Chapter 5

The cold rain mixed with Edward's dominant cedar scent completely enveloped Cecilia.

She was roughly shoved into the Maybach's back seat, the soft leather unable to cushion the force. The door closed, cutting off Samuel's worried face outside.

Edward slid into the driver's seat, removing his soaked suit jacket and carelessly tossing it onto the passenger seat. He rolled his shirtsleeves to his forearms, revealing smooth, powerful wrists.

"Don't dirty my car," he said, his voice glacial.

Without looking at her, he tossed a soft cashmere blanket into the back seat. It landed unceremoniously on her head.

She pulled it off, but before she could speak, hot air blasted from the vents, instantly warming her cold limbs.

Cecilia froze. This Edward—speaking the cruelest words while doing the most thoughtful things. His contradictory behavior made her chest tighten, twisted with an emotion she couldn't identify as either sourness or bitterness.

She wrapped the blanket tightly around herself. The warmth gradually penetrated her skin, chasing away the cold but not the discomfort in her heart.

"About Mr. Hughes," she felt she needed to explain to avoid unnecessary trouble, "I was just sheltering from the rain, and he happened to be going my way..."

Edward glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his look openly scornful. "Going your way to my house?"

His tone was hostile. "Cecilia, you certainly have a way with men. From Winston to this lawyer—who's next? The head of Summit's security team?"

He mentioned Winston again. Cecilia's heart took a sharp stab. Winston was her deepest scar, yet Edward casually used him to mock her supposed promiscuity.

She clutched the blanket tighter and took a deep breath. "I'm telling the truth."

"Oh?" Edward let out a derisive snort. "Then what's the lie? Mrs. Clifford, please enlighten me—what 'innocent relationship' could you possibly have in another man's car in the middle of the night?"

Cecilia suddenly felt exhausted. In his eyes, she was just a woman who'd do anything for money. No matter how she explained, he'd stubbornly believe she was impure.

Or perhaps he simply didn't care about the truth—only whether his authority as the "buyer" had been challenged.

She'd tried to maintain her dignity, forgetting there was no dignity to speak of between them.

The car fell into silence again, broken only by the rhythmic swish of windshield wipers.

Edward watched Cecilia through the rearview mirror. She sat hunched in the corner, head down, her long hair hiding her face, exposing only a small, pale chin. She looked both docile and pitiful.

She had no response to his accusations—just playing the victim. His irritation didn't subside; it only burned stronger.

"Why so quiet?" he asked coldly. "Run out of words? Or thinking up your next lie?"

Cecilia slowly raised her head, looking through the dim light at those sharp eyes in the mirror.

"You're right, Mr. Clifford," her voice was soft but clear. "I shouldn't have tried to explain."

Edward's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. What did she mean? Was she admitting it?

Cecilia turned toward the window, her tone as flat as if discussing something unrelated to herself. "He's a good man. We... used to be together."

The air inside the car seemed to freeze in that instant.

Edward's profile tensed as he slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched against the pavement.

Cecilia lurched forward from the momentum, saved only by her seatbelt.

The Maybach stopped abruptly on the empty main road of the residential area.

Edward unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face her. His eyes burned like ghostly fires in the darkness, making her instinctively straighten her back.

"Say that again." Each word was coated with ice.

Cecilia's heart pounded wildly, but her face maintained that stubborn calm. Meeting his gaze, she repeated slowly: "I said, we used to be together. Does that conflict with our agreement?"

She even added provocatively: "The agreement doesn't forbid me from having dated in the past, does it?"

"Very good." Edward stared at her for several seconds.

He leaned over, one hand braced on the seat beside her, the other gripping her chin. His fingertips were rough, pressing so hard they might crush her bones.

"You like him?" he asked, his voice filled with undisguised disgust. "That gentle, self-righteous hypocrite?"

Forced to look up, Cecilia clearly saw the fury churning in his eyes. The small satisfaction of revenge quickly gave way to fear.

But she couldn't back down now. Gritting her teeth, she forced out: "None of your business."

"None of my business?"

Edward stared into her eyes, his grip suddenly tightening. The pain made her instinctively part her lips, and Edward's face rushed toward hers.

Like an enraged beast, he bit and consumed, venting his anger and possessiveness in the most primitive way.

Cecilia nearly suffocated under his kiss, her mouth filling with the taste of blood.

Only when tears welled in her eyes from pain did Edward finally release her.

Breathing heavily, desire and rage mingled in his dark eyes. His thumb brushed over his own lip where she had bitten him, looking at the bright red on his fingertip. The savagery in his eyes intensified.

"Cecilia, remember this: from the moment you signed that agreement, your body, your heart, all your past and future—they belong to me."

Dropping those words, he returned to the driver's seat and silently drove back to the mansion.

The car stopped at the entrance.

Before Cecilia could recover from that bloody kiss, the driver's door opened. Edward came around to her side, yanked open the door, and dragged her out.

Cecilia stumbled behind him as he pulled her into the brightly lit, luxurious prison.

Edward dragged Cecilia into the living room and flung her toward the sofa.

He towered over her, his wet shirt outlining the defined muscles beneath. Those eyes that had burned with fire in the darkness now contained only glacial cold.

"Go clean yourself up."

Cecilia kept her eyes down, watching water spread from her body onto the polished marble floor, forming a small, miserable puddle.

She said nothing, turning silently toward the guest bathroom upstairs.

As warm water poured over her, Samuel's kind face and Edward's furious one alternated in her mind.

One was a shield she'd invented on the spot; the other was her husband in name, her creditor, the controlling party in this absurd transaction.

In Edward's eyes, she was probably just a product that wouldn't stay in its place—barely labeled as his, yet already eager to be tainted by another man's presence.

Footsteps sounded outside the bathroom door.

Cecilia's heart instantly jumped to her throat.