words fully settled, he flipped over and pinned the woman beneath him, his voice roughened with anger and disbelief.
This woman had actually tried to set him up.
He had every intention of making her realize she’d messed with the wrong person.
But Josephine Sullivan wasn’t the least bit rattled. The corner of her lips lifted lazily, her eyes hazy with heat and mischief.
“What drug? I just thought you looked decent enough. Figured I wouldn’t mind having a little fun.”
Her slender fingers brushed across his firm stomach, slow and teasing, each light stroke sending a shiver down his spine.
The man let out a humorless laugh, clearly furious.
“Fine, Josephine. Didn’t expect you to have this kind of nerve.”
Josephine gave a soft chuckle, leaning close to Benedict Hawthorne’s ear. “You talk too much.”
At that, Benedict’s gaze darkened. “Hope you don’t regret that.”
As his movements grew more insistent, Josephine’s eyes went unfocused, her breath catching, lips parting in short gasps she couldn’t hold back.
Benedict glanced up, his expression growing even deeper, and immediately continued with sharper intent.
…
The next morning, Josephine slowly opened her eyes, only to be met with a cold, clipped voice.
“You’re awake. We need to talk.”
She lifted her head and saw Benedict Hawthorne’s striking face right in front of her, and a wave of shock rolled through her.
So last night wasn’t a dream.
They had actually slept together?
A rush of foreign memories suddenly flooded her mind, making her raise a hand to rub her temples.
The sting faded, and only then did Josephine Sullivan realize she’d slipped into the pages of a book.
That very novel she’d skimmed before, “The Delicate Darling Loved to Heaven by the Top Young Master.”
The story was set in the sixties, a strange and tense time.
At first she’d thought the book was boring, the plot tired, nothing new at all—until she noticed a doomed side character who shared her exact name. Even the girl’s looks, clothing, and family background were practically copied from her.
Only difference? That girl had a nasty temper and her chin stuck so high it practically scraped the sky, treating everyone like they weren’t worth a glance.
She’d known Benedict Hawthorne since they were kids; their families watched them grow up and later decided they should get engaged.
But she had never taken that fiancé seriously. Sure, he was a soldier, but he was cold as ice and didn’t know how to coax a girl at all.
So she dug in her heels, refusing to get the marriage certificate with him, and kept plotting how to get rid of the engagement altogether.
Her stepsister Miranda Minter egged her on, and Josephine tampered with Benedict’s drink, trying to send him to Miranda’s bed so she could force him to break off the marriage.
In the book, Benedict forced himself to stay alert and jumped out a window to escape.
The next day he went straight to the Sullivan house to end the engagement. The elders scolded him, but he didn’t defend himself, didn’t say a word.
Once the engagement was called off, the girl was over the moon, practically ready to shout it from the rooftops.
But without Benedict, a military officer, backing the Sullivans, their enemies came knocking nonstop. Their property was checked inside out, and the whole family was on the brink of being sent down to the countryside.
Her father, Clarence Yates, desperate to save himself, issued a public statement severing ties with the Sullivan family. Then he planned to run off to Hong Kong with her stepmother Francesca Minter, stepsister Miranda, and stepbrother Tobias Minter—taking a pile of cash with him.
She even naively thought her father would take her along. But the day before they fled, he sold her to an old man.
The book said she never had a child, suffered ten years of misery, and died miserably.
Meanwhile, that stepsister Miranda was the novel’s heroine. According to the book, she was beautiful, kind, helpful, talented—glowing wherever she went.
Miranda had secretly liked Benedict for years and always resented Josephine for “stealing” him.
When she heard the Sullivans were about to be sent down, she sweet-talked Clarence into handing over most of the family’s money, took it to Hong Kong, invested everywhere, and quickly got on her feet.
Later she met a rich Hong Kong heir, Zheng Hao. The moment they saw each other, sparks flew. They stuck to each other every day, and after they married, he spoiled her like a treasure.
Josephine Sullivan finally pieced those messy memories together, and her stomach twisted with unease.
The original Josephine had really been something else—living a perfectly easy life yet insisting on ruining it.
Right then, Benedict Hawthorne slowly got up from the bed. He wasn’t wearing a thing, just stood there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Josephine’s attention snapped back instantly.
"You—what are you doing? Could you not act like a creep?"
Benedict arched a brow.
"You stared all you wanted last night. Now you’re shy? Or did you forget how enthusiastic you were?"
Josephine’s face flushed instantly.
"I… I thought I was dreaming, okay?"
Benedict bent down to pick up the white shirt on the floor and slipped it on.
As he fastened the buttons one by one, his voice cooled.
"Dreaming? Josephine Sullivan, nothing you did last night looked like someone dreaming. So go on—what exactly are you up to?"
Josephine bit her lower lip, brain spinning like crazy.
She absolutely couldn’t keep repeating the original girl’s stupidity. She had to think fast.
"Benedict… I… I actually like you."
She forced herself to say it.
"I was confused before, but now I’ve figured things out. I don’t want to break off the engagement."
Benedict’s hands stilled. His sharp gaze locked onto her, like he was peeling away every layer she had.
"Oh? Really like me? Josephine, you think I’ll buy that?"
He let out a short, cold laugh.
Josephine’s heart tightened, but she held her ground.
"Believe it or don’t. Either way, I’m not leaving you."
Benedict fell silent for a moment.
"Fine. Since that’s your stance, the engagement stays for now. But Josephine, don’t try anything stupid."
Josephine finally let out a quiet breath. Looked like she’d managed to settle him for the moment.
Next, she’d have to figure out—fast—how to keep herself and the Sullivan family from getting sent downhill.
Josephine’s thoughts burned hot: her good‑for‑nothing father and that stepmother’s whole brood—just wait. None of them were getting away this time. They’d learn what real despair felt like.
Benedict fastened his trousers, shrugged on his green military jacket, and said, “Tomorrow, we’re getting the marriage certificate.”
Josephine blurted out, “Huh? That fast?”
Benedict’s dark eyes fixed on her pale face. “Why? Planning to back out?”
His tone left zero room for argument.
Her heart thudded nervously, but the moment she pictured the miserable ending the book had given her, she clenched her jaw.
“No. I’m not backing out.”
Only then did Benedict nod. “Good. Settled, then.”
He pushed the door open to leave.
Right then, a woman’s voice—sweet but dripping with irritation—cut through the air.
“You two—what are you doing in the same room?”
“Oh dear sister, this really isn’t proper, is it?”
Josephine let out a cold snort. “Miranda, drop the act. That drug last night—wasn’t that your idea?”
Miranda’s face drained of color, though she forced herself to keep standing. “Sister, don’t talk nonsense. How could I ever do something like that?”
But a flash of malice flickered in her eyes.
How could this idiot Josephine not obediently dump Benedict onto her bed?
Miranda’s gaze then slid toward Benedict. Her eyes traced his tight waist, the faint outline of his abs showing beneath the fabric—an effortless kind of allure that made her breath catch.
A man like that should have been hers. Why should Josephine get him? Why?