“What?
You—you—”
Vera Blackwell was so furious it felt like needles were drilling into her skull.
Her vision went dark, and she nearly dropped on the spot.
“Mom?
Mom, what’s wrong with you?
Someone, quick!” Stella Blackwell and Tiffany Ashford instantly fell into chaos, both raising their voices and calling for a doctor.
“Nina Blackwell!” Ethan Blackwell’s handsome face turned terrifyingly grim, a savage chill flashing in his deep-set eyes.
Nina lifted her chin, her face full of mockery.
“Did I say anything wrong?”
Even at her lowest, no one had ever come at her for her looks.
That alone proved how stunning she was.
And yet Ethan Blackwell had managed to keep his hands off a young, beautiful wife for three whole years after marriage.
If that wasn’t a problem, then what was?
“You!” The veins on Ethan Blackwell’s forehead bulged hard.
If it had been anyone else talking to him like that, he would’ve crushed them without blinking.
But staring at Nina’s stubborn little face, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Mom, you’re awake?
You seriously scared us just now…”
Tiffany Ashford had pinched Vera Blackwell’s philtrum so hard for quite a while before finally bringing her around.
She’d already been waiting for Vera to wake up and tear Nina apart.
But the moment Ethan saw his mother had recovered, he grabbed Nina by the wrist.
“Come with me.”
Nina wasn’t going anywhere.
With one clean twist of her wrist, she slipped free of his hold.
Unexpectedly, Ethan caught her again.
Then he mouthed two words at her: Ambrose Harlow.
In three years of marriage, the only thing Nina had ever asked of him was this—find her brother Ambrose Harlow’s body and bury him properly beside her adoptive parents.
Ethan hadn’t forgotten.
He had been investigating all along.
Progress was just too slow, so he hadn’t brought it up again.
He didn’t want to give her hope, only to let her down all over again.
The deaths of her adoptive family were the deepest wound in her heart.
And now, that wound had become the very “knife” he used to threaten her.
The presidential guard cleared everyone out of the cemetery office.
Ethan dragged Nina inside.
The wooden office door slammed shut with a bang.
Nina Blackwell spun around at once and blurted out, “What did you find?
Where is my brother’s body—”
Before she could finish, the furious man in front of her suddenly clamped a hand around her throat.
Ethan Blackwell drove her straight back against the door, his eyes sharp and dark, burning with something almost bloodthirsty—rage, heat, desire, all tangled together.
“You said I can’t?”
Nina had already opened her mouth, ready to fire back without holding anything in, but the next second, his lips crashed down and sealed hers hard.
That kiss hit like a summer storm—fast, rough, brutal.
It came down all at once, as if he wanted to drown her completely in a single breath.
And Nina, caught in it, felt like a butterfly that had flown straight into a web by mistake.
The more she struggled, the tighter she was wrapped in his overwhelming, domineering presence.
Her mind started going fuzzy from lack of air.
She was actually about to suffocate.
Then, all of a sudden, he fed her a breath.
While his tongue kept tangling with her lips and teeth, he let out a low, mocking laugh.
“You?
And you still had the nerve to say that about me?”
With kissing skills this painfully rookie—couldn’t even switch breaths right—and she still dared to accuse him of not being able to do it?
Nina was so angry her chest was about to explode.
That had just been her first kiss.
And this man?
He already had a child with his mistress.
She lifted her hand and swung straight at the jerk’s face, but Ethan had clearly seen it coming.
He caught her wrist in one move.
“Let go!” she snapped, so mad she wanted to kick him too, but her whole body was pinned tight between him and the door.
No room to move at all.
His long, powerful fingers slowly pried open her clenched fist, then slipped between her fingers and locked their hands together.
Then, with blatant force, he twisted her hand behind her back and hauled her fully into his arms.
The faint sweet scent on her drifted into his nose.
Almost instinctively, he took a deeper breath—only then realizing that his wife, when held this close, was this soft, this warm, this ridiculously addictive.
He looked down at her beautiful almond-shaped eyes, emotion flickering in his gaze.
“Hit me?
You can bear to do that?”
“Let go of me!” She tipped her face up at him, looking fierce on the surface, but her voice carried a bright, dangerous kind of charm that hooked people before they noticed.
Ethan gave another low chuckle.
He licked his sexy thin lips, still looking unsatisfied.
“Tastes amazing.
I haven’t had enough.
So no, I’m not letting go.”
Nina was so mad she wanted to curse him out again, but before she could, Ethan launched another round.
“Relax.”
This time, he was much gentler.
He softly took her lower lip between his lips, his tongue moving with practiced ease, patiently teasing through all her stiffness and inexperience.
He tried to show her how to answer a husband’s kiss, but the fiery little woman suddenly bit down hard.
The taste of blood spread in his mouth.
Ethan Blackwell’s brows tightened for a second, yet instead of backing off, he kissed her even more intently.
Then Nina Blackwell bit him again.
This time she was way harsher.
His lip split right open.
He had no choice but to stop.
He lifted a thumb and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, half annoyed, half helpless.
“You really love biting people, huh?
What are you, a puppy?”
There was a trace of indulgence in his tone, soft enough that even he didn’t notice it himself.
But Nina Blackwell only felt sick to her stomach.
She stared at him, disgust written all over her face.
“You already got Tiffany Ashford pregnant, so why are you still acting like some lovestruck good guy in front of me?”