A soft female body pressed against Ann Vaughn in her embrace, and her arms were tightly clinging to Ann Vaughn’s shoulders, desperately sticking and rubbing against her. Ann Vaughn was suddenly dumbfounded. Was she... being molested by a woman?! "Mr. Hawthorne..." The woman nestled in Ann Vaughn’s arms spoke softly, "I suddenly feel a bit unwell. Can I borrow your room to rest for a while?" So it turns out to be a misplaced rotten cherry blossom. "Princess Astrid, could you please get off me?" Ann Vaughn twitched her lips, speaking out of unbearable frustration. The woman who kept rubbing her foot against Ann Vaughn’s thigh suddenly stiffened, springing back several steps like she had been shocked, staring at her. "Who are you? Why are you in Mr. Hawthorne’s room?!" Astrid’s face flushed, ignoring the jacket slipping off her shoulder, as she sharply questioned Ann Vaughn. Ann Vaughn glanced up and down at Astrid’s outfit—a sexy bikini with a thin jacket draped over her, shoulders half-revealed, indeed quite enticing. No wonder she dared to throw herself at Cyrus Hawthorne’s doorstep. Ann Vaughn squinted unhappily, "Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Coming to my fiancé’s door wearing a bikini in the middle of the night, what are you trying to do?" Astrid gritted her teeth, "Did you get Mr. Hawthorne’s consent to call him your fiancé?" That day at the shooting range, when The Black Rose kissed Mr. Hawthorne, there were no repercussions from him. Astrid took the risk of trying to seduce Cyrus Hawthorne with her beauty. But who knew it would all be ruined by this woman who came out of nowhere! "I warn you, stay away from Mr. Hawthorne!" Astrid stepped forward a few steps, forcefully poking Ann Vaughn’s shoulder with her finger, eyes determined, "You’re no match for me, you’d better be smart." Ann Vaughn raised her hand and grabbed her finger, then twisted it with force— The scream of pain echoed throughout the corridor. Ann Vaughn’s slender fingers closed, slightly tilting her head, leaning closer to Astrid’s ear, her red lips curling into a smile, "Sorry, he’s mine." With that, Ann Vaughn shoved Astrid away, swaggered back into the room. Astrid staggered back several steps, leaned painfully against the wall, not daring to move the finger that had been twisted, gasping for breath. Having been pampered since childhood, Astrid couldn’t bear such pain, her teeth trembling. She glared hatefully at the closed door, endured the pain, and left. She would never let that woman off! The door quietly opened, and an elegant figure slipped inside from the outside. He carried with him the chill of frost and the faint, salty sea breeze. He walked inside as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. Just as he unbuttoned halfway, a shadow suddenly leaped onto him in the darkness. Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes narrowed, his palm steadily supporting her body, he lightly reprimanded, "Don’t cry about the pain if you fall." Ann Vaughn didn’t answer him, clinging to him like an octopus, she explored him in the dark and kissed his sexy, throbbing Adam’s apple. The man froze briefly, in the dim light, his cool eyes suddenly roiled with dark waves, making his profound and imposing features even more striking. Yet Ann Vaughn couldn’t see nor realize it. She was like a stubborn little beast, her pale teeth nibbling marks on the man’s Adam’s apple, clavicle, shoulder line, and even his chest. Her slightly damp red lips relentlessly stoked the flames on him. Cyrus Hawthorne’s Adam’s apple rolled slowly twice, his grip on her fragrant shoulder gradually tightened. Normally, a single, gentle kiss from Ann Vaughn would be enough to drive him madly out of control. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novel•fire.net Let alone now when she’s intentionally seducing him, like a spark on a gasoline-soaked prairie, igniting an unstoppable blaze of passion. His long eyes’ corners reddened slightly due to restraint, his lips pressed into a line, and when Ann Vaughn attempted to unbutton his shirt, he grasped her wrist and carried her back into the bedroom in that position. The bedroom was lit with wall lamps, unlike the dim light in the living room. Thus, Cyrus Hawthorne could clearly see Ann Vaughn’s current appearance— Bathed in soft light, she wore a strapless black dress, cinched at the waist, accentuating her slender waist barely graspable, and below her porcelain white legs wrapped in lace stockings, alluringly seductive. Her hair adorned with cat ears, her curled dark hair lazily draping over her fragrant shoulders, her lightly made-up face radiant and seductive, flushed with spring, even her eye corners tinted with allure. She looked like a lazy cat, full of charm. Cyrus Hawthorne’s heavy breathing paused for a moment, his narrowed eyes flickered with layers of dark waves nearly spilling out, with even a hint of crimson in their depths. "Ann Vaughn." His voice hoarse and low, grinding and tingling in one’s ears, "Do you want my life?" "Don’t you like it?" Ann Vaughn wrapped her arms around his neck, her bright eyes radiating laughter. As she moved, the long tail behind her lifted, unintentionally brushing against Cyrus Hawthorne’s side. The deep tides in the man’s eyes surged, he grasped her wrist and pinned her beneath him, ruthlessly kissing her tender lips. Ann Vaughn whimpered in pain, her brows slightly furrowed, only to spread out quickly, adding a touch of joy. As the exchange of wet sounds became uncontrollable— Ann Vaughn reached her hand to press against Cyrus Hawthorne’s chest, momentarily halting him, her watery eyes filled with mischievous laughter. "Almost forgot, my period just started, feels awful now, you better take care of yourself." The turbulent waves stirred in Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes stalled for seconds due to her words, the lustful color on his face slightly faded. He stared directly at the woman’s face trying to contain a gleeful expression, voice raspy, "...You did it on purpose." No wonder she was so proactive and enthusiastic today, like a little wild cat igniting fire on him. Turns out she was fearless... Ann Vaughn felt a bit timid in front of Cyrus Hawthorne’s suddenly darkened gaze, but recalling Astrid’s scene, she straightened up. "Who said that, I didn’t, don’t say nonsense!" "Didn’t?" Cyrus Hawthorne hoarsely repeated, his typically stern, aloof face revealing a hint of wickedness. He held Ann Vaughn’s little hand, gazing into her black narrow eyes filled with a lingering sheen, "Little girl, teasing and running, where’s the good call in that?" Ann Vaughn’s ears tingled at his "little girl," before she could reply, she was pulled close to him.