No More You
But Marcus , the golden son of the Zellwegers , wasn’t used to being told what to do, especially not when it came to Shantal.
Slamming his spoon onto the table, he stood up, face twisted with defiance. “Why should I apologize to that rude, ”
He didn’t finish.
Shantal moved without hesitation, her fork jabbing hard against his lips, pressing with enough force to make them split and bleed. Marcus froze, eyes wide with shock, his hand flying to his mouth.
The sharp pain made him forget how to breathe, let alone speak.
Shantal’s voice was low, cold as ice. “If you can’t speak properly, don’t speak at all.”