CHAPTER 99: CHAPTER 99: ADRIAN GRANT, STOP! DON’T MAKE ME HATE YOU!

Blake Lockwood glanced from a distance. She couldn’t catch up with Adrian Grant and Eleanor Winslow anymore.

She looked at the person in front of her, with little patience, "What do you want?"

"Blake Lockwood, don’t you have any explanation?" Trevor Hawthorne asked.

"What do I have to explain?" Blake chuckled softly, "I caught you and Vivian Quinn in bed, and I didn’t ask you for an explanation. Do you have the nerve to ask me for one? Did I sleep with someone, or did I get knocked up by someone else?"

Trevor Hawthorne frowned, "Vivian Quinn and I have nothing going on."

Blake wore an expression of disbelief, "Nothing going on? Young Master Hawthorne, you’re quite something. You slept together, and she got pregnant with your child, and you call that nothing?"

The onlookers listening to the gossip were dumbfounded, and someone in the crowd couldn’t help but gasp.

Blake didn’t want to make a scene here, so she turned and walked away.

"Miss Lockwood, your coat!" The charming young male model hurried after Blake with her coat that was left on the sofa, eyes filled with anticipation like a puppy, "Miss Lockwood, there are plenty of men, and fresh ones are more fun! What do you think about me?"

Trevor Hawthorne stood nearby with a cold face, his gaze like a knife directed at the young male model.

But the young man, fearless like a newborn calf unafraid of a tiger, stood his ground and didn’t look at Trevor.

Blake crossed her arms and seriously sized up the young male model.

"Blake Lockwood!" Trevor chided sternly.

He was still standing in front of her, and she was about to pick a male model right in front of him?

Blake’s lips curled into a smile, and she beckoned the young male model to follow her with a gesture.

The young male model’s eyes lit up, almost pressing himself against Blake, but she blocked him with a finger, signaling him to keep some distance.

"Young Master Hawthorne, instead of wasting your time here, why not prepare the divorce papers?" Blake walked away with the model, her back unrestrained and devoid of attachment.

Trevor Hawthorne hadn’t married Blake Lockwood out of love.

He viewed marriage as a transaction, a task that had to be completed in life. He married Blake because she was pleasing to the eye and wouldn’t meddle in his life after marriage or have demands of her own.

For the past two years, Blake had indeed played the perfect Mrs. Hawthorne and given him ample freedom.

But why, in this moment, did he feel particularly... uncomfortable?

It was like a lamp he kept by his bedside every night had suddenly been moved.

Trevor Hawthorne was used to having control over his life and the people in it.

But now, Blake Lockwood was out of control!

"You can stop here!" At the parking lot, Blake handed some money to the model as a tip.

The young male model looked quite disappointed, "Miss Lockwood, what do you mean by this? Did I do something to upset you?"

Blake handed the car keys to the valet, turned to him, and said, "Solicitation is illegal, and I’m a law-abiding citizen."

-

"Let go of me! Adrian Grant, you bastard!"

Eleanor Winslow struggled all the way, but Adrian Grant’s strength was greater, and he held her firmly in place.

Charles Rhodes opened the car door.

Eleanor was angrily tossed into the back seat by the furious man, her body sinking into the chair.

Just as she was about to get up, the man had already entered the compartment, filling it instantly with a tense atmosphere.

With a "Bang," the car door was shut!

Adrian Grant tore away the mask of pretense, pressing down on Eleanor’s collarbone with one hand, his scorching palm almost scorching her cool skin.

"Adrian Grant!"

Eleanor tried to get up, but her hands wouldn’t cooperate, and now with the man’s hand pinning her down, she was completely immobilized, like a fish on a chopping block waiting to be butchered.

Charles, sitting in the driver’s seat, glanced at the rearview mirror without a word to say, raised the privacy divider, and became a silent driver.

"I’m here," Adrian replied, expressionless, his gaze locked onto the woman beneath him.

After a couple of seconds, he raised his other hand, his thumb slowly stroking Eleanor’s lips.

The action was incredibly suggestive, setting off alarm bells in Eleanor’s mind.

"Adrian Grant, let go! We’re already discussing divorce, and I’ll sue you for harassment!"

It was as if the man hadn’t heard her accusations, asking, "Did he kiss you?"

The voice was chillingly cold.

"What?" The seemingly random words left Eleanor confused.

Adrian’s gaze shifted from Eleanor’s red lips to her eyes, providing additional context, "That bloke."

— Did that bloke kiss you?

He actually suspected her of that?

Fury welled up inside Eleanor, "None of your business! Let go of me!"

"Did he?" Adrian’s face darkened.

Before Eleanor could react, the man’s kiss descended without warning.

A chaotic kiss.

Sucking.

So intense it was almost biting.

It was as if a wolf was marking its territory, depriving Eleanor of breath within seconds, her mouth aggressively invaded.

Initially, Eleanor had enough strength to ignore her injured hands, trying to hit him, push him away, but soon he had her hands restrained, unable to move.

Her body slowly lost all strength.

When breathing became so difficult that dizziness set in, only then did the man mercifully release her.

Eleanor’s mind was hazy from the lack of oxygen, staring at the man so close at hand. There was no satisfaction in his face, only cold scrutiny and a dominant desire.

"Zia, who kisses better, me or him?" Adrian asked in a hoarse voice, "Can he satisfy you?"

"Adrian Grant, you’re such a bastard!"

Eleanor glared at him, wanting to slap him, but both hands were held firmly.

Adrian kissed her slightly swollen lips again, obsessively asking, "Am I better?"

Eleanor, furious, blurted out nonsense, "I only kissed someone else, why are you so worked up? What if I said I slept with him?"

Adrian’s expression froze for several seconds.

Suddenly, his lips curled into a slow smile.

Yet there was no warmth in his eyes, only the chill of frozen ice.

"Zia," he caressed Eleanor’s cheek, "then I’ll have to make you—forget how he made you feel!"

Before the words were out, his hand was already sliding up Eleanor’s skirt.

Eleanor shivered all over.

"Adrian Grant! Are you out of your mind? We’re in a car! Stop it!"

"Haven’t you known since we were young, that I’m not a good person?"

"Adrian Grant! You’re always bullying me! You bastard!"

"Yes, I’m not Jonah Grant, how could I win your favor?"

Adrian’s hand didn’t stop.

The car had come to a stop at some point, and the scenery outside no longer passed by.

"Adrian Grant, stop!" Eleanor was utterly unable to fight back now, "Don’t make me hate you!"

"Hate me?" Adrian acted as if he heard something amusing, "Three years ago, when you were forced to marry me, didn’t you already hate me?"

Eleanor froze, staring at him in disbelief, "You, what did you say?"