Grace was accustomed to seeing this man's naked body, but now, clad in a suit, he felt like a total stranger—distant and gentlemanly. He was a stark contrast to the memory she had of him.
The day John Amster rescued her from the water, he wore a black vest, military pants, and Dr. Martens. The vest, soaked and clinging to his physique, outlined his smooth muscles. The back of his hand, firm against her waist, revealed the bulging veins in his arms, exuding potent masculinity.
At first sight, Grace made a decision that contradicted her usual self. She had thought he was a soldier. In bed, he was rough and passionate, always pushing her to the brink of ecstasy, making it impossible to resist. Now, even in a suit, he looked nobler and more extraordinary than she had imagined.
His rough fingertip brushed against her delicate palm, pulling her back to reality. She quickly regained her composure and withdrew her hand from his grasp.
Grace had suspected his background was decent; after all, the hotels where they met were upscale. Yet, the calluses on his palms suggested he wasn't a pampered young master. She never imagined that the first man she slept with would turn out to be John Amster, heir to the Amster family, who had just returned to the country three months ago—and a father.
Suppressing a whirlwind of thoughts, she explained, "Mr. Amster, I'm truly sorry. Jimmy had a little scuffle with his classmate. It's my fault for not keeping a closer eye on him..." Jimmy piped up, "Dad, it's not Ms. Quinn's fault! Larry was being rude."
Standing straight with her hands clasped in front of her abdomen, Grace presented an image of purity, entirely different from the alluring figure he had seen wrapped around him at night. Under his scrutinizing gaze, she felt a flutter of uncertainty. Licking her lips, she continued, "Mr. Amster, I promise to take better care of Jimmy in the future. I hope you can be lenient and not file a complaint..."
Jimmy anxiously tugged at his father's shirt, wanting to defend her.
Then John spoke, "Ms. Quinn is indeed at fault." Grace pursed her lips and lowered her gaze, looking obedient as she braced for reprimand. His eyes fell on the exposed skin of her neck, where a dark red mark lingered—evidence of their passionate encounter. John took a step closer, his voice low and intimate, "Ladies should stay out of duels between men." His warm breath against her neck sent shivers down her spine. He had to be doing this on purpose.
Despite the bustling preparations for the performance, if anyone caught sight of them like this, her reputation would be tarnished. Grace stepped back, her cheeks burning. When she met his wild gaze, she tried to hide her shyness, but he saw right through her.
Calmly, John patted Jimmy on the shoulder, "If this happens again, I'll take the blame, even if Larry gets seriously hurt." Grace frowned, disapproving of his parenting tactics.
Noticing her expression, John added, "Ms. Quinn, don't worry. It's normal for children to fight. It has nothing to do with you."
"Thank you for your understanding. I'll take Jimmy to change clothes. Excuse me for a moment."
Taking Jimmy's hand, she left without looking back, her aloofness evident. After changing him into clean clothes and tidying him up, she gently touched his head. She cared for Jimmy, and she found John to be an excellent partner—good stamina and all. But now that they were connected, it was time to end things.
She pulled out her phone and sent a message:
[The game is over.]
After changing into a dress and applying light makeup, she walked toward the venue. John glanced at his phone. It was that woman. Direct and cold, she wasted no time. Suddenly, a spotlight illuminated Grace in her white dress, violin in hand, casting a soft halo around her. With minimal makeup, she looked sacred and elegant.
She was neither as seductive as when they were in bed nor as pure as earlier. Her facial features were bright and captivating; when she smiled, her fox-like eyes drew people in, but when she didn't, they held a hint of coldness. Now, with her eyes closed, she resembled a fairy from another realm, delicate and ethereal, leaning into her violin.
John had expected her skills to be average, but he was taken aback by her talent. Nearby, a parent whispered, "I didn't know Ms. Quinn was this skilled." Sitting up straight, he replied, his voice low and serious, "Just so-so. There's still room for improvement." His tone was proper, yet it carried an undertone that hinted at something more.
John recalled how Grace had clung to him in bed, and now, dressed so elegantly, she looked enchanting. He couldn't help but want her.
After she finished playing, she slowly opened her eyes, locking gazes with him. His intense stare pierced through the room, unwavering. The audience erupted in applause, not just for their children but for Grace's near-professional performance.
Grace took the children to bow and distributed handmade gifts to each parent, exuding grace, kindness, and attentiveness. Once the event concluded and the children were picked up, she sighed in relief. Removing her decorative earrings, she approached the dressing room. Just as she was about to open the door, strong arms pulled her inside.
Grace gasped softly, falling into John's firm embrace. Annoyance flickered across her face as she said, "Let me go." But he tightened his grip.
"Ms. Quinn, that's not what you said in bed yesterday."
His warm breath tickled her ear, making her blush.
"I remember you saying, 'Slow down, be gentle, baby.' Guess what I was thinking while you played the violin?"
Grace felt a mix of shyness and anger, her reproachful gaze piercing through the tension.
"Mr. Amster, I told you it's over..." His finger pressed against her soft lips, silencing her. Looking down, he noticed how fragrant and soft she felt against him. His fingertip traced her delicate lips, and he whispered, "Shh! Someone's coming."
Grace's eyes widened, her body tensing. She pushed against him, but he caught her wrists, lifting them above her head. Suddenly, his lips brushed against her ear, his voice low and sultry, "I want to hide you away so no one can see you... and make you cry out over and over again..."