Ivana Bennett laughed, laughed until she lost her balance, her body shaking with mirth even as she leaned against the table for support.
It was as if she had heard the funniest joke in the world.
After a while, she straightened up, caught her breath, "Please don't misunderstand, I just wanted to experience the difference between artificial and natural membranes."
Lucas Walker's eyebrow twitched uncontrollably, "Is there a difference?"
"How should I put it?" Ivana tilted her chin, feigning a thoughtful look. "Actually, there isn't much difference because both are... painful!"
Lucas Walker put down his cutlery, taking a napkin from the table to lightly wipe at a barely visible oil stain on his lips, as if waiting for her to continue.
Ivana shifted her gaze and looked at his face; the smile in her eyes suddenly cooled.
Then, she gripped the edge of the table with her hand and gave it a violent tremble.
With a light press of her toes against her slippers, she catapulted up like a cat.
The white tablecloth with embroidery fluttered up, the plates, saucers, glasses...
They all flew towards Lucas Walker. Sauce splashed from the plates, wine spilled from the glasses, colorful liquids danced in mid-air.
She jumped on the table, crossed the lengthy dinner table in two strides, and with a flick of her right hand, the tablecloth flew up, covering Lucas Walker.
Lucas Walker, evidently prepared, had already stood up and sidestepped the moment the tablecloth flew up.
Plates, saucers, glasses...
Sauce, wine...
All of it barely brushed past him, his shirt still as pristine white as snow, not stained by a single speck of dust.
Ivana, the corners of her lips lifting into a smirk.
With a light touch of her bare foot on the table, she flung herself at Lucas Walker.
All of this was just to distract him; she intentionally threw the tablecloth to the left and made him dodge to the right.
The fool, he fell right into her trap!
Lucas Walker had not reacted until it was too late.
A faint, delicate scent reached him, and then his balance shifted, and he fell to the ground.
Ivana bent her right wrist, and the dinner knife she held was pressed against his throat.
Rising from Lucas's body, she raised her left hand, flexed her fingers.
Then, she forcefully raised her hand and slapped Lucas Walker squarely on his handsome face.
That bastard! He'd torn her apart last night without any foreplay.
Now, she wanted Lucas Walker to taste the pain.
"Does it hurt?"
She shook her sore left hand, asking with a smiling face.
A slap, and blood trickled from the corner of Lucas Walker's mouth.
The wound on his lip where she'd bitten him the day before had scabbed over, now ripped open again, naturally hurting.
Looking at Ivana, grinning brilliantly atop him, Lucas Walker's face grew stormy.
The single blue eye exposed was as frostily cold as if encrusted with ice.
"You're asking for death!"
"Actually, you stole my line!"
The smile vanished from Ivana's face, the right hand holding the dinner knife pressed even harder against his skin.
Noticing the red mark on Lucas Walker's neck, a flicker of surprise passed through her eyes.
What was that faint red mark on his neck?
Had she kissed him there yesterday?!
She couldn't remember!
Whatever.
Bang!
The door was pushed open, and a dozen bodyguards rushed in, the barrels of their guns ruthlessly aimed at Ivana.
"Don't shoot!"
The command came not from Ivana, but from Lucas Walker.