Mistakenly Provoking the Gangster Prince

The back alley of New York University's south gate was a kaleidoscope of neon lights and shadows.

Elena Vance had just gone through a breakup. Under the encouragement of her best friend, she stepped into the "Midnight" bar for the first time in her life. Emboldened by alcohol, she pointed at the most dazzling and coldest man in the center of the dance floor and shouted at the top of her lungs:

"So what if you're handsome! You look like you need a punch, who are you trying to impress with that attitude!"

At that moment, the originally noisy bar fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.

In the center of the dance floor, Julian Foster slowly turned his head. He had a handsome face that was intensely aggressive, with dark, messy hair partially obscuring his eyes. His entire being radiated a "stay away from me" hostility.

"Are you talking to me?" Julian's voice was calm, but it instantly made Elena's alcohol-induced courage vanish.

"I... I said you... are handsome..." Elena immediately lost her nerve and tried to slip away.

Julian didn't chase her. He just stood there, watching the figure fleeing like a rabbit, a cruel yet excited smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Julian, who's that girl? How dare she talk to you like that?" a subordinate asked tremblingly.

"I don't know her." Julian took a sip of cold whiskey, his eyes dark and brooding. "But tomorrow, she will know me."

Early the next morning, Elena walked toward the teaching building with her books as usual, only to find a whole row of black Maybachs parked at the university gate.

The surrounding students were gathered in thick layers, watching.

Julian Foster, dressed in a black motorcycle suit, leaned against a car door, holding a warm breakfast in his hand.

"Elena Vance, come here." He beckoned, his tone like he was calling his own pet.

Elena shrank behind the crowd, wishing she could find a hole to crawl into. "You... you must have the wrong person, right?"

Julian strode over, and under the watchful eyes of everyone, he cornered her against a wall. Leaning down to her ear, his voice was low and seductive:

"Weren't you scolding me quite happily last night? Why aren't you continuing this morning?"

Elena Vance originally thought that scolding Julian Foster in the bar last night was just a nightmare.

But when she saw twelve black Maybachs neatly lined up at the university gate early the next morning, she knew the nightmare had only just begun.

Students from the entire university were gathered at the gate, pointing and whispering.

"Isn't that Julian Foster? The 'Prince' of the Foster family in New York?" "What is he doing at our school? Who is he looking for?"

Julian was dressed in a pure black motorcycle suit, holding a bag of steaming hot dumplings, leaning boredly against a car door and smoking. His gaze swept through the crowd of students and finally landed precisely on Elena, who was attempting to climb over a wall to escape.

"Miss Vance, climbing walls doesn't quite match your 'heroic' personality from last night."

Julian's voice wasn't loud, but it made Elena's body freeze instantly.

She turned her head awkwardly, forcing a smile that looked worse than crying. "Mr. Foster, what a coincidence. What brings you here to... inspect our school?"

"Inspect?" Julian walked over slowly, cornering her step by step. "I'm here to catch up with Miss Vance. When you called me 'punchable' last night, you were very energetic."

"I was drunk! Really! I'm allergic to alcohol, I talk nonsense when I drink!" Elena clasped her hands together, pleading desperately.

Julian stared at her deer-like eyes, which were wide with panic, and suddenly found it a bit amusing. He reached out and stuffed the bag of dumplings into her arms, his tone leaving no room for argument:

"Eat it. After you're done, come with me."

"Where to?"

"To let you see if I'm really 'punchable'." Julian gave a wicked smile, directly picked Elena up horizontally, and threw her into the back seat of the Maybach.

Elena Vance was taken by Julian Foster to a private shooting range.

"Hold it." Julian stuffed a delicate pistol into Elena's hand. "Miss Vance, since you think I'm arrogant, let's see who's more arrogant."

Elena's hands were shaking. "Mr. Foster, I really don't know how to use this..."

"I'll teach you." Julian strode behind her, encircling her from behind. His hot chest pressed against her back, and his long fingers covered the back of her hand, leading her hand to slowly pull the trigger.

"Bang!"

The bullet hit the bullseye.

"See that?" Julian's voice sounded in her ear, low and sexy. "This feeling of being in control of everything is what you call 'arrogant'."

For the rest of the afternoon, Elena was kept by Julian's side.

He took her to an underground racing track for drag racing, took her to a gang negotiation scene filled with killing intent, and even took her to taste the most expensive afternoon tea in New York.

"Julian Foster, what exactly do you want?" Elena finally couldn't help but ask.

Julian put down his coffee cup, his dark eyes staring at her. "Elena Vance, you are the only woman in New York who dared to scold me in public. Since you scolded me, you have to take responsibility."

"Responsibility? How?"

"Be my girlfriend." Julian said it matter-of-factly. "Since you think I'm 'punchable', then stay by my side and supervise me at all times. How about it?"

Elena's jaw almost dropped in shock.

Did this gangster prince's brain really get damaged by her scolding?