“Don’t mistake me for Jeff, your lowlife ex-boyfriend,” Michael stated simply, standing less than three feet away from her, towering over her in such a way that made her feel so very small as she looked up at him.
“He’s not my ex,” Jean stated, but her voice was barely above a whisper.
Michael ignored her completely as he continued.
“Believe me, if I wanted to see a woman naked, I have numerous ways of going about it, none of which involve planting hidden cameras in wardrobes to spy on them.” He finished with a cocky grin.
“Jeff might do that, but I don’t.” Jean’s hatred for Michael flared, and she wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid grin off his face with a slap.
“He doesn’t.” Jean retorted, but once more, her voice came out barely loud.
“Jeff isn’t anything like that.” She said in a firmer voice.
“Oh, but he is,” Michael argued calmly, taking another step forward.
Jean was suddenly assaulted by the sweet smell of vanilla that seemed to follow Michael wherever he went, mixed with aftershave and his usual expensive perfume.
His icy blue eyes seemed to sparkle under the light from above, and Jean felt her heartbeat falter.
A faint blush started to creep up Jean’s face, and she forced herself to look away from Michael and instead rested her eyes on a green dress that was to her right, against the wall.
Michael straightened himself, standing at his full height.
“I don’t get what you see in him, that delinquent.” “He’s a much better man than you ever will be.” Jean spat, looking back up at him; her anger had been reignited.
Whatever childish fantasy she’d been having about Michael was wiped away.
All that remained as she looked at him was anger and hate.
He didn’t even know Jeff.
How dare he insult him?
Jean raged.
Michael smiled down at her.
“And why do you think that?” “Jeff would never force a girl into marrying him just to satisfy his dirty desires,” Jean stated, unafraid; she was emboldened by the great urge to protect her boyfriend… her fiancé now.
Jean sneaked a look at her hand, at the ring that sat on her finger, and her heart warmed.
“Not even if the said girl stole from him?” Michael asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Jean felt stupid as she answered: “No, not even then.” She could tell that Michael had her right where he wanted her, as an evil, triumphant smile started to form on his face.
Whatever trap he had set for her, she had fallen straight into it.
“You’re right, he might not force a girl into marriage as punishment, but I think that’s only because he’s too poor to afford anything that a woman would want to steal,” Michael stated matter-of-factly, and Jean turned red with rage, but Michael wasn’t finished.
“But he’ll definitely force a girl into doing other things.” He paused to smirk at her.
“Things much worse than marriage.
Prostitution, for example.” “How dare you.” Jean snarled through gritted teeth, and on reflex, her right hand shot out to hit Michael across the face, but he was much faster than her and caught her wrist before she could reach him.
With his hold on her wrist, Michael leaned towards Jean, craning his neck so that they were on eye level.
Jean could see his eyes turn ice cold and the smirk had disappeared from his face, but for some reason, Jean wasn’t afraid.
She was just as angry as he was as she stared him back.
“I don’t think you should be doing that,” Michael spoke softly, and the smell of his minty breath hit Jean.
With a strength she did not know she had, Jean yanked her hand away from Michael, and the action caused the rope of her bathrobe to come undone, making it split down the middle, revealing her breast and thigh to Michael.
For a long second, nobody moved.
Michael’s eyes travelled the length of Jean’s body, causing Jean’s cheeks to flush as his eyes rested on her thighs.
Appalled, Jean yanked the robe together over herself.
Michael gave a sly smile as he reached out and grabbed the rope of the bathrobe from Jean.
Without so much as touching her skin, he pulled the robe tighter around her before tying the rope properly at her waist.
Michael took a step back, seemingly unaware of Jean’s racing heart and her inability to speak.
“Be a good girl and dress nicely.
I’m taking you to see my mom.” He said plainly and was out of the room, leaving Jean to her thundering heart and confused mind.