Chapter 278 Do You Know What It Feels Like to Be Utterly Without Hope?
Grace typed her address into Henry's phone.
Henry saw the location and frowned slightly. Grace's face flushed with embarrassment. "It's a rented place; the rent is cheaper."
Henry looked indifferently at the traffic ahead, his handsome face showing no expression. "I remember you have a good salary. What have you been spending it on?"
Grace wore her work uniform every day and didn't need to spend money on food, but she was still very thin, which made Henry dissatisfied.
Grace whispered, "I've been saving it for future use."
She thought Henry would be upset, but he just glanced at her and said nothing more.
Twenty minutes later, the black Rolls-Royce stopped downstairs, but it was still a bit of a distance from the entrance. There was only one umbrella in the car.
Henry got out and held the umbrella for her. Grace felt uneasy. "Mr. Montague, I can run over by myself."
Henry said nothing, just gently held her thin shoulder and led her into the rain. By now, the rain was pouring down, with large raindrops hitting him and soaking half of his body.
Squeezing into the hallway, Grace was about to thank him and send him away when suddenly, Henry sneezed.
Grace looked over and saw that half of his clothes were wet. Even though she wanted to avoid him, she couldn't pretend not to see. Besides, Henry was still waiting for her to speak, his mood unpredictable.
She tentatively said in a low voice, "Mr. Montague, come upstairs and I'll make you a cup of coffee."
Henry looked at her with deep eyes.
Grace lowered her head slightly, her voice even softer. "Just a cup of coffee. I don't mean anything else."
Henry still didn't respond, just walked towards the stairs.
On a rainy, moonless night, the old stairs, already in disrepair, seemed even more dark and dilapidated.
Grace felt a bit embarrassed as she led him upstairs and opened her small apartment.
Though the place was small, Grace kept it tidy.
On the dark little desk, a single rose in a glass vase looked particularly delicate, reflecting the hostess's inner hope.
Even though it was her own place, Grace felt very uneasy. She softly asked Henry to take off his coat, saying she had a small heater that could help dry it.
Henry took off his coat and handed it to her, his gaze unfathomable.
Grace pressed her lips together, took the coat to dry, and went to the kitchen to make coffee for Henry.
Henry sat at the small desk, his eyes falling on the newspaper and the missing person notice.
He gently touched it. In fact, Grace had no idea that he had bought up every copy of the newspaper she had published, leaving only one in her possession.
Now, everything and everyone Grace encountered had been carefully orchestrated, all to gradually lead her back to him.
After a while, Grace came over with a cup of coffee.
She saw the newspaper in Henry's hand, her face turning pale, and tried to take it away. "Mr. Montague, that's mine!"
As soon as she spoke, he pulled her onto the small desk.
The dim light cast a warm glow on her skin, making her look particularly soft and beautiful. With her slightly damp hair, she appeared pure and elegant.
Henry had been looking for her for a year. Now that she was right in front of him, how could he resist?
He leaned in, gently pressing his face against hers, and asked softly, "Do you really want to find them?"
His arm, strong and hot, pressed against her waist.
Grace struggled aimlessly but couldn't break free. She moved back, her voice breaking. "Yes, I want to find them! Mr. Montague, I had a husband and children."
"Do you love him?" Henry's voice was hoarse, and as he asked, he stared intently into her eyes, both observing and pressuring.
It seemed that the coldness of the past month had all been a conspiracy, a facade. In fact, he had never given up on possessing her; he had been waiting for this moment.
Grace trembled lightly in Henry's grasp. "Yes!" she replied.
Henry let out a low chuckle and started to slowly unbutton her shirt. Her clothes were damp, and as he peeled them back, her skin looked even softer, trembling a bit.
She didn't want him, but she couldn't push him away.
Maybe Grace had always been drawn to him, to his body, and overwhelmed by his charm, which was why she hadn't put up much of a fight.
Henry began to kiss her, showing her how it's done. She was clumsy, so he guided her wrap her arms around his neck, patiently kissing her passionately.
He pressed his forehead against hers, whispering, "Maybe you don't love him. Maybe you hate him."
"No! No!" Grace recoiled, resisting him, but she couldn't stand up to Henry's tactics.
He was fully dressed, while she was half-undressed in his arms.
He looked down at her, his intense gaze watching her give in to her desires. His long fingers knew exactly what to do; he knew how to bring her to the peak of pleasure.
Grace trembled all over under his touch. At the peak of her excitement, he whispered in her ear, kissing her tenderly, "Do you want to make love? If you do, I'll give it to you right now."
Grace was trapped in his arms, forced into a dilemma by Henry. The secret, unfamiliar feeling inside her made her not only afraid but also too ashamed to speak.
She was a woman, and she had desires, especially when faced with such a handsome and attractive man.
She resisted him in her heart, but she couldn't lie to herself. At this moment, she wanted to make love.
A woman's indulgence happened in a moment.
Henry teased her body again, and as she screamed, she cried out, "No! I don't want it! Mr. Montague, please let me go."
Grace suddenly covered her face and cried. She didn't cover her body; she just sat there under the dim light, on the simple desk, which still bore traces of her desire, but she didn't care. She only begged Henry to let her go.
She cried and murmured, saying Henry didn't lack women, and she just wanted to find her family.
Her lips trembled. "Mr. Montague, do you know what it feels like to be utterly without hope?"