Chapter 137

As she came closer to him, who stood on the edge of the bed and she was on her knees, her head barely reaching his chest level, her breath turned uneven. She wanted to move away.

He held her arm, his grip not painfully tight yet strong enough to remind her of the imbalance between them, pushing her further closer to him. The pressure of his fingers was a brand, marking her as his in that moment. The sudden contact made her gasp softly, her fingers curling instinctively as if to steady herself. She could smell his cologne faintly, a scent that once felt familiar and safe, now twisted into something unsettling. The cologne had once meant comfort; now it meant captivity. Her eyes flickered up to his face and then away again, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze for long.

“I just want to tell you a story,” His words sounded almost casual, almost gentle, which frightened her more than anger ever could. Gentleness from him was the most dangerous weapon in his arsenal. Stor