Get

"Wow, you still have the audacity to refer to yourself as Myers?" Theodore sneered, a sly smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His piercing gaze bore into her, though he made a conscious effort to conceal how deeply she affected him, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

"Didn't you use that name for me first? And now you have the nerve to question it?" Irene retorted, her voice laced with an undercurrent of frustration. She fought hard to suppress her fear, well aware that revealing her vulnerability would only plunge her into further chaos.

Her palms grew clammy, a telltale sign of her rising panic, a state she desperately wished to avoid.

"Is that so? Now you find your voice, huh?" Theodore sneered, his eyes fixating on her trembling hands. The sight elicited a smirk from him, fully aware of her mounting anxiety as she tried futilely to conceal it, a spectacle that only made him want to chuckle.

How could she possibly think she could hide her true emotions with such clumsy acts?

Did she believe he couldn't perceive them?

"Yeah, I did. How about you leave me be and get the hell out of here?" Irene's anxiety surged, her realisation growing that if she didn't remove this guy from her house soon, she would inevitably regret it.

She had a valid point; it was clearly unsafe to share a roof with this deranged individual. He exhibited an unmistakable level of madness, and Irene felt immense regret for allowing him into her home.

"That's not how we do things here, my dear Irene," Theodore said, his voice dripping with possessiveness as he raised his hand. Irene flinched, anticipating a slap, but instead, Theodore's hand gently cupped her cheek, his touch was surprisingly tender.

His gaze bore deeply into her brown eyes, confusion clouding his features. Why was she frightened by a mere movement of his hand? Did she truly believe he would harm her? The thought irked him, for he never laid a hand on a woman, no matter the circumstances.

"I..." Irene began, her voice trailing off as his icy hand pressed against her cheek, causing her entire body to feel as though it had turned to ice. His long fingers held her small, round right cheek with an almost reverent grip, as if it were the most precious thing in existence.

"What are you even thinking, Irene? He's just here, trying to touch you. That's not going to end well," her conscience screamed at her.

"Don't flinch. Speak when you're spoken to," Theodore possessively tightened his grip on her cheek.

Irene closed her eyes in pain, biting her lower lip to stifle any sound that might betray her agony caused by his actions.

Theodore revealed in the sight before him, taking pleasure in the visible fear etched on her face. He was intoxicated by the terror she harboured within her.

Her body, he noticed, was remarkably more appealing than her unattractive countenance. The flawless shape of her cleavage, somehow distinct in colour from the rest of her skin, drew his narrowed gaze.

Irene's eyes shot open, shock resonating through her as she heard his question. How did he know? How was this possible? Irene had always successfully concealed the makeup she used to mask her true appearance, never once being exposed in her entire life.

She scrutinised herself, realising that her dress today was far more revealing than what she normally wore to conceal her body. Due to the chaotic circumstances, neither she nor anyone else had noticed. It was an oversight she hadn't anticipated, and now she had to come up with a plan before her well-guarded secret was exposed. It hadn't even been a day since her marriage, yet she already felt on the verge of fainting if the truth she had concealed for years were to come to light. Who knew what the Jones family would do to her?

"What do you mean?" Irene's voice quivered, her tone low, as she attempted to squirm free from Theodore's grasp, determined to escape as soon as she could.

"Stop moving, Mrs. Myers," Theodore commanded, his hand tracing the visible, velvety softness of Irene's cleavage, which boasted a distinct pearly-white shade.

Theodore pondered the two-toned mystery before him. Why was her skin pearlescent white while her face remained unchanged? He hadn't noticed this disparity in the car, which only further perplexed him.

Theodore found amusement in his unconventional actions, revelling in the fact that Irene was the first woman he had touched in such a manner, yet he felt no repulsion or distaste.

The sound of "Mrs. Myers" sent a shiver down his spine, imbuing him with a sense of entitlement over her.

Theodore couldn't fathom why these thoughts plagued his mind, but he had no qualms entertaining them if they provided him with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

After all these years, he had stumbled upon something truly fascinating, and the impending punishment of his wife for slapping him promised to be a delight.

Irene ceased her struggles as commanded, blinking rapidly to dispel the discomfort caused by Theodore's fingers tracing her collarbone, an act that disgusted and disappointed her.

With no one else present in the house and no apparent escape route, Irene found herself at a loss. Theodore was a complete stranger, and he loomed over her with an intimidating presence. She couldn't bear to be assaulted again and again, haunted by the memories of what he had done in the car.

"Cyril, you're my brother-in-law. Theodore won't be pleased if he discovers you touching me like this," Irene said, attempting to intimidate Theodore with a dismissive glare.