Playing the Villainess, He Fell for Me

Not only had she failed to gain any advantage, she’d been berated into silence. Sharon Lawson stomped away in her high heels, fuming. She internally vowed to get Miss Valentine to kick Joanna Kennedy out.

Joanna Kennedy was just a minor celebrity, but Miss Valentine was the eldest daughter of the powerful Valentine Family of Marinus, and her brother was the family heir. Getting rid of Joanna would be as simple as saying the word. When that happened, Sharon would love to see if Joanna Kennedy could still act so cocky!

As Sharon Lawson stewed on this, her anger finally subsided.

Meanwhile, Sharon had barely taken two steps before Anna Yates couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Her crisp laughter was exceptionally clear in the quiet restaurant.

"Hahaha, Jo, you’re going to kill someone with that mouth of yours one day."

Hearing her boisterous laughter and catching Sharon Lawson’s frozen steps in her peripheral vision, Joanna Kennedy thought, ’And you’re pretty good at twisting the knife, aren’t you?’

The portion of sea cucumber rice wasn’t very large, but it was exquisitely plated and tasted wonderful. Joanna Kennedy finished it in a few bites. Even though she had worn gloves while eating the swimming crab, her hands still carried a fishy smell.

"I’m going to the restroom," Joanna Kennedy said, disgusted by the smell on her hands.

Anna Yates was busy texting a cute guy she’d just met. At Joanna’s words, she nodded. "Mm-hm, go ahead."

The restrooms were on the south side of the restaurant, accessible via a winding corridor. The night sea breeze was cool, and a string of small lights wound around the railing, creating a romantic atmosphere.

Joanna Kennedy meticulously scrubbed the crab smell from her fingers with soap. When someone walked up beside her, she assumed they were also there to wash their hands and quickened her pace.

"Not only are you beautiful, Miss Kennedy, but your hands are quite a pleasing sight as well." A vaguely familiar, flippant male voice spoke up.

Joanna Kennedy: "..."

Joanna Kennedy recognized the voice. It belonged to the man she’d met in the elevator—Charlotte Underwood’s new boyfriend.

She really couldn’t understand it. Why did all these rich kids like to corner people in the restroom?

Was the restroom some special NPC spawn point?

When she didn’t speak, Ron Warren moved closer, his tone suggestive. "They say a woman’s hands are her second face. In that case, both of your faces are beautiful, Miss Kennedy."

"..."

’Does he think he’s being clever?’

Joanna Kennedy suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Her tone was cold. "Can I help you?"

"Like I said, I’m your fan, Miss Kennedy. Might I have the honor of inviting you to dinner?" Ron Warren said, his eyes narrowed as he brazenly sized up the girl in front of him.

Everyone here was either rich or well-connected. Ron Warren had originally planned to find out who Joanna Kennedy had come with. He was a lecher, not an idiot; it wasn’t worth the trouble to offend someone he shouldn’t.

But then he saw her with the eldest daughter of the Yates family and figured she must have just tagged along with them.

The Yates Group was nothing to be afraid of.

With that thought, his gaze grew even more brazen, practically glued to the girl’s fair, beautiful face. "So, Miss Kennedy, have you considered my offer?"

"Not interested," Joanna Kennedy said, her voice frosty.

Joanna Kennedy glanced behind him but didn’t see Charlotte Underwood. "Where’s Charlotte? Aren’t you afraid she’ll see you?" she asked.

Ron Warren reacted as if he’d heard the world’s funniest joke. "Me? Afraid of her? Are you kidding me?"

"Charlotte and I are just regular friends." Ron Warren seemed to have an idea, his tone turning confident. "I hear you have a new movie coming out, Miss Kennedy. How about this: one dinner in exchange for me buying out ten full screenings?"

As he spoke, he reached for her. Just as his fingers were about to touch the girl’s fair skin, Joanna Kennedy took a step back to dodge him, her expression turning glacial. "Keep your hands to yourself."

With her pretty face gone cold and her voice laced with undisguised disgust, she seemed all the more vibrant and alive. Strangely, it wasn’t infuriating in the least.

Ron Warren swallowed and rubbed his fingers together in disappointment. He then adopted a superior air, looking down at her. "What? Not enough? A lead movie role, resources for a TV series, a brand endorsement deal—take your pick. Now is that a sincere enough offer for you?"

He looked as if he were bestowing a great mercy, as if she would be utterly foolish not to accept. Joanna Kennedy was so angry she had to laugh.

Almost no one came this way. If she got into a prolonged struggle with him, she would inevitably be at a disadvantage. Joanna Kennedy swallowed her anger. "Get out of my way."

"What?" Ron Warren asked in disbelief. His confident smile froze for a moment.

When he processed it, his expression darkened.

He’d never been humiliated like this by some minor celebrity before. Flying into a rage, he grabbed Joanna Kennedy’s wrist and slammed her against the wall. "What, you think that’s not enough?! If I didn’t think you were hot, I’d have already... ARGH!"

Caught off guard, Joanna Kennedy was yanked forward, her back slamming into the wall. Ignoring the pain, she gritted her teeth, bent her knee, and drove it upward with all her might.

Ron Warren screamed in pain, doubling over and clutching his groin as he cursed, "Fucking bitch! ARGH!"

Now free, Joanna Kennedy kicked him hard again.

Ron Warren’s expression turned savage. Cursing, he raised a hand to strike her. With lightning-fast reflexes, Joanna Kennedy snatched a ceramic seashell decoration from the countertop and smashed it over his head, spitting viciously, "You son of a bitch! You son of a bitch!"

"ARGH!"

She hadn’t held back. Ron Warren staggered, then slumped against the base of the wall. The whites of his eyes showed, and he looked like he was about to pass out.

Joanna Kennedy kicked him again. "You dare pass out, and I’ll hit you again. Then I’ll drag you out to sea and feed you to the fish. You believe me?!"

Ron Warren: "..."

’Is she even human?’

His head was ringing, and warm blood trickled down his face. The spots where she’d kicked him ached so badly he wanted to cry. But remembering Joanna Kennedy’s threat, he didn’t dare pass out.

"Now, text Charlotte Underwood. Tell her to come pick you up and take you to the hospital," Joanna Kennedy commanded. Only after she saw him shakily take out his phone and successfully send the message did she turn and leave, her face cold.

Back in the restaurant, Anna Yates had long since finished her meal. She glanced at the time; Joanna Kennedy had been gone for more than ten minutes. ’What’s taking her so long just to wash her hands?’

Anna Yates was about to get up and look for her when she saw Joanna Kennedy walking back.

"I was just about to come looking for you," Anna Yates said. Then her peripheral vision caught something, and she asked in surprise, "Why are your hands so red?"

It wasn’t just her hands; her wrists were red, too.

"It’s nothing. Just a small incident," Joanna Kennedy said dismissively.

Anna Yates was about to ask more when a terrified, high-pitched scream from a woman outside drew their attention. A waiter hurried over, and the other diners craned their necks to see what was going on.

What was happening?

"What’s going on?" Anna Yates said, getting up to have a look herself.

Joanna Kennedy pulled her back down. "Probably just got their hand pinched by a crab. What’s there to see?"

Anna Yates: "..."

’Pinched by a crab, my ass. Who screams like they’ve seen a ghost just because a crab pinched them?’

Joanna Kennedy couldn’t hold her back and could only follow. Peeking through the crowd of staff and other onlookers, they saw Ron Warren being carried toward a car. Beside him, Charlotte Underwood’s face was white as a sheet.

A small patch of blood remained on the pristine white floor, a testament to what had just occurred.