Chapter 64: With Anger

Seeing Nan Yao in the rearview mirror, so furious that she was hopping in place and her face was twisted with rage, Nan Zhi couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. Her jaw was delicately pointed, her face petite and lovely, her eyes clear and innocent, and her smile radiated a striking, almost breathtaking beauty.

But when he caught sight of her other cheek, red and swollen, Mu Sihan’s deep, dark eyes instantly chilled. With a sharp turn of the wheel and a sudden press on the brakes, the sports car screeched to a halt.

Nan Zhi, unprepared, was thrown forward, nearly hitting the window—only for a long, strong hand to reach out and steady her slender shoulder.

Meeting the man’s eyes—so deep and dark they seemed to hide fathomless secrets—Nan Zhi’s lips pressed nervously together. She’d been so distracted by Nan Yao that she’d forgotten about the real devil sitting beside her.

His handsome face was clouded, the line of his jaw taut, a cold glint flickering in his eyes. Nan Zhi’s skin prickled with unease, every hair standing on end.

Ever since that time he’d nearly strangled her, being alone with him always left her with a gnawing sense of dread she couldn’t control.

The confined space of the car was suffused with his scent—cool, with a faint undertone of cigars, saturated with a rich masculine presence.

He leaned toward her, tall and imposing, that scent enveloping her, forceful and intoxicating. Her thick lashes fluttered.

His gaze was dark, almost murderous, and Nan Zhi swallowed anxiously, trying to sound composed. “What is it?”

Mu Sihan lifted his elegant hand, brushing his fingers against her swollen cheek, his presence as ominous as a reaper from the underworld. “Who hit you?”

His look was as terrifying as if someone had dared strike his own woman.

Nan Zhi lowered her eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Shaking her head, she murmured, “It doesn’t matter. It’s already been dealt with.”

“I asked you—who hit you?” His voice was icy, edged with fury.

Nan Zhi shivered at his shout. “It’s really nothing!”

Mu Sihan reached out and jabbed her forehead hard. “You can’t even go to an interview without getting bullied. How useless can you be?”

Her forehead throbbed from the jab, but with him so furious, she dared not retort and simply fell silent.

He poked her again. “So you’re pretending to be mute now? So fierce with me, but how can you be so foolish outside?”

Nan Zhi rolled her eyes inwardly, replying to him in her mind: So what if I’m foolish—none of your damn business!

“Did you hit back?” he barked, even as his calloused fingers gently stroked her swollen cheek. “Even when I’m angry with you, I’ve never laid a hand on this face.”

Nan Zhi couldn’t help but retort, “You almost strangled me to death once—wasn’t that bullying?”

Her words doused half of his anger. Staring at her long, lowered lashes, he curled his lips in a wicked, roguish smile. “Woman, do you even know what real bullying is?”

When he smiled, only one corner of his mouth quirked up, and with that wild, striking face, he looked every inch the scoundrel.

Nan Zhi guessed at the meaning behind his words and was about to reply when he suddenly bent down, his sensual lips capturing hers before she could speak.

It was a kiss—forceful, domineering, allowing no room for protest.

Just like the man himself: arrogant, unrestrained, heedless of anyone else’s feelings.

Tears shimmered in Nan Zhi’s eyes as he kissed her. The car was already cramped, and when he pressed his tall body against her, there was nowhere for her to escape.

She could only endure the relentless crush of his lips.

His large hand gripped her slender waist, holding her so tightly he seemed to want to merge her into his very bones. When the kiss finally ended, he hooked a finger under her chin, his smile wild and dangerous. “One day, I’ll show you what it really means to be bullied.”

…