CHAPTER 103: CHAPTER 103: ADRIAN GRANT PLAYING THE VICTIM

Eleanor Winslow’s reaction was somewhat intense, but it was within Adrian Grant’s expectations.

He stood in place for a while and asked, "Are you coming in?"

Eleanor maintained a cold face, "Adrian Grant, do you think I’m throwing a tantrum? Or do you think I can be manipulated by you at will?"

Adrian responded calmly, "I don’t think so."

He added, "Are you sure you want to stand outside the house and talk?"

With that brazen attitude, one might think the house belonged to him!

Eleanor was stuck at the doorstep for a few seconds and felt particularly stifled when she walked in.

Once inside, Eleanor noticed that the flowers in the vase had been replaced with fresh ones, bright yellow roses strikingly soft under the lighting.

She asked Adrian Grant, "Are those flowers you brought?"

Lately, her hand injury meant she couldn’t change them, though she planned to ask the housekeeper tomorrow to remove the wilted flowers. Someone had beat her to it.

Adrian had just replied with a "Hmm" when his phone suddenly rang, and he answered it.

The greeting "Hello" turned into a fluent French conversation, seemingly a long international call.

Eleanor went to her bedroom, checked that it hadn’t been disturbed, and breathed a sigh of relief.

She went to the kitchen, looked around, and opened the refrigerator. It was filled with fresh vegetables and fruits, rather than just a few boxes of yogurt.

A very vibrant atmosphere.

Eleanor wandered around until Adrian finished his phone call.

"Did you put the food in the fridge?"

Eleanor pointed to the kitchen, her serious demeanor was less about receiving food and more about receiving a bomb.

"Hmm."

"What are you trying to do?" Eleanor felt her question was unclear, "Adrian Grant, this is my home. You’re sending fruits and vegetables to my place. What are you aiming at? You should know, I don’t cook. Those things are useless."

"I know how." Adrian simply replied with two words.

The man had an elegant demeanor, his fingers were long and smooth, much like jade, and Eleanor was unresponsive for several seconds, then asked, "You cook?"

"Constantly ordering takeout or eating out, it’s not good." Adrian stated, "Eleanor, you know exactly how picky your taste is."

Eleanor indeed had a discerning palate and was choosy.

She not only had specific preferences but also fussed over how food was prepared.

Adrian used to say she was pampered, which was actually true. He had indeed taken good care of her during three years of marriage.

"I’ve experienced both good days and bad. I haven’t starved these months." Eleanor nearly let his topic sidetrack her, "Adrian Grant, my place is small and can’t accommodate someone as imposing as you, please go back to Azurean Bay!"

Adrian lazily leaned against the wall, looking like he was about to laugh: "Zia, based on your understanding of me, do you think I’d come here and leave easily?"

Before Eleanor could speak, Adrian continued, "You could also call the police and accuse me of trespassing."

Call the police?

She and he were still married, would calling the police be effective?

If it worked, she wouldn’t be here wasting so much time talking nonsense!

Adrian’s fearless demeanor infuriated Eleanor, making her grit her teeth.

"Whatever you want!"

Fuming, Eleanor stormed into her bedroom, wanting nothing more than to ignore the rascal outside.

Her apartment had only one bedroom, the other rooms were used for different purposes, with no guest room. Adrian didn’t even have a bed. If he wanted to stay, would he just sleep on the floor?

...Wait!

The guy had trespassed into her bedroom before!

Eleanor had just sat on the bed when she immediately stood back up.

After a few steps, she suddenly opened the door and stuck her head outside, yelling, "Adrian Grant, tonight you’re not allowed to enter my room!"

The man raised his eyebrows slightly, looking as if wronged.

Eleanor was angry, "Don’t think I don’t know you snuck into my room previously!"

"Ah."

Adrian not only didn’t deny it but looked regretful that she’d found out, not even bothering to cover it up.

With a "bam," Eleanor slammed the door shut.

Sitting on the bed, Eleanor took several deep breaths, growing more confused by the man’s actions.

What exactly does he want to do?

Though she’d played the role of Mrs. Grant well, Eleanor inwardly questioned if there weren’t other women in the wealthy circles who could play the role better than her, no reason for Adrian to cling to her.

He once said, back then, that he liked her body, for now...

At this point, Eleanor lowered her eyes and went into the bathroom.

Amidst the rhythmic sound of rain, the steam lingered, the mirror’s mist obscuring the woman’s face.

Half an hour later.

Eleanor dried her body, draped on a bathrobe, and exited the bathroom, opening the bedroom door.

The lights in the living room were on, but there was no one there.

Eleanor walked out and saw a bit of red on the dim balcony.

Adrian was smoking.

Smoke rings flowed from the man’s thin lips, slowly dispersing from a dense cloud, blurring his handsome face and obscuring the mood between his brows.

Adrian had his back to the room, but he noticed Eleanor’s presence almost instantly as she approached.

Adrian turned around and saw the woman standing under the light, beside the roses he’d brought and casually placed.

More alluring than the flowers, like a water lily emerging, this was Eleanor at her most captivating.

Adrian felt a slight sting on his fingers and realized it was ash that had fallen.

"Showered?" Adrian frowned, quickly walking over, "Your hand injury isn’t healed, how did you manage a bath?"

He rushed over, forgetting to put out the cigarette.

Eleanor was choked by several puffs of smoke: "Cough, cough, cough, cough!"

She continuously coughed.

Without an ashtray here, Adrian stubbed out the cigarette and tossed the stub into the trash, immediately coming to check Eleanor’s hands.

The bandage’s edge was slightly wet, but thankfully mostly dry.

"Just wiped off," Eleanor said directly, staring at him as she spoke.

Adrian was momentarily stunned, feeling his urge to smoke tickle again.

"Can’t sleep without a shower?" Adrian mocked, "So pampered and particular."

"No."

Before Eleanor could finish speaking, those moist fingertips suddenly grabbed Adrian’s shirt.

Adrian, mindful of her injured hands, didn’t dare exert force, and bent over following her grip.

Those warm, sweet lips suddenly kissed up without warning!

Adrian slightly widened his eyes, incredulous at Eleanor’s actions.

But his body was more truthful than his mind, first wrapping around the woman’s waist. Adrian lifted Eleanor’s legs higher, simultaneously moving onto the adjacent couch.

Eleanor straddled his waist and hips; this bold action was what Adrian liked.

The man cupped the back of her head with one hand, reversing roles with an intense kiss.

Eleanor let him lead until the fervent kiss left her breathless, and she uncontrollably wanted to push him away, but the man was the first to halt.

Eleanor gasped in small breaths, her lips slightly swollen, and her pretty apricot cheeks veiled in mist, enticingly.

Adrian raised his hand to cover Eleanor’s eyes, blocking her view.

"...Adrian Grant?" Eleanor puzzled.

Adrian had a hint of red in his eyes, his voice layered with desire and striking rationality.

"Zia, every time you take initiative, there’s something you want."

Under the man’s large hand, her beautiful nose and red lips still visible.

Eleanor Winslow said, "This time, I ask for nothing."

"The less you ask, the more you plot," Adrian Grant wasn’t falling for it.

Eleanor’s head, dizzy from their kiss, quickly cleared up.

She pried Adrian’s hand away and looked directly into his eyes.

Mere moments ago, they had been passionately kissing, but now, as they locked eyes, only extreme calmness and inquiry remained.

"Adrian Grant, I remember you once said you were quite satisfied with my body and you haven’t had enough of it, so you were unwilling to divorce."

The buttons on the man’s shirt were undone, and Eleanor’s fingertips brushed against his chest muscles, invoking a slight tickle.

"For you men, the unreachable is the white moonlight, the regretted is the cinnabar mole, and without regrets is just mosquito blood."

Eleanor now wanted to be mosquito blood.

The more Adrian listened, the uglier his expression became.

Yet Eleanor made no attempt to stop speaking, "Adrian Grant, if you really can’t let go, we can try once more."

As she spoke, her fingertips tugged at her robe, gently pulling apart the loosely tied belt.

Try it, maybe you don’t like this body that much after all.

For men, it’s nothing more than a desire for victory and something new.

"Eleanor!"

Adrian’s face turned cold as he pressed down on her hand.

His anger was so intense that he couldn’t control his strength, and the wound on her wrist shot through with intense pain, causing Eleanor to gasp.

"Hiss—"

Adrian moved his hand away like he’d touched an electric shock, wanting to check her injury, but Eleanor had truly angered him, and so he remained stern and immobile.

"Serves you right!" Adrian said coldly.

Unwilling to relent, Eleanor shifted her body slightly.

The man’s body stiffened, and Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

Before Eleanor could feel triumphant, Adrian’s hands grasped her waist, and with a swift movement, he placed her by his side.

His movements were so fast and sudden that Eleanor found herself in a different position, leaving her slightly stunned.

"Adrian Grant?"

The confusion in the woman’s eyes was so clear, like a crystal-clear spring.

She genuinely didn’t understand!

Adrian clenched his back teeth, saying coldly with a stern face, "Go back to your own room!"

"Isn’t it that you just want to sleep with me? I’m giving you a chance, and I’m willing too."

Under the warm light, the woman’s words sounded incredibly alluring, yet each word was laced with poison!

Adrian, exceedingly angry, responded with a mocking laugh.

"You think after I’ve had enough of you, I’ll divorce you? You think I’m not divorcing you just to sleep with you? Eleanor, I’m telling you again, go to your room and sleep!"

Ultimately, Eleanor was dragged and "thrown" back into the bedroom by him.

The bedroom door slammed shut with a bang.

Only this time, it was Adrian Grant who shut the door.

Eleanor lay on the bed, plunged into deep confusion.

If it had been before, she might have thought Adrian was unwilling to divorce because he wanted to torment her, to waste her time. Because then, she believed Adrian resented her for marrying him under "coercion."

But he said, three years ago, it was he who wanted to marry her.

No matter the reason, he shouldn’t resent her.

So why is that?

Eleanor vaguely had an unrealistic guess in her heart, but before she could grasp it, her subconscious buried it back down.

Because in her view, it was impossible.

Eleanor spent the entire night in a state between dream and wakefulness, Adrian Grant’s face repeatedly appearing in her mind.

After a night of torment, Eleanor listlessly got up.

Stepping out of the bedroom, she caught a whiff of fried eggs.

In the dining room, two attractively plated fried eggs were placed on a shallow dish on the table.

Adrian Grant walked out of the kitchen, carrying a bowl of spring noodles in each hand.

He gave Eleanor a glance and said nonchalantly, "Washed up? Come have breakfast."

"You, you made this?" Eleanor was astonished, dumbfounded.

"I conjured it out of thin air," Adrian said deliberately.

Eleanor stood still, glancing over to see signs of someone having slept on the sofa.

Adrian Grant getting up this early to make breakfast likely meant he spent the night on the sofa.

Young Master Grant was actually willing to sleep on the sofa?

Eleanor’s mouth opened slightly, restraining herself from mentioning it—for bringing it up would seem like expressing concern.

"I have an injured hand, so I won’t eat noodles." Eleanor didn’t want to eat the breakfast he made; it would make their relationship seem too intimate.

Adrian handed her a fork and spoon, saying, "Eleanor, eating this meal won’t change our relationship one bit, don’t be so childish, alright?"

Eleanor: "..."

The way he said it, as if her not eating would imply she minded!

Eleanor knew Adrian was doing it on purpose, but she had to admit, it worked.

During her time studying in the U.K., Eleanor got quite used to using a fork, and although eating noodles with it was a bit slower, it was still manageable.

Adrian ate quickly and watched her from across the table once he was done.

Eleanor’s ears turned slightly red, and she felt somewhat annoyed. The last time she saw someone using a fork to eat noodles, it was a child.

"How’s it taste?" Adrian asked after Eleanor had taken a few bites.

Eleanor glanced at him with wide-open eyes, not wanting to respond to him.

A few seconds later, remembering it was food made by him, she reluctantly said, "It’s alright. Young Master Grant won’t starve to death if the family goes bankrupt."

Adrian’s lips curled up slightly, a silent smile crossing his face.

It was as if last night’s dispute hadn’t happened, neither of them bringing it up again.

"How did you learn to cook?" Eleanor asked curiously.

"I learned while studying abroad," Adrian said as he placed the eggs into her bowl.

"Jonah also studied abroad, but he doesn’t know how to cook."

A fleeting, unreadable expression passed through Adrian’s eyes, gone before anyone could capture it.

He lowered his gaze, "He had my parents."

But he did not.

Mr. and Mrs. Grant always stayed by Jonah’s side, as if Adrian Grant didn’t exist.

Others envied Adrian for having Old Master Grant’s favor and preference, but really, what child doesn’t long for parental love?

Eleanor blinked and said nothing more.

She suddenly found Adrian a bit pitiful.

This moment of guilt made her miss the coldness in the man’s eyes.

Pitiful?

Longing for parental love?

Adrian Grant hadn’t hoped for these things since he was ten!

Since childhood, he knew some things weren’t his, that he couldn’t take them by force.

But—

Adrian looked up again.

The person before him was the only one he cherished and ultimately held in his hands!