Chapter 126

Two Hours Later

Sunlight filtered through the half-open blinds, casting dappled shadows across the dining table.

The air still held traces of their earlier intimacy—that unmistakable heat that made cheeks flush.

Sherry sat lazily across from Jack, wearing nothing but one of his oversized white dress shirts, loosely draped over her frame.

The hem barely grazed the tops of her thighs. As she shifted slightly in her seat, her long, slender legs were left completely exposed, her skin gleaming with a delicate sheen in the morning light—an image that was impossibly, devastatingly tempting.

She held a fork in one hand, twirling a few strands of pasta before bringing them to her lips.

A dot of rich tomato sauce clung to her cherry-red mouth, making her look both innocent and dangerously alluring at the same time.

As Sherry chewed slowly, her captivating eyes never left the man sitting across from her.

Her gaze was heavy with satisfaction, laced with unmasked possessiveness. She stared at Jack as if admiring her favorite prize—one she'd claimed entirely for herself.

"Good?"

Jack sat across from her, holding a cup of black coffee. His Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

His hair was still tousled, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing sharp collarbones and the faint outline of muscle beneath.

He looked at the woman in front of him—cunning and mesmerizing like a cat—and his voice carried a mix of indulgence and helplessness.

"Not bad."

Sherry swallowed her bite, the corner of her mouth curling into a playful smile.

She set down her fork and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, chin propped in her hands as she gazed at Jack.

The movement made the already loose shirt dip lower at the neckline, offering a glimpse that stirred the imagination.

"Though…" she drawled, her smoky eyes glimmering with mischief, "I think 'you' taste better."

Jack let out a low chuckle. He set down his coffee cup and leaned back in his chair, his dark gaze locking onto hers with a hint of danger in his tone.

"Is that right? Sounds like you didn't get enough earlier."

Sherry laughed softly, not denying it. She simply flicked her tongue out, slowly licking away the red sauce from the corner of her lips—a deliberate, suggestive motion.

"Who knows," she murmured, her eyes glinting with even more mischief. "Maybe… I'll need another round later."

---

Just then.

Sherry's phone rang sharply.

Instantly.

The pleasant mood shattered. Sherry frowned in annoyance.

Still, she picked up the call.

"Hello."

A middle-aged woman's voice came through immediately.

"Sherry, it's me."

Her mother.

The lazy amusement in Sherry's eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold stillness. She glanced reflexively at Jack across the table, then stood up, phone in hand, and walked toward the balcony. She slid the glass door shut behind her, cutting off the scorching gaze from the dining room.

"Mom, what do you want?" Sherry's voice returned to its usual cool, composed tone, though a faint edge of irritation bled through.

Sherry's mother was a woman who thrived on control.

Ever since childhood, she'd tried to dictate every aspect of Sherry's life.

That was exactly why Sherry had gone to military academy in the first place—to escape her mother's grip.

"What do you think?" The voice on the other end was sharp and commanding, skipping any pretense of pleasantries and cutting straight to the point. "This afternoon at three. 'Week 8' restaurant. You're meeting Brad's son. He just got back from studying abroad, and his family has serious clout in the business world. You've already blown him off too many times, do you understand?"

Sherry leaned against the cold metal railing of the balcony, her eyes drifting back to the man inside, quietly sipping his coffee. A flicker of irritation and mockery crossed her face. "Mom, I've told you a million times—I don't need you arranging my life. I'm not going."

"You don't have a choice!" Her mother's voice shot up, laced with that familiar, overbearing authority. "You think just because you went to a military academy for a few years, you can do whatever you want and ignore us? Don't forget—without the family's support, you think you'd be living this comfortably? You think you'd be the Quartermaster General of Imperial City? The driver will pick you up at two-thirty. You 'will' dress nicely. And if you dare not show up, I will disown you!"

With that, the line went dead.

Sherry listened to the dial tone, took a deep breath, and forced down the urge to hurl her phone across the balcony.

Ever since she was a child, whenever she didn't obey, her mother would resort to threats—as if Sherry were nothing more than a puppet on strings.

She turned around, slid the glass door open, and walked back into the dining room.

Jack was still seated, and when he saw her return, he set down his coffee cup. His gaze landed on her face, now shadowed with tension, and he picked up on the shift immediately.

He didn't ask what happened. He just watched her quietly.

Sherry walked over to the table and pulled out her chair.

She didn't touch the pasta. Instead, she picked up her napkin, dabbed at the corner of her mouth, and her tone returned to its usual coolness—though her eyes now held a sharper, more resolute edge.

Then.

Sherry walked straight over to Jack.

She spread her legs and sat directly on his lap.

Her arms looped around his neck.

Her eyes locked onto his.

"Jack…" Sherry's voice was low.

"What is it?"

Jack naturally slid his hands around her slender waist, looking up at her.

Sherry gazed at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "This afternoon, my mom wants me to meet someone."

"It's a blind date."

"His family's loaded. Big connections in Imperial City. My mom's trying to set us up."

"Do you want me to go?"

Jack's hands, resting on her waist, paused for just a moment. A dark flicker passed through his deep-set eyes.

He lifted his head, his gaze settling on her face—so close now. Her expression looked calm, even playful, but buried deep in her eyes was a faint trace of unease she hadn't even noticed herself.

She was testing him.

Or rather, she was waiting for his answer.

Jack didn't respond right away. Instead, he leaned in closer. His nose nearly brushed hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

"What do you think?" he asked, his voice low and steady, betraying nothing.

Sherry frowned slightly, clearly unsatisfied with that response.

She leaned forward and bit lightly at his Adam's apple, then tilted her head back to look at him. "I'm asking 'you'."

Jack looked at her, and slowly, a faint smile curved his lips.

"Go."

The moment the word left his mouth.

Sherry's expression froze.

"But I'm coming with you. I want to see for myself who's got the nerve to try and steal my woman."

Hearing that, Sherry's lips curved upward into a smug smile—as if to say, 'That's more like it.'