I laughed, "Why not? It’s not like you haven’t been to my place before." He chuckled, "It means something different now." Indeed, it means something different. This is the first time I’ve invited him to my place since we became a couple. In a way, it’s an unspoken hint and consent. I glanced at him and murmured, almost inaudibly, "Come if you want." He smiled without saying a word and followed me out of the car to the entrance gate. In the elevator, neither of us spoke; when our hands accidentally touched, we immediately pulled back. When opening the door, he was right behind me, his warm breath brushing over the top of my head, causing a tingling sensation on that part of my scalp. Once inside, as soon as I put down my bag, he turned me around by my shoulders and kissed me. I knew he had been holding back this kiss all night, so when I suggested he come up, it was really a tacit understanding. We were very much in sync. I raised my arms around his neck, and he effortlessly picked me up, placing me on the shoe cabinet. We kissed from the hallway to the dining table, and from the dining table to the sofa. When his hand touched my chest, I was startled and came to my senses. He noticed my reaction and stopped everything, hovering above me. Our eyes locked; at that moment, I believed both of us were in an inner struggle. This rapidly intensifying passion felt like a fire burning us; we were both clearly eager yet somewhat uncertain. After a brief silence, he quietly fixed my clothes, and with a low, hoarse voice, said, "I’m sorry." I bit my lip, unsure how to respond, my eyes shyly avoiding his gaze. He stood up, looking uncomfortable, took a breath facing away from me, and stammered, "Uh... it’s late, you should rest, I’ll leave." I hadn’t yet calmed down, my mind buzzing, and instinctively replied to his words, "You’re leaving just like that? Aren’t you afraid someone will report you as a pervert?" He was taken aback, quickly grasped my meaning, and glanced down at himself. Then, I clearly saw his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red, like they were on fire. "Have some water," I felt like I was on fire too and quickly got up from the sofa to pour him a glass of water. When I turned back, I saw he had returned to the sofa, legs spread, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. This defensive posture effectively masked his embarrassment. "Here, drink water..." I handed the cup to him. He reached out to take the cup, our fingers touched, and I felt the damp sweat still lingering between his fingers. In this cold weather— I wondered how much self-control it took for him to hold back. Daniel Carter tilted his head back and drank the water; as I glanced at his Adam’s apple bobbing, I couldn’t help but swallow. Seeing him finish the glass, I was a bit baffled and asked, "Want another cup?" "No, thanks," he smiled with a shy look, "I’m not a water buffalo." "..." I was embarrassed. After a short silence, he quietly spoke again, "Uh... don’t wander around in front of me, go about your tasks, I’ll sit here for a bit and leave." I was slightly taken aback, what did he mean? He doesn’t want to see me? Perhaps noticing my misunderstanding, he cleared his throat and explained, "With you in front of me, I can’t calm down..." My mind exploded, and the heat on my face that had just subsided instantly returned with double intensity. I had no idea how to respond, so I turned and scurried away. Later, when he left, he didn’t come to find me; he just called out from the living room, "Lily, I’m leaving." I didn’t go out to see him off either, just yelled from my room, "Okay, got it!" It was quite a while after he left before I emerged from my room, gazing at the empty living room, as if from a god’s eye view, recalling the scenes of our intense connection. I’ve been with Adrian Gordon for so many years, and never had such a wildly passionate moment. But Daniel Carter, usually so proper and serious, so gentle, like a gentleman... When emotions reached an intense peak, he could be so passionate, like a completely different person. Truly, you can’t judge a book by its cover. During a meeting at work, my WeChat pinged. I picked it up and was surprised. [Lily, I’m on a business trip.] Ah? A sudden business trip? Thinking about the fiery moments we had last night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this business trip was a bit fishy. It felt eerily like a player disappearing after getting what they wanted. Feeling a huge gap inside, I asked directly: [Is this an escape?] [How could it be? It’s just an urgent business matter; I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.] Much later, one day while we lay on the sofa chatting, we inadvertently brought it up again. Mr. Carter finally admitted, "Yeah, at that time I was a bit... unsure how to face you. I was afraid you’d think I was a thug, just after that kind of thing with you..." I was surprised and sat up from his embrace, "Why would you think that? Given your status, wouldn’t it be easy for you to sleep with any woman you wanted?" He emphasized seriously, "I’m not that kind of person." "I know, it was just an analogy." "Anyway... I was afraid that if I didn’t go out, the next day I’d be unable to stop myself from going to your house again, and at that time... it wouldn’t just stop at the sofa. So I thought I’d go on a business trip to calm down for a few days, slow the pace down, give you more time to adapt." His words and actions moved me greatly, making me feel cherished and respected. Unfortunately, the outcome was completely contrary to his expectations. Because when he returned after three days, the accumulated longing once again easily overwhelmed his hard-won cooled passion and rebuilt self-control. The moment he saw me, there was a hungry and scorching look in his eyes, as if he wished to tackle me to the street. I, too, was in high spirits, and ran over to him, noticing Secretary Harris still by his side, suddenly understanding, "Did you come directly from the airport?" "Yeah." Daniel Carter nodded, "Thinking you’re getting off work soon, came to pick you up for dinner." He stared intently at me, and after speaking, turned to open the car door, "Hop in." Not seeing him for a few days, seeing him now, I found it hard to restrain myself. But with the driver and Secretary Harris accompanying, I guess he couldn’t do much either. After hesitating for two seconds, I said with a difficult expression, "Well... I have something tonight, Wennie has been sick for the past couple of days, I promised to go see her after work." Daniel Carter’s eyebrows and eyes twitched, staring at me, his gaze revealing a sense of abandonment and grievance. I became even more conflicted. But no matter how conflicted, I couldn’t prioritize romance over friendship. So I compromised, "I’ll go to Wennie’s place first, contact you later tonight?" "Alright..." He nodded, sighed, "Then I’ll head back to the office, there’s still some work to handle." "Okay." I nodded as well. Yet, we both stood where we were, he didn’t get into the car, nor did I turn away. I glanced at him again, realizing something, my cheeks heated, and I stepped forward to hug him. He immediately hugged me tightly, his face buried in my shoulder. "Alright now... Secretary Harris is watching, laughing at you." He held me tight, so I raised my chin high, joking. Only then did he let go of me, pinched my face, and turned to get in the car. I watched his car gradually leave, a smile still hanging on my lips, silently looking forward to seeing him again at night. Turning around, I prepared to head to the parking lot, unexpectedly lifting my gaze, seeing the person I least wanted to meet. He sat in a wheelchair, his secretary pushing him, approaching me. I froze in place, my expression darkened, quickly pondering his purpose for coming. The day after tomorrow, the case with Amanda Gordon is going to court. Surely he’s here for that. The sky was growing dark, the wind bleak. His expression was even gloomier than the weather. "Lily Miller, you really have no shame, the whole web is cursing you, yet you dare show off your love in public." The wheelchair stopped a couple of steps away, Adrian Gordon spoke, exceedingly malicious. But these days, I’ve heard countless words a hundred times more vicious than this, and long ceased to take them to heart. I let out a cold laugh, "What, inciting public opinion to curse me isn’t enough, you had to come curse me in person? Adrian Gordon, delayed passion is cheaper than dirt; do you realize how pitiful your entanglement is?" When it comes to sharp tongues, nowadays I’m unmatched across the web. Adrian Gordon’s face, which had held the moral high ground a moment ago, instantly turned dark and angry, faintly clenching his molars. Seeing him speechless, I continued my mockery, "Coming here to get cursed, ’cheap’ isn’t enough to describe you. Instead of wasting time being despicable, why not take good care of your health, strive to live a few more days." Having said this, I turned to leave without hesitation. With him, there was really nothing to say. But behind me came his raised tone. "Lily Miller, what exactly do I have to do for you to spare Amanda? You’ve already won everything; why push others to the brink?" Upon hearing these words, doubts clouded my mind, and I turned back in confusion to ask, "Since you’re asking me a favor, why did you stir up public opinion to attack me?" The two actions are completely contradictory. Adrian Gordon didn’t respond, simply repeated, "Just name your terms, I’ll meet them all." Seeing his obvious avoidance, I suddenly came to a realization! "You deliberately targeted me online to make me surrender, to voluntarily show weakness to you?" As a way to find a turning point in Amanda Gordon’s case? The result was, finding I didn’t yield, and even cursed the netizens into silence. Just in time for New Year’s Eve, Daniel Carter expressed his love loudly, using a drone comic strip to clarify the truth to the entire network. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel✶fire.net His scheme exposed, he had no choice but to come personally, lowering his stance. Understanding all this made me unable to suppress a cold laugh. Why is it when asking someone for help, one doesn’t start by lowering their stance and showing sincerity, but instead has to apply pressure first, and after realizing it’s ineffective, then humbly ask? Isn’t that just slapping oneself in the face? I rudely ridiculed, "Adrian Gordon, your problem isn’t your health, but your mind. You pushed me to this extent, and now come to beg me to spare your sister; do you find it laughable yourself?" Adrian Gordon clenched the wheelchair’s armrest tightly, pale and stiff in the cold wind. "Amanda is pregnant, carrying that bastard’s child, she wants to abort, suffering both physically and mentally... You’re a woman too; you should empathize with her pain and desperation right now; are you really going to drive her to death before you stop?"