Chapter 10 Chapter 10

Grace didn't care about Benjamin's sarcastic remarks. After enduring such humiliation, she found these words to be trivial.

She pressed her hand against the doorframe and stared at him coldly, showing no intention of letting him in.

Benjamin chuckled and reached out to push her aside. He strode straight into the room. Glancing back to see if she had followed, he asked with a light smile, "Ms. Catherine, I think we'd be better off talking behind closed doors. What do you think?”

She didn't answer. He could see her take a deep breath before pressing her lips together and closing the door.

He relished seeing her be reluctant yet forced to suppress her feelings. Smiling, he took her in from head to toe, his gaze lingering over her face, neck, chest, waist, and hips. She was dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and light blue jeans, leaving only her face and hands exposed.

He knew exactly why she dressed this way, and he felt pleased.

But to Grace, his gaze felt utterly vulgar, especially after he deliberately left marks on her body yesterday. Silently urging herself not to provoke this scumbag, she suppressed her disgust and asked him, "What brings Mr. Norman here?"

"To see you." He scanned the room, his gaze lingering briefly on the television, which was playing a famous romantic film—one that even he had heard of. Turning back, he leaned against the vanity and chuckled. "Who would've thought, you'd still have the inclination to watch romantic movies?"

Grace hadn't been watching TV; it was merely on to drown out the noise.

"What do you think I should do, then?" she scoffed, countering his question. "Go kill myself?"

He smiled, ignoring the insolence in her words, and changed the subject. "You only took three days off. Is that enough?"

His question caught her off guard; she didn't understand its meaning.

His gaze lingered suggestively on her chest before drifting away. The corners of his lips curled slightly as he slowly explained, "I don't think the marks on your body will fade in just three days. Once that stuff leaves a trace, it takes at least a week to heal. How are you going to fool your husband after three days? Hmm?”

"Find another excuse to keep lying." Grace replied, her expression calm, bordering on indifference. "Does that answer satisfy you?"

Her nonchalant demeanor irritated him. Benjamin's lips flattened briefly before curling into a cold smile. "What if you got another set of marks? Would you keep lying forever and never see your husband again?"

Grace was on the verge of losing her temper. She couldn't fathom what this jerk was trying to achieve nor how to respond. Showing weakness or pleading wouldn't work, and being harsh or defiant was equally futile. Maintaining a calm, restrained demeanor failed to satisfy him, too. She couldn't help but ask, "Another round? Will you take charge yourself, or will your men do it? Mr. Norman, don't you find it tedious to play the same game over and over?"

He didn't speak, but his lips tightened slowly, and coldness settled into his eyes.

Grace knew that provoking him was wrong, yet seeing him like this still gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. Still, she dared not say more, merely pursing her lips slightly and lowering her gaze in silence.

The room fell silent, broken only by the sound of the television. Neither of them spoke. Just then, a phone rang from beneath the bed. Grace was startled and nearly jumped up from the floor. She hadn't told anyone about the out-of-state number she had just purchased. Who could be calling it?

A flicker of surprise crossed Benjamin's face as he looked up at Grace. Seeing the panic on her face, he raised an eyebrow and asked, "How did your phone end up under the bed?"

She could only force herself to stay calm at this point and replied casually, "I must have dropped it on the floor when I was changing clothes earlier and kicked it under there."

"Oh?" Benjamin narrowed his eyes slightly. "Then hurry up and get it out. You'll miss the call if you don't."

Now that he was suspicious, she had to retrieve the phone in front of him. Gritting her teeth, Grace moved toward the bed, silently praying that she wouldn't get the call and that Benjamin wouldn't notice anything unusual about her phone. After all, it was the same model she used.

She walked over, knelt on the carpet, and reached her arm under the bed, fumbling around for the phone.

Kneeling by the bed with her hips tilted and her waist arched, her full curves and slender waist revealed by the riding black sweater that exposed a strip of smooth, pale skin. Already captivating, her skin bore a distinct purple mark—the finger imprint he’d left during their passionate encounter the night before.

He felt as if he'd been bewitched, unconsciously moving behind her.

The carpet was soft. Completely absorbed in her phone, Grace hadn't heard a sound. It was only when she reached for her phone that she suddenly realized someone was behind her. Startled, she sprang up instinctively, and the back of her head slammed hard into his chin with a thud.

The blow was hard. Caught off guard, he grunted and stumbled back two steps before regaining his balance. He reached up to touch his chin. She cried out, too, as her body lurched forward and sent her tumbling onto the edge of the bed. Unable to get up immediately, she shielded her head with her hands and looked back at him, tears welling in her eyes.

They glared at each other, the atmosphere growing strangely tense.

The phone finally stopped ringing. Snapping back to reality, Grace decided to press her advantage. In a desperate gamble, she threw the phone at Benjamin and snapped, "If you want to look, just look! Don't sneak up behind me like a thief."

He snatched the phone, but didn't glance at the screen. His gaze remained fixed on her.

At first, Grace had only been nervous that he would notice the phone's flaw. But gradually, she sensed something off in his gaze—a lust so thick it nearly overflowed and was impossible to ignore. Startled, she hurriedly stood up and took a few steps backward toward the window. She watched him warily and snapped, "Benjamin, grow up! Stop always thinking about taking revenge on women physically!"

Benjamin’s expression shifted slightly. He gave her ambiguous glances before lowering his eyelids. When he looked up again, the desire in his eyes had been replaced by coldness. He tugged at the corner of his lips and sneered, "Grace, do you really think you're Aphrodite?"

With that, he tossed the phone back to her and turned to leave.

Grace froze. Only when his footsteps faded down the corridor did she snap back to reality. She hurried to lock the door, then ran back to turn off her new phone. Finally, she collapsed onto the bed and exhaled a long breath.

Outside the hotel, Michael was surprised to see Benjamin emerge so quickly. He hurried down to open the car door for him and greeted him, saying, "Mr. Norman."

Benjamin's face was dark as he got into the car without saying a word. "Drive."

Michael started the engine and stole a glance at Benjamin's expression through the rearview mirror. Seeing the lingering anger on his face, Michael asked, "Mr. Norman, has that woman been up to her old tricks again?"

Benjamin didn't respond. After a moment, he ordered, "Have Isabella send over the most beautiful woman.”

Isabella was the top procuress at his club, Garma, and she commanded an army of beauties.

She drove the woman to Benjamin's apartment in person. Downstairs, she solemnly advised the woman, "This is the first time Mr. Norman has ever requested a woman from me. It's a rare opportunity. If you serve him well, you'll be in high favor, and I'll reap the benefits too.”

The woman giggled, her voice sweet and playful. "Oh, Isabella, you're making me nervous!"

"Nervous? Good. The more nervous you are, the better. Make him so nervous that he can't pull it off!" Isabella reached out and gave the woman a light pat on the cheek to encourage her. "Go! I'll be waiting in the car. I hope you can make me wait all night!"

Just as she was about to leave, the woman asked, "Isabella, you still haven't told me what kind of woman Mr. Norman likes!"

This question stumped Isabella. "Honestly, I have no idea. For years, Mr. Norman wasn't interested in women at all. Who knows what he's into? You'll have to figure it out yourself. Start off low-key, then gradually turn up the heat. It's best if you can strike up a conversation with him.”

Unexpectedly, Isabella misjudged the situation. As soon as the door opened, Benjamin, wearing a bathrobe, gave the beauty outside a cold look that made her uneasy. Finally, he said, "Go take a shower."

Not a single line of her carefully prepared script was used. Overwhelmed by his icy demeanor, she obediently entered the bathroom. She washed quickly and emerged.

The man, handsome yet cold and ruthless, sat on the sofa. She approached him cautiously, her voice trembling slightly. "Mr. Norman..."

He lifted his eyes to appraise her coldly. He rose silently and pulled her toward the bed. He pressed her down and forced her to kneel in a position that satisfied him.

The woman quickly complied, rocking her body back and forth. She was focused on pleasing the brutal man behind her, desperate for his satisfaction.

But Benjamin remained utterly unsatisfied. The inexplicable lust pent up inside him refused to release no matter how wildly or brutally he moved.

The woman before him was indeed beautiful, with a stunning figure. Yet he wasn't satisfied. He felt her waist wasn't slender enough and that her hips weren't soft or pert enough. She wasn't like Grace; she wasn't as good as Grace.

The woman before him gasped dramatically and turned her head to look at him.

"Don’t look at me!" he growled, gripping her nape and slamming her face hard against the mattress. Still unsatisfied, he yanked the bedsheet over her head and pulled it tight.

But this still wasn't her. She wouldn't submit so easily. She would struggle and fight back fiercely, clawing and biting like a wildcat—just like last night when, even after he came inside her, she sank her teeth into his lips.

Isabella's car waited below. She'd hoped to linger all night, but barely half a pack of cigarettes later, the woman emerged from the building in a panic.

The woman flung open the door and plopped into the seat. Before Isabella could ask anything, she began, her voice trembling with tears: "Isabella, Mr. Norman is a pervert."

Isabella was stunned and quickly scanned the surroundings before hissing in a hushed voice, "Are you out of your mind?"

The woman was crying, trembling as she recounted what had happened upstairs. Still shaken, she added, "I was terrified he'd choke me to death again or smother me with the sheets. He wouldn't let me turn around or show my face. He wouldn't let me make a sound. He just fucked me, nearly snapping my waist. He didn't even seem to come. After over ten minutes, he asked me to get out."

Even Isabella, who was a procuress, had never witnessed anything like this. Unsure how to proceed, she pondered for a while before calling Michael. "What the hell is going on? What did my girl do to upset Mr. Norman? Drop me a hint."

As Benjamin's bodyguard, Michael lived in the same apartment building. He had just witnessed the woman leave in tears. He'd been puzzling over it when Isabella's call gave him a rough idea of what had happened.

He hung up, hesitated for a long moment, and finally got up to knock on Benjamin's door.

Benjamin had already showered again and was now flipping through a magazine on the sofa.

Michael peered in cautiously and asked, "Mr. Norman, was that woman not to your liking? How about finding you another married woman?"

Benjamin glared at him. "Get lost."