C18 It Was Itchy!?

I was so terrified I nearly let out a scream. If not for the voice of reason warning me to keep quiet, Dahlia and the neighbors would've been rudely awakened by now.

In a sudden surge of fear, I instinctively clung to his neck with both hands, hissing angrily, "Let me go! Put me down! Can you hear me?"

He clearly wasn't listening to a word I said.

He yanked open my door and strode purposefully toward the neighbor's house.

His strength took me by surprise. Despite being bundled up like a teddy bear, he carried me effortlessly, without so much as a pant.

When my feet finally touched down, it was onto the sofa in the next-door living room. The toss left me reeling.

The interior, identical to ours, was brightly lit. The soft green couch and cream-colored furniture clashed with his imposing presence.

Wesley shrugged off his coat and suit jacket, tossing them casually onto the armchair across the room.

He then plopped down next to me, the thin, crisp white shirt he wore doing little to mask the alcohol-laced depth in his eyes, which lacked their usual piercing chill.

Yet, it was this very calm, unfathomable depth that was truly disconcerting.

I didn't want to be this close to him. Pushing myself up from the sofa, I felt utterly disheveled in my bulky clothes.

He watched me intently. "I'm not known for my patience. Don't keep me waiting again," he warned.

I scoffed internally. The nerve of him to complain, as if anyone had invited him to wait in the dead of night.

"What's the deal with this Xu fellow?" he asked, picking up a cigarette from the coffee table, lighting it, and drawing in a deep breath. His eyes narrowed, regaining that dangerous edge.

I bristled at the intrusion into my personal life, frowning in disdain. "Does Director Haineville always keep such a close watch? Does he interrogate every client his employees meet with?"

Without warning, he flicked the cigarette aside and rose to his feet.

Before I could react, he yanked me by the collar, pulling me toward him.

My knees buckled.

Thud.

I found myself kneeling before him, the carpet doing little to cushion the blow. Pain shot through me, and I couldn't help but spit out, "Is bullying women your idea of fun?"

His expression was icy and somber as he kept a firm grip on my collar, pulling my face close to his. "Have you been with someone before?"

I thought I had grown accustomed to humiliation.

Yet, when he posed that question, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of shame and rage.

Fury coursed through me, and I fixed him with a fierce glare, my teeth clenched so tightly they ached. "You're insane!" I spat.

"How many times?" His grip tightened further.

Struggling to breathe, I clawed at his lean wrist, his steel watch painfully scraping my fingers.

"Answer me!" he roared.

My chest was ablaze with anger, nearly driving me mad.

This maniac, he's nothing but a damn lunatic!

I couldn't pry his fingers loose, and instead, he tugged at my clothes with his other hand.

"So you're really hooked, huh? Can't even wait a little while? Why don't you come to me, it's easier the second time around," he sneered, his words growing more lewd and his fury mounting.

Unable to break free, I shut my eyes, feigning indifference to his base remarks.

"Look at me!" he commanded, his voice harsh.

He flicked my eyelid with his thumb, forcing me to open my eyes to avoid the pain.

Up close, I saw only the tumultuous anger on his chiseled face.

Despite my resistance, fear was what truly filled my heart.

He was intimidating on a normal day, let alone now, drunk and in a blind rage.

He was like a despot.

I feared that one wrong move could cost me my life tonight.

His hand had already moved from my shirt, reaching downward.

"Can't resist, can you? Hmm?" His voice was deceptively soothing, but the words he uttered were vile beyond measure.

Then, with a sudden force of his fingers, I felt a sharp pain.

"Ahh!" The scream escaped me, beyond my control.

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