Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1002. I'm Pretty Good at Improvising Shea let out a nervous chuckle. "Don't underestimate me. This has nothing to do with your job," she said, though she knew deep down exactly what Allen meant. He wasn't just talking about his writing skills, he was reminding her that he could think on his feet, create narratives, and twist situations in his favor, all with the ease of someone who had spent years crafting stories. Shea realized that Allen's mind was already working overtime, coming up with ways to turn the tables, to shift the power back to him. Allen simply smirked, his expression showing unspoken confidence. "I'm pretty good at improvising. So don't think you've got everything figured out just because of the outline. I might just surprise you. You'll find out soon enough," he said casually, his tone laced with a promise of things to come. He had already mapped out several ways to steer the scenario to his advantage, and he was looking forward to seeing how Shea would react. Walking over to the bed, Allen read the note in his hand, absorbing the details of the scenario. According to the outline, Shea was a mafia boss, while Allen was cast as a lowly street rascal who had been caught causing trouble in her territory. Today, her subordinates had finally managed to catch him and bring him before her, where he now awaited his punishment. The setup was clearly designed to put Allen in a submissive role. It was a good idea --clever, even—but Allen's mind was already buzzing with possibilities to flip the script. He stood at the side of the bed and gestured for Shea to join him. "Come on, Boss," he said, his voice laced with the mock respect of someone who was clearly playing along but had no real fear of the consequences. Shea walked over and sat on the bed, folding her legs under her as she tried to maintain the air of authority the role required. Allen took a step closer, his demeanor shifting to match the submissive role he had been assigned. But there was a glint in his eye, a challenge that told Shea he wasn't going to make this easy for her. "Do you need to tie my hands?" he asked, his voice softening as he addressed her according to her role. Shea hesitated, considering the implications of restricting Allen's movements. She didn't want to take things too far too soon—she still wanted to enjoy the game, to play out the scenario as she had envisioned it. "No need," she finally said, her voice steady as she met his gaze. "Too much trouble." "Okay," Allen replied, his tone calm and compliant, though the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth suggested otherwise. He stepped back, allowing Shea to settle into her role as the dominant figure, while he played the part of the captured troublemaker. Shea straightened her posture, her expression hardening as she slipped into character. She was the mafia boss now. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at Allen, who stood before her with an air of casual defiance that didn't quite match the role of a captured street rascal. "Do you know how much trouble you've caused me?" Shea began, her voice was cold and commanding. She leaned back slightly as if to survey him with disdain. "My men have been running around in circles trying to catch you. You've been a thorn in my side for too long, and now, here you are, finally caught. What do you have to say for yourself?" Allen kept his gaze steady on her, his posture relaxed, but with a hint of insolence that he knew would rile her up. "Trouble? Me?" he said with mock innocence, shrugging slightly. "I was just having a bit of fun. Didn't think the great boss would be so bothered by a little street kid like me." Shea's eyes flashed with irritation, though she did her best to keep her composure. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Allen was supposed to be intimidated, maybe even beg for mercy. But instead, he was being flippant, almost playful, as if he didn't take her seriously at all. "You think this is a joke?" Shea snapped, her tone sharper now as she leaned forward, trying to assert her dominance. "Do you know what happens to people who cross me? They don't get to laugh about it. They don't get to walk away. You should be scared." Allen's smirk grew, a small, calculated expression. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them, his eyes locked onto hers. "Scared?" he echoed, his voice low and almost teasing. "Of you? I've heard stories, Boss. But standing here in front of you now… I'm not so sure I see what all the fuss is about." Shea's breath caught in her throat, her carefully constructed facade cracking under Allen's words. He was flipping the script, challenging her authority in a way she hadn't expected. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, but she couldn't deny the thrill that ran through her at the way he was pushing back, refusing to play the submissive role she had assigned him. Shea tried to regain control. Her voice hardened as she forced herself to stay in character. "You really don't get it, do you?" she said, standing up from the bed to close the remaining distance between them. She was close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that her breath mingled with his. Without breaking eye contact, Shea lifted the whip, her fingers tightening around the handle. She used the tip of the whip to trace a slow, deliberate line across Allen's face, the leather just barely grazing his skin. The sensation was light but unmistakable. It was a teasing touch that spoke of both power and restraint. She dragged the tip down his cheek, across his jawline, and then down his neck, where it lingered just above his collarbone.