As Charles—his physique rivaling that of a European supermodel—stepped into the bathtub spacious enough for two, Janet felt a sudden warmth spreading through her body. The chill that had gripped her before began to fade, replaced by a slow-burning heat.
"I know. I believe you," Charles said, his eyes burning with intensity as they fixed on her nervous little face. His Janet was always his. Only his.
"Charles..." Janet’s large eyes misted over with tears as she soaked in the certainty and trust reflected in his gaze. This man, soon to be her husband, believed her without condition. How could she not be moved?
"Are you still angry?" Janet carefully edged closer, their two naked bodies pressed together. For the first time, she truly understood what it meant to have her heart race—only the man she loved could make her feel this way. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding and yet longed to be even closer.
"I’m angry because you gave him the chance to trap you. Didn’t I warn you not to get near him again?" Charles’s hand slid under her, feeling her unusual wetness. He leaned down and buried himself deep inside her in one motion.
An indescribable warmth enveloped him, and with a punishing force, he thrust harder — not gentle, but fierce. She never listened to him, this foolish woman he loved and hated all at once.
"No, no, it’s not like that. Elvira tricked me... ugh..." Janet gasped softly from the sudden impact, her body finally released from its tension, low moans slipping from her lips, broken and hesitant. "She and Manfred..."
"You naive woman, don’t you have any suspicion of others?" Charles’s wildness softened with every movement, becoming gentle by the end. Yet he still couldn’t bear to hurt her.
He was just angry at her innocence. Manfred was cunning — she couldn’t fight him alone. From now on, he would keep her firmly by his side, so no other man could take advantage.
"Uh, sorry, Charles... mm..." Janet whispered softly in the throes of their special passion, her body moving with his rhythm as her mind listened to his words. Now she finally saw Manfred’s true nature — she should never have trusted him from the start!
"Don’t apologize to me, Janet. I didn’t protect you well enough!" His woman deserved dignity and pride. He wouldn’t allow her to bow so low to apologize. No one had the right — not even him.
Their bodies, closely entwined, stirred ripples through the clear water. After the passion, Janet’s body felt less tormented than before, but as clarity returned, shame crept in when she faced Charles.
"Still hurting?" Charles gently massaged her skin, his eyes darkening as he washed over the fresh kiss marks on her chest and neck with bath gel, cleansing away the traces of their intimate struggle.
"Much better. I’ll wash myself," Janet said calmly, rising to stand beneath the showerhead. She rinsed away the suds quietly, unwilling to lower her gaze. Perhaps it was shyness or something deeper — she felt their lovemaking was inappropriate under the circumstances. Charles, so proud a man, had humbled himself for her without a single harsh word, even blaming himself. With their wedding fast approaching, how would others see her? How would they see him? That thought filled her with guilt.
"What are you thinking about?" Charles suddenly appeared beside her. Janet heard his voice and, without turning, grabbed a towel to wrap around herself before stepping out, her face still damp — whether from water or tears, she couldn’t say.
"Janet, why are you crying?" Charles took one long stride forward, the other leg still in the tub, watching her strange reaction with a heavy heart.
"It’s my fault. I dragged you into this. And now I have to ask you to help me get the antidote. Charles, you’re so good to me—I feel like I don’t deserve you!" Janet hung her head low, avoiding his gaze. Just moments ago, she had been so wild beneath him; would he think she was cheap? But she couldn’t control herself...
"Woman, do you even know what you’re saying?" Charles suddenly pulled her close with one strong arm, yanking off the towel wrapped around her body. Without giving her a chance to turn around, he pushed her against the edge of the bathtub. Before she could react, he entered her from behind. The sudden fullness and sharpness startled Janet; the unfamiliar sensation sent a sting through her body, causing her delicate frame to tremble.
"Remember this feeling, okay?" Charles’s dark, intoxicating breath whispered in her ear as his body pressed tightly against hers. One hand roamed up to her full breasts, kneading them hard. He wanted to make her ache. She had dared to say those words to him—and all he felt was regret for not protecting her better, for letting his rage spill onto her. His anger just now had been possessive fury—he couldn’t stand anyone coveting her beauty. But now, she still belonged to him alone!
"The way I feel inside you—only I can give you this feeling, Janet. Everything about you is mine!" Charles seemed determined to prove his words. He thrust harder, and pain escaped from her lips in a sharp cry. But she truly felt the two extremes he gave her—pain and pleasure—only one Charles existed, and he wanted only one Janet!
"Mmm..." Feeling his desire clearly, Janet nodded with tears in her eyes. A soft response escaped her throat, swallowed immediately by his kiss. He gently realigned her body, his movements turning tender though he remained deep within her. That fullness, that stretching inside, stirred an indescribable satisfaction in both of them. Only when exhaustion crept over Janet, and she drifted toward sleep, did he finally wipe her dry and carry her back to bed.
Tomorrow, a storm was waiting for them—but he would never give up what he wanted.
"Don’t worry. Leave everything to me," Charles said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before lying down beside her. Hearing his promise, Janet’s tightly furrowed brow softened in relief.
Although Charles had already ordered Giles to suppress the photos from yesterday—those intimate shots taken at the hotel—Manfred was prepared. He still exploited the media’s entertainment power to publish suggestive pictures of him and Janet, stirring scandalous rumors.
"Future Mrs. Black Rock Co. CEO caught cheating: on the eve of her wedding, she seeks excitement, flagrantly meeting a man for a hotel rendezvous." The headline was clear, showing recognizable facial features of the protagonists, though cleverly omitting their names. Manfred’s devilish face needed no naming—everyone knew this was his doing.
Was this blatant provocation?