Chapter 90

Chapter 90

Here we went again.

His classic move-shutting me up with a kiss when the argument heated up.

Bryant gripped my chin, kissing me fiercely, urgently, his hands finding their way around. my waist, sending shivers down my spine.

I know if he kept this up, by the time I walked out that door, I’d look like I’d been through a

windstorm.

But what could I do?

He was domineering, overpowering in these moments, and the physical disparity between men and women is as wide as the Grand Canyon.

Unable to resist, I was aware Bryant preferred being yielded to. So, I tilted my head back and pleaded softly, “Bryant, please, not like this… I can’t show my face later…”

“Who are you showing it to? Mark?”

His voice was a husky whisper against my lips, oddly alluring even now.

At this point, arguing would only make things worse. So, while reluctantly reciprocating his kiss, I seized the opportunity to clarify, “It’s… it’s nothing like that with him… It’s just for the design competition… mm…”

“So, you’re using him?”

He jumped to conclusions in the most peculiar ways, yet I sensed his anger subsiding.

I needed to get out of here, pronto. So I played along. “If that’s how you see it…”

Bryant slightly loosened his

P, allowing me to breathe. His gaze was dangerously flirtatious as his thumb traced my lips, then wandered down my chest, waist, and thighs, his voice deep, “When did you stop liking him?”

Honestly, I didn’t recall ever having feelings for Mark. We hadn’t even laid eyes on each other for three years while he was overseas. Why on earth did Bryant think I was into Mark?

I frowned, replying, “Mark and I have nothing going on.”

Considering the last time Bryant got Mark drunk at a bar, I needed to set things straight.

Otherwise, Mark would get dragged back into this mess.

Bryant looked down, “Really?”

“Or else? You think everyone’s messy like you and Margaret?” I couldn’t help but retaliate.

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Chapter 90

He fixed me with a serious look, “There’s nothing between her and me.”

“Bry! Bry!”

Just as he finished, a familiar voice, one both of us knew all too well, echoed from outside, getting closer, accompanied by persistent knocking.

It was like she was on a mission to catch him in the act.

I looked at Bryant with a mix of sarcasm and bitterness, “She seems to know your every move. How is that nothing?”

I vaguely recalled how Margaret declared her territory right after our third anniversary.

Bryant had the audacity to look me in the eye and claim he only gave her that necklace as a comforting gift after her divorce.

Just like now, utterly unbelievable.

“Bry! Come out!” Margaret’s voice grew louder.

Bryant pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, his expression darkening.

“I never told her.”

“Then go out there and make her leave.”

I tested him, half-hoping.

Sometimes, we women can’t help but push, even when we know there’s no hope.

Bryant’s lips pressed into a thin line, no movement. I refused to be the secret mistress, shrouded in shadows. I pushed him away, ready to open the door myself!

“Jane!” He caught me in a swift motion, stopping me, “I’ll go out.”

“And what about me?”

His expression slightly darkened, he hesitated, “Wait a while, then come out.”

Hearing this, I froze, disbelief painting my face,

A sourness hit me, and I let out something of a laugh, a bitter laugh, “What did you say?”

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