Just as Catherine approached Bert’s car, he stepped out, her bag pinched between his fingers.
It was a small black chain purse—dainty and compact. In his large hand, it looked even smaller. He leaned casually against the car, eyes slightly narrowed as he waited for her to co closer.
Dressed in dark, cool tones, he looked even more severe beneath the night sky. His features were deep and striking—handso, yes, but also carrying a sharp undercurrent that was impossible to ignore.
Catherine braced herself and walked toward him, her gaze fixed on her bag.
"Thank you..."
Out of courtesy, she murmured her thanks and reached for the purse—only for him to lift his hand abruptly, letting her grasp nothing but air.
Catherine glared up at him.
"What are you doing?"
"You want to take sothing back from . Shouldn’t you pay a price for it?"
He toyed with her purse with lazy ease, looking down at her with a teasing glint.
Catherine tried again to grab it, but with their height difference, he only had to raise his hand a little for it to slip out of reach. Frustration welled up in her.
"What do you want?"
He gave her a long, deliberate look. Then his thin lips parted, playful and wicked.
"Be my girlfriend. Or kiss . Pick one."
Catherine stared at him like she’d just seen a ghost, her eyes wide with shock and irritation.
How could he be so shaless? She’d rejected him several tis—shouldn’t a man like him lose interest after being turned down? Why was he still clinging to her? It didn’t match his usual cold, untouchable persona at all.
And the choices he gave her—she didn’t want either. No matter which one she picked, he’d be the one benefiting.
So she took a small step back and answered firmly,
"I choose neither."
He didn’t get angry—instead, his brow arched.
"Are you sure?"
Catherine nodded. In the next second, he reached out, pulled her straight into his arms, and lowered his head to claim her lips without hesitation.
His movents were swift and domineering—Catherine didn’t even have ti to react, let alone resist.
The late-autumn night was freezing, and her lips had been cold from standing outside so long. But within monts, he’d kissed them burning hot, flooding the space between their lips with nothing but him.
His large hand clamped firmly around the back of her head, while the other—still holding her bag—wrapped around her waist, pulling her completely against him. His lips claid hers, sotis tender and lingering, sotis fierce and demanding.
Soone out for a walk or a late jog passed nearby. Bert shifted instantly, turning with her and pressing her back against the car. His tall fra shielded her completely, blocking any prying gazes before deepening the kiss even further.
Catherine was furious, shocked, and mortified all at once. The sha ca from the fact that the deeper his kiss grew, the more she could feel the hardness pressing against her. She had experienced intimacy once in her life—she knew exactly what that was. Her mind exploded in white noise.
When Bert finally released her, Catherine’s eyes were rimd red.
His arms remained loosely around her. In her anger, she turned her head and bit down hard on his forearm. While he reacted to the pain, she snatched her bag away, voice trembling with a choked cry as she ran.
Shaless!
Pervert!
Scoundrel!
Liar!
As she ran, she scrubbed her mouth harshly with the back of her hand again and again. He had apologized that day in his house—said he wouldn’t do this kind of thing again. Yet not even twenty-four hours later, he was pulling the sa trick!
n were all the sa—never keeping their promises, always lying with sweet words.
As for Bert, he barely reacted to the sting on his arm. His eyes followed Catherine’s fleeing figure, and he lifted his fingers to his lips. The gesture was slow, sensual, and tinged with lingering desire. A faint smile glimred in his dark eyes—he was far from satisfied.
Of course he rembered what he had said about not being abrupt with her anymore. He just underestimated his own self-control. At the ti, he really had ant not to frighten or upset her with sudden intimacy.
But he simply couldn’t hold back.
Once he had tasted her, he couldn’t quit. Every ti he saw the softness of her lips, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her breathless. Every ti he saw her gentle, delicate features, he wanted to pin her beneath him and love her thoroughly.
Lowering his gaze to the uncomfortable tightness in his slacks, he stood in the cold wind a while longer—cooling down both body and mind.
anwhile, Catherine walked ho with her face burning and her lips still tingling. She had to force herself to calm down at the door before she could step inside.
But her flushed cheeks weren’t going away anyti soon. When Renata saw the redness on her face, she looked worried.
"Why is your face so red? Are you catching a cold? The weather changes too fast this season—it’s easy to get sick."
Catherine hurried to explain.
"Nothing, really... maybe it was just the cold wind outside."
She then went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Sohow, after kissing him, her mouth felt inexplicably dry.
Catherine had barely been ho for a few minutes when she received a call from Lilian.
On the phone, Lilian asked with genuine concern whether she had gotten ho safely, saying how much she enjoyed being friends with her, and how she hoped they could hang out and chat more often whenever they were free.
Catherine liked Lilian too. They were the sa type of people—simple and sincere.
But the thought of Lilian’s older brother made Catherine’s heart skip a beat.
What if Bert showed up again the next ti she t with Lilian?
anwhile, Bert drove ho alone.
After turning on the lights and stepping inside, he stood there taking in the view of his spacious apartnt.
The more he looked, the more he felt that this place truly needed a woman—soone to bring warmth into the cold, empty rooms, soone to bring warmth to him.
He rarely had thoughts like this.
He used to think he was invincible, and that love and won were optional in his life.
But now... now that there was soone in his heart, he suddenly had a weakness.
He found himself yearning for warmth, longing to keep that warm, gentle person by his side.
As he stepped further inside, his phone rang.
Bert glanced at the caller ID, the corner of his lips curling into a cold smile.
He answered the call and went straight to the point.
"President Channing, the eight million is ready for you. Once work starts tomorrow morning, finance will transfer it imdiately."
The call was from Channing.
He didn’t even need to speak—Bert had already said exactly what he wanted to hear, making Channing burst with joy on the other end.
"That’s great, Bert! You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this eight million!"
After finalizing his divorce with Tracy, Channing couldn’t wait to call Bert for the money, afraid Bert would go back on his word.
He didn’t expect Bert to be so straightforward.
His mood—which had been gloomy after the divorce—finally lifted a little.
But just as Bert pleased him on the matter of the money, he humiliated him on another.
"So, how does it feel to be wearing a green hat, President Channing?"
The ruthless words stabbed right through Channing’s heart.
He nearly choked on his own rage.
Bert felt an inexplicable satisfaction.
"All right, it’s getting late. I’m going to rest. President Channing, you should go to bed early too."
He hung up imdiately, not giving Channing any chance to respond.
Perfect.
Everything was moving according to plan, step by step, exactly as he intended.
Everything was under his control.
If he wanted Channing, Lucca, and Tracy to live, they’d live.
If he wanted them to suffer—none of them would see a peaceful day.
Every grievance Catherine had suffered, every pain she had endured—he would make them pay back tenfold.
He was that petty.
He was that vindictive.
Because they had hurt soone he cared about.
Channing sat alone in his empty ho, feeling utterly desolate.
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