Did you miss me?

She didn't even notice how John reacted to her words. The man's gaze deepened, a cold glint flickering in his eyes.

Grace Quinn felt a twinge of fear. Now that she knew his identity, he seemed so lofty and powerful.

What she had said was undoubtedly dancing on his last nerve. But Grace had no other choice.

She had to keep a clear distance from this man to keep her job.

Just when she felt uncertain, John suddenly released his hold on her waist. The pressure lifted, and the cool air rushed in, making Grace sigh of relief.

With a serious expression, his eyes locked onto Grace's face as he said, "Then I'll be expecting you, Ms. Quinn."

John turned, casually slinging his coat over his shoulder, striding toward her with long, confident steps.

He stopped directly in front of her, then raised a hand to caress her delicate cheek. A hint of danger flickered in his eyes as he said, "Ms. Quinn, it's not so easy to satisfy me. I'm really looking forward to your performance."

His fingertips were scorching hot, and their rough texture scraped against her cheek, sending a jolt of awareness through her.

She could sense that John was angry.

Even though she had sent Alex Hoffman away, it felt like she had landed herself in an even bigger mess.

The next day, Grace was preoccupied with these thoughts, her troubled state worrying her friend Amy.

As night fell, the stars twinkled in the sky, and one by one, the campus lights flickered out. It was already half past eight when Grace finally left school.

The school behind her was eerily quiet, and in the distance, the lights dimmed. Standing in the dark, she felt particularly alone.

Just as she got into her car and was about to start it, her phone screen lit up with a message from Mr. Quinn.

"Hello."

"Alex Hoffman is about to get engaged to your sister. Please respect yourself and stop pestering him." With that, Mr Quinn hung up.

How ridiculous. She had thought the man who was her father was calling to check on her, but it turned out it was still about his legitimate daughter.

As an illegitimate child, she meant nothing to him.

Grace tightened her grip on the steering wheel, the pain in her heart making it hard to breathe.

Her gaze fell on the contact with the name [Father of Jimmy] on Whatsapp.

His avatar depicted a dagger plunged into the earth. In the night, the blade glistened coldly, hinting at how sharp the buried part must be.

Just like him, domineering and fierce.

She had assumed that after their conversation yesterday, he would reach out today.

The last message in their chat was when she declared the game was over. Scrolling up, most of the previous texts were room numbers or brief exchanges like "I'm here," which felt insignificant.

There was no small talk; their interactions were more distant than casual acquaintances, yet they had shared the most intimate moments.

Grace had never been curious about his identity, so she hadn't cared about his life.

Perhaps it was her sadness driving her to find something to ease her emotions.

She was hesitating to send a message to John, then she tapped on an emoji accidentally.

Grace's face turned beet red with embarrassment, and she quickly deleted it from the message box, trying to pretend nothing happened.

Just then, the phone rang, and a message popped up on the screen.

Glancing at it from the corner of her eye, she saw:

[Ms. Quinn, I saw it.]

Her face flushed even darker. There was no way to explain this.

Deciding not to reply, she started up the car.

The lights came on, revealing a figure standing in the beam.

The dim yellow glow outlined a tall, slender silhouette with broad shoulders and a narrow waist.

This figure was too familiar.

Before she could make out the person's face, he waved his lit-up phone at her.

Grace: "..."

It was John Amster.

This was the pinnacle of embarrassment!

He blocked her escape route, shattering her hopes of getting away.

As he strode over with long strides, she could only lock the car door.

"Tap-tap."

She looked out through the window to see John Amster bending two fingers and gently tapping the glass. The next moment, he held up his phone.

The screen was in landscape mode, displaying a line of words flashing in the memo:

[What do you want to see? Open the door, and I'll show you.]

At that moment, Grace's cheeks were so hot they felt like they were on fire. 

She curled her toes, wishing she could dig a hole and hide.

Seeing her hesitation to open the door, he changed his approach.

[Sweetie, open the door and let me in.]

It was an ordinary sentence, but Grace couldn't help but recall what had happened before.

During that month, she'd invited him several times, but her messages had disappeared without a trace, receiving no response.

She thought he was tired of their relationship and was about to delete him from her contacts, and then she was jolted awake by a voice call at 3am that day.

His voice was tired yet magnetic from the other side: "Come down."

"I'm in the garage downstairs your house."

Without a second thought, Grace slipped into her nightgown and headed down.

From a distance, she saw an off-road vehicle parked in a dark corner. The man's muscular arm rested on the lowered car window.

A scarlet cigarette butt flickered in the dark. When he saw her approach, he extinguished it.

The vehicle had been specially modified, looking even bigger than a Range Rover. Covered in mud, it seemed to have rushed there in a hurry, just like its owner.

The car door opened, and before she could say anything, he pulled her into his arms with a grip like iron.

"Ka-da." The door locked.

In the dim garage, the light was low, and the temperature rose.

Grace's delicate body pressed against his solid chest. He wore a black shirt, a few buttons undone at the collar, giving him a dissipated and wild look.

His handsome face, partially hidden in the shadows, was sharp and striking. He clasped Grace's chin with his long fingers, his voice hoarse: "Did you miss me?"

Automatically, she attributed this "miss" to something more intimate. Blushing, she softly replied, "Yes, I did."

Originally, she had sought him for precisely this kind of connection, so she didn't hide her desire.

He let out a low laugh, his voice magnetically hoarse as if he had been drinking, utterly captivating.

It made Grace's heart flutter. His gaze lingered on her nightgown.

Having rushed down without a coat, she realized there was nothing underneath. The thin silk fabric, as delicate as a cicada's wing, barely concealed her curves. The heat of his gaze made her body temperature soar, sending tingling sensations coursing through her.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against her neck.

"Don't..."