Mechelle pov
I bit my lip slightly, suppressing the pain in my wrist, and said to Louis, "Louis, let go of me!"
There was a suppressed desire churning in my deep eyes, and my voice had grown hoarse. He smiled self-deprecatingly and asked, "Mechelle, am I really not as good as him?"
I stared at him quietly, still remembering our first meeting when he seemed like a gentleman from an ancient scroll, so beautiful that he seemed unearthly. I liked him, inexplicably liked him. His kindness to me, his help, have always been in my heart. But there's always been someone reminding me: "Mechelle, with your tainted past, do you still want to climb into his bed? What right do you have to stand by his side? You're his Mechelle, seducing your stepson will bring retribution. Mechelle, can you bear to drag him into hell?"
No, I couldn't bear it. He was like the star in the sky, giving me hope in my darkest moments.
