Christine finally went back ho.
As the driver turned into the neighborhood, she spotted two sleek black cars parked in front of her house - a Maybach and a Cadillac.
The driver pulled up behind the Maybach. Before the car had fully stopped, Jas Cooper jumped out from the Maybach's passenger seat and jogged over to greet her.
Jas had good intentions. He'd been next to Adrian during those two bizarre phone calls and had "unfortunately" heard everything. His original plan was to smooth things over, hoping to ease the strange tension that had suddenly developed between them and set the stage for a proper conversation.
However, as soon as he got out, he saw Christine hurriedly getting out of her car with her bag, wearing an unusual expression of anxiety as she rushed toward the Maybach's back seat.
Christine opened the car door, looking for Adrian.
…Instead, she found Thomas sprawled across the back seat, fast asleep.
He'd been running around with Adrian lately, helping deal with Oliver's situation. Now here he was, long legs stretched out, sleeping soundly with his headphones hanging crooked around his neck, nearly drooling.
The winter wind rushed in as the door opened, jolting Thomas awake. He automatically sat up straight, cleared his throat, and after taking two seconds to register who it was, announced with gusto, "Good morning, Miss Christine!"
Christine: "..."
The words she'd been about to say died in her throat.
She looked up at the other car. Daniel was stepping out of the Cadillac, giving her a knowing nod to indicate that the boss was over there.
Jas sighed helplessly - trust Daniel, the office gossip king, to imdiately understand what Miss Christine was looking for.
Christine thus walked to the Cadillac, clutching her bag. Daniel had just stepped out, and the passenger seat was covered with docunts full of numbers and annotations - clearly from a work report. Sensing the atmosphere, Daniel quickly gathered the papers and made himself scarce, retreating to Harrison's car.
The driver, being equally perceptive, gave Christine a quick acknowledging nod before leaving the vehicle.
Now, in the spacious Cadillac, only Adrian remained, with Christine standing outside.
She looked at him. He sat in the back, sliding a pen across a stack of reports, showing no intention of acknowledging her presence.
He wore his usual suit, jacket removed, in a crisp white shirt buttoned ticulously. Despite the winter cold, the car felt like spring. The shirt hugged his muscular arms, and his long fingers held the pen, making notes on the report, while his other hand held the papers, his knuckles distinct and elegant.
His profile faced Christine, chin slightly lifted, his sharp jawline casting a shadow. They say a man's focused expression is particularly alluring.
Once everyone had left, Christine slid into the car, sat down, faced Adrian, and said directly: "You lied to ."
After she spoke, only the sound of his pen scratching against paper filled the car.
"Click."
Adrian put down his pen and looked up from his docunts, his eyes narrowing dangerously, emanating an undeniable air of authority.
His steel-gray eyes reflected Christine's defiant face.
In his mory, she rarely showed such an expression - when facing him, her face usually displayed fear, pleading, terror, or pleasure-induced delirium.
Not like now: her eyebrows furrowed, biting her lip, as if demanding an explanation.
He put down the docunts, his voice as sharp as the howling winter wind outside, carrying an irresistible dominance.
"I gave you three chances to leave. You chose to stay."
"..."
Christine was struck speechless.
His aning was clear... he had given her chances to avoid getting entangled with him.
Looking back now, even Jas had been trying to signal her with his eyes to leave the office, to run while she could.
So, had she misjudged his intentions after all?
And he was actually aning sothing well?
Christine felt like Adrian's logic was leading her in circles, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong. Frustrated, she could only repeat:
"But... why didn't you just tell ..."
Her mind was a ss with anger, fixated on why Adrian hadn't told her - she had co to him when she was completely desperate, at her lowest point, and he had deliberately kept her in the dark, mocking her.
Everything he did seed calculated, as if he'd been certain all along that she would co to him.
He'd done it on purpose, toying with her.
He wanted to watch her debase herself, sell her body.
After a mont, Christine took a deep breath. She didn't want to dwell on this anymore - what's said was said, and regardless, Adrian had gotten Oliver out of trouble. The outco was good, and she couldn't be more grateful. As for being degraded by Adrian... well, she hadn't lost anything tangible.
Now, there were more important matters.
She turned away, reaching for the door handle: "My parents made lots of food. They're waiting for you… Let's go."
Just as her hand touched the handle, a large hand reached from behind, grabbing her neck and roughly pulling her back. The gesture was too familiar - it was Adrian's warning sign of anger. Christine instinctively shrank away, struggling fearfully to escape, but he dragged her more forcefully in front of him, forcing her chin up to face him.
"Are you blaming ?"
As soon as he spoke, he saw tears spilling from Christine's eyes like a broken dam.
"...Yes."
Christine hadn't expected to break down so pathetically. Her eyes burned red with confusion and hurt, and large teardrops fell one by one down her cheeks the mont she opened her mouth.
"I do bla you."
Forced to look up at him, she cried shalessly while eting his eyes, her voice growing more distraught and broken: "You... you could have just told ... Why, why didn't you say anything? And you called ... called a whore..."
Actually, she wasn't wrong to bla him.
He had deliberately called her a "charitable whore."
Partly because he was angry that she'd tried to bargain with her body.
And partly because he was angry that... she understood him too well: Christine was right, he did want her body.
But he hadn't expected those words would hurt her so deeply.
Adrian stared at the woman whose face he held in his grip. She faced him, her whole body shaking with sobs, crying inconsolably, her beautiful face drenched in streams of tears.
He reached into his suit's inner pocket and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe her tears.
But Christine didn't accept his gesture - instead, she struggled and jerked her face away, refusing his touch, biting her lip with a look of desperate defiance.
"Christine Blackwood!"
Adrian's temper instantly flared.
His voice was deep and hot, like a volcano ready to erupt.
Christine instantly stopped struggling, terrified by his tone, but continued crying silently with downcast eyes.
Adrian forced her face back toward him, staring at her.
At that mont, besides anger, there were other emotions he couldn't quite describe burning inside him, churning like they might burst out of his body.
"Stop crying."
The man's words were harsh and commanding, matching his rough movents as he raised the gray handkerchief to wipe her tears again.
His touch was crude, stiff, and painful, as if a threatening.
As he wiped her face, the golden cufflinks she had given him caught the light, glinting.
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