He slowly wiped the tea from his face, his thin lips slightly lifted, surprisingly still smiling: "Look at you, with such a bad temper, besides me, who else can indulge you like this?"
"Maxwell Saxon, how can you be so shameless." She raised her hand and slapped fiercely at his shameful face.
As soon as her hand fell, he caught it.
He gently held her hand, and with a slight force, she fell entirely into his embrace.
His burning arms wrapped around her waist, his cool and domineering aura suddenly approached, his cold fingers clamped her jaw, and his clean, elegant face magnified before her eyes.
"Let go of me, Maxwell Saxon, let go of me!" Scarlett Yates panicked, struggling desperately in his arms.
Once again, she saw in his eyes that possession so intense it could burn everything.
That night in Darknight City, it was after he showed that look that he lost his mind and dragged her into that pitch-black resting room where fingers couldn't be seen.
Scarlett felt fear.
