"What did you say?" The aura around Isidore darkened by eight degrees in an instant.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that Eloise had never heard him speak with such venomous malice. If she were his enemy or subordinate, she'd probably have wet herself in fear. She wasn't, but it was close enough to that feeling.
There was no way to take back her words now, no matter how much she regretted them. She quickly turned her head, pretending everything was fine, and pointed outside the window, her voice trembling, "Oh, look! How did a cat in a red spaghetti strap run by?"
The next second, Isidore pinched her chin, turning her face toward him. Her round, startled eyes were wide with fear, and her cheeks puffed up in protest.
Her chin hurt so much, it felt like her bones might break. Eloise grimaced. Isidore, seeing her misfortune, loosened his grip slightly, but the pressure emanating from his body remained as intense as ever.
He leaned in, his high, sharp nose almost touching her nose, his breath icy cold. "Which action were you going to do for Quintus, huh? Explain clearly." Eloise couldn't move her chin, but she still tried to shake her head as if it were a rattle drum, "N-no, I didn't!"
She gritted her teeth and added, "It's all just me showing my true feelings for you, sincere emotions, yes! You!" She stressed the last two words, thinking to herself that someone who knew the situation wouldn't be foolish enough to miss the point.
Isidore saw the fear clearly in her large eyes, and a sense of frustration stirred within him. He tossed her chin aside and leaned back against the seat, his sharp, handsome face stiffened into an icy, unreadable expression.
There were many people who threw themselves at him, but he had never acted so clingy, especially not with such a silly, sly little girl. If one called her cute, well, cats were cute too. If one called her beautiful, she wasn't exactly a stunner.
The key point was, after getting close to her for so long, she only threw him a token bit of sweetness, yet her true love was still not him! Anyone solving this puzzle would write down the three words, "Not worth it."
From the night she called someone else's name in bed, she no longer deserved his attention. Yet, when she asked a single question, he automatically appeared. After exchanging harsh words, he watched her walk away with Quintus, but still couldn't resist sending someone to follow her, pulling her back to him.
Seeing the video of her "flirting" with Quintus made him so angry his reason nearly flew out the window. Telling her to perform was, in fact, an act of humiliation driven by his rage—although, compared to how he usually dealt with others, it was a lot more gentle, but it was still a form of punishment.
He never expected that, in the end, he would be the one punished. As he thought about how those moves might have been designed for Quintus, he gritted his teeth. At the same time, just watching her twist those two little movements made him hard—his mind screamed in frustration—damn, this is so worthless!
To be honest, he was disgusted by himself in this pathetic state. Eloise's words were right; he was indeed being "self-deceiving." So, while his rage remained, upon reflection, it all seemed rather pointless.
Eloise rubbed her chin, cautiously studying his expression. Then, she cautiously glanced at his waist, making sure there was nothing suspiciously protruding. Thankfully, it seemed he hadn't brought his gun with him today.
She quietly reached out to pull the car door handle, speaking in a polite and conciliatory tone, "We're almost at my place, and that stretch is pretty jammed. It'd be better if I didn't trouble you; I'll just walk back on my own." It was only about five, six, maybe even ten kilometers—certainly better than staying here.
The car door was locked. Eloise shook it a couple of times, but Isidore made no move to open it. Her back grew colder. Anxiously, she turned around, a trace of bitterness in her eyes: What on earth are you up to now?
Isidore didn't look at her. It was only after meeting her that he truly understood what it meant to be frustrated beyond measure—angry, yet unable to actually do anything to her.
Few people could truly make him angry. Those who did were either shot dead or had their limbs removed. And yet, neither of these methods could be used on her. As a result, his frustration forced him to lower himself to her level, resorting to responses that were beneath him.
Isidore's chest surged with anger, a cold laugh escaping his lips as he said the most childish thing: "Did you register your body for copyright protection with Quintus? Acting like that, he can get hard, but I can't?"
Eloise was stunned, her lips twitching. She sincerely took his hand and placed it over her chest, saying, "If you can get hard, it's my honor!"
The words sounded quite nice, but under his sunglasses, Isidore's eyelid flicked in an unfriendly motion. To his surprise, he saw her close her eyes, pouting her red, puffed-up lips and leaning in.
His pupils dilated as he felt the soft touch of her lips on his. For the first time in his life, he was pinned back against the car seat, kissed. The sweet fragrance of Eloise enveloped his senses, filling his nose with her scent.
Eloise's thoughts were: I'll do whatever it takes to shift his attention!
And kissing him was the only solution she could come up with in this situation with limited options. She prayed that he wouldn't be so angry as to interrupt the kiss just to punish her. Ideally, the kiss would last long enough to make him forget about her slip-up.
She had no idea how effective this move was on Isidore. A gasp escaped between their lips, and two forces pressed her into his chest, while one large hand firmly gripped the back of her head.
