Shalma Hughes was so shaken by the sudden oppressive aura that she subconsciously took a step back.
Although she loathed to admit it, she really couldn’t read the man standing before her.
“If your Miss Laura knew you’d been my mistress for half a year instead of my girlfriend, what do you think she would say?” Julian Winslow lifted his index finger under Shalma’s delicate little chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
He refused to let her hide from him.
Anyone else could fear him, but she was the sole exception.
Shalma froze.
She never expected him to drop a line like that, much less utter something so threatening.
“Mr.
Winslow, that’s not very nice.
I’m just a delicate little lady.
Are you trying to threaten me?” As she spoke, her soft, boneless hands took the initiative to tug at the man’s tie.
Her lip-glossed, cherry-red lips pouted in feigned grievance.
“Then let me take you home, delicate little lady,” Julian said, his eyes darkening.
He didn’t stop her hands from toying with his tie, simply playing along with her words.
Shalma knew there was no escaping him this time, so she dropped the coy act.
“If you insist on taking me home, Mr.
Winslow, I have no objections.
I’m just afraid of delaying your business!”
“There is no business more important than you right now,” he murmured, leaning close to her ear.
Shalma offered a charming smile.
“Alright then, you can take me home.”
“Wait here.
I’ll go get the car.”
With that, he stared at the woman before him.
Seeing her slight shiver, he frowned.
He took off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
Shalma was slightly dazed by his sudden gesture.
It wasn’t until his distinct scent filled her nose that she snapped out of it, only to realize he had already left to fetch the car.
In a daze, she remembered that there was once another person who had taken off his jacket, draped it over her, and told her, “Careful not to catch a cold.” But later, one day, she had pushed open an unclosed door, and the sight inside had plunged her straight into hell.
He had said, “Shalma!
I’m sorry.
She’s pregnant with my child.
Let’s break up!”
When Julian drove out of the Serenity Tower garage, the headlights swept over Shalma.
She was staring blankly into space, a flash of unprecedented pain in her eyes.
His elegant brows furrowed, and he honked the horn.
Startled by the sound, Shalma snapped out of her memories.
She pulled his jacket tighter around herself and prepared to step forward.
She felt a pang of embarrassment; any random part on this car was probably worth as much as her entire beat-up little vehicle.
Seeing her standing there without moving, Julian honked again.
Upon hearing the second sound, Shalma finally walked over.
As soon as she reached the car, the passenger door opened automatically.
This was the second time she was riding in a car he drove himself.
The first time was in Eldoria, but she hadn’t sat in the passenger seat then.
She noted his calm expression and the faint smile playing on his lips, though his eyes seemed to harbor a profound depth she couldn’t read.
They seemed to say, “The dignified Mr.
Winslow is willing to act as your driver, and you still don’t appreciate it?”
After a brief hesitation, Shalma got into the car.
A luxury car was a luxury car—the moment she sat inside, the interior felt incredibly spacious.
Once settled, Shalma took off his jacket.
Just as she was about to fasten her seatbelt, a hand stopped her.
She looked over with eyes full of confusion.
“I’ll do it,” he said softly.
Shalma wanted to politely decline.
After all, how could she have the nerve to let Mr.
Winslow handle such a trivial thing as buckling a seatbelt?
But the hand restraining her was too strong.
Just like that time in Eldoria, it felt as if he could crush her hand into pieces.
He appeared to be a gentle and elegant gentleman, yet his strength rivaled that of a trained martial artist.
She had experienced his dominance deeply when they were in bed together; he would never stop until he made her beg for mercy.
Therefore, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to break free, but rather that she simply couldn’t.
Julian leaned forward, his chest hovering just above Shalma’s.
His cool breath brushed past her as he gracefully pulled the seatbelt across.
Just as a blush threatened to spread across Shalma’s face, he swiftly clicked it into place.
Because of his gesture, Shalma felt that the relationship between them was becoming increasingly blurred.
Were they lovers?
Boyfriend and girlfriend?
Business partners?
Or something else entirely?
The car started, gleaming like a black diamond, and quickly disappeared into the night.
Instead, she lived alone in an apartment at Azure Gardens in Aethelgard.
The apartment wasn’t large, only eighty square meters.
Housing prices in Aethelgard were outrageously expensive, and she had only managed to pay off the mortgage a few months ago.
When a Maybach—one of only a few in the entire world—parked at the entrance of Azure Gardens, Shalma clearly noticed the many gazes turning their way.
Those eyes were filled with awe and envy.
“Thanks, Mr.
Winslow,” Shalma said with a playful smile, her eyes glinting mischievously.
“Aren’t you going to invite me up for a bit?” he asked just as Shalma was about to open the door.
“Uh…
let’s do it another day.
It’s getting a bit late,” Shalma replied with an awkward smile, trying to turn him down.
Julian elegantly raised his hand and glanced at his watch.
“Eight fifty isn’t late.
It’s not even nine yet.”
“Mr.
Winslow…
it’s a bit messy inside, and you’re a neat freak,” Shalma said, feeling somewhat helpless.
“Are you afraid I’m going to eat you?” he countered.
Shalma really wanted to retort, “It’s not like I haven’t been eaten before!” But how could she dare?
What if he unleashed his inner beast right here in the car?
She knew she shouldn’t provoke a man, especially an overly dangerous one like him.
In the end, Shalma compromised and led Julian up to her private apartment.
Just as she had warned, the apartment was indeed a mess.
Her clothes were piled up on the sofa, and various magazines were scattered across the coffee table in complete disarray.
Seeing the pile of clothes on the sofa, Shalma hurriedly ran over to sweep them aside, clearing out a spot.
She smiled at Julian.
“Have a seat!
Do you want something to drink?
Tea or coffee?”
Julian gave it a passing glance, walked over, and sat down.
Instead of answering her, he casually picked up a magazine from the coffee table and began flipping through it.
Printed in massive letters on the covers of those magazines were titles like, “How to Capture a Man’s Heart?”, “How to Make a Man Fall for You?”, “What Kind of Woman Makes a Man Fall in Love at First Sight?”, and so on.
Since Julian hadn’t specified what he wanted to drink, Shalma poured a glass of plain water from the kitchen.
When she came out, she caught him staring intently at the magazines on the coffee table…