Chapter 76 Chapter 76
The name "Benjamin" stood out on the paper. In some places, it wasn't just an imprint; faint, delicate traces of ink lingered. The characters were slender and sharp with clearly visible edges, revealing the force she'd used when writing.
He glanced at her in surprise, then lowered his head again to examine the others. His fingers shifted slightly, adjusting the paper's angle to see the marks more clearly.
Grace tore out of it, clenched her teeth, and yanked the paper back from Benjamin's grasp. She tore it clean in half and shoved the pieces into the shredder beside the desk. "What are you looking at? Didn't you know not to touch other people's things without permission?"
Benjamin hadn't expected her to react this way. His fingertip was nicked by the sharp paper. The wound was minor, yet a tiny bead of blood slowly seeped out.
He looked up at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. "What are you so nervous about? What was written on that paper? Why was my name there?"
Grace snorted coldly, lifting her chin slightly as she masked her true emotions with a hardened demeanor. "I write whatever I want. It's none of your business."
He watched her, a low chuckle escaping him. "If my name is written, it's my business. Don't tell me you missed me so much that you wrote my name unconsciously.”
Grace retorted with a bitter laugh. “Why wouldn't it be that I hate you so much that I want to curse you with witchcraft?”
He tugged at the corner of his mouth, but said nothing; he just watched her.
For a moment, Grace felt her heart stop. She remembered something far more terrifying—the paper she had written on earlier hadn't been shredded but crumpled and tossed into the wastebasket. That was far more deadly than the imprinted paper! Yet, she dared not hesitate, let alone glance at the wastebasket. She busied herself packing her leather bag and asked him coldly, "I'm clocking out. Are you planning to stay here?"
Benjamin gave a faint smile, took a step back, and leaned lightly against another desk. "Grace, don't provoke me. You know I'm not patient. This is your office, and I don't want to embarrass you.”
She stopped what she was doing, lifted her head, and stared at him for a moment. Then, enunciating each word carefully, she asked, "Benjamin, what exactly do you mean by 'embarrassing me'? Having someone rape me here? Or ruining my reputation like you did to them, plastering my posters all over campus?” As she spoke, her eyes welled up uncontrollably, yet she still stood straight. “Is that what you call embarrassing me?”
He frowned slightly, his lips pressed together in silence.
"If it's the former, go ahead. You've done this kind of thing anyway. As for the latter,” she paused, sneering as she lowered her head to retrieve the accusatory letter from her bag. With a sharp slap, she tossed it onto the desk beside him. “Someone's already done it for you, though not quite well enough. Feel free to study it. I hope you can do better!"
She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm abruptly.
He seized her wrist and pulled her back to face him. His tone was cool. "Let's talk things out properly. You never told me before. How was I supposed to know you'd been reported?"
Since he was showing weakness, she seized the chance to press further. With a cold laugh, she countered, “Have you ever spoken to me calmly? You threaten me at the slightest provocation. Benjamin, I'm already in this state. My family is gone, my husband left me, and now my reputation is completely ruined. Everyone in the school knows that I'm a mistress, accompanying a wealthy man to clubs. Benjamin, what else is left for you to threaten me with?"
He didn't answer but actually smiled.
This enraged her further. She shook his hand violently, trying to break free. Seeing that he wouldn't let go, she lowered her voice and shouted, "Let go!"
Instead of releasing her, however, he wrapped his other arm around her neck and cupped the back of her head. He tilted her face down and silenced her fury with a kiss.
He kissed her hard, his tongue invading her mouth.
At first, she struggled fiercely, but slowly her resistance weakened until she finally surrendered to him completely.
After a long moment, her entire face flushed crimson. Only then did he relent, lifting his head to look at her.
Desire clearly flared in her eyes, yet she glared at him and snapped, "Asshole!"
"Thanks," he chuckled, utterly unfazed. Releasing her, he picked up the letter and examined the envelope. He asked casually, "Is this why you refuse to go back?"
It was nearly ten o'clock. If he hadn't discovered that she was still at school at this hour, he wouldn't have deliberately detoured to find her on his way home from work.
He had clearly set aside the matter of the handwriting for now, but she was still shaken by it. Acting more despondent, she gave a self-mocking smile and replied, "I need to calm down and figure out who I've offended."
Benjamin raised an eyebrow. "Who did you offend?"
She shot him a cold glance. "Only you."
He chuckled and pulled out the letter to glance over it. Then, with a mocking smile on his lips, he looked up at her. "Nathan? What? Did you sleep with him?"
Grace was so furious that she managed to slam her purse at him.
He grabbed the strap and chuckled. "Why the rush? I was just joking.”
"Fuck you!" she hissed, still seething. To spite him further, she added, "Yes, I did sleep with him. And not just once—we went through eight boxes of condoms!"
This was clearly a wild exaggeration, and he didn't take it seriously. Instead, he countered, "So does he have eight dicks?"
She froze, clenching her jaw, refusing to speak. Her face drained of color. After a long moment, she asked in a trembling voice, "Benjamin, do you think this is funny? Being stared at by everyone and having people gossip about us wherever we go—you think that's funny?”
His laughter finally died down. He studied her for a moment, then drew her close. Lowering his head back to the letter, he murmured softly, "This person knows who I am and dares not provoke me."
Surprised that he'd grasped this so instantly, she lifted her eyes to meet his.
Benjamin smiled at her and added, "But it's not someone close to me either. They know very well that doing this is provoking me.”
She gave a sarcastic chuckle and flattered him, "You're Satan. The fallen angels around you wouldn't dare provoke you. Only this little devil knows where he came from and your reputation, but not your methods. He thinks he can't provoke you this way.”
Benjamin merely smiled upon hearing this and tilted his head to kiss her cheek. "I love your sharp tongue," he chuckled.
He folded the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket with the envelope. “Leave this to me,” he said.
Truthfully, Grace hadn't wanted to involve Benjamin. He disregarded the law and consistently met violence with violence. Who knew what he might do?
If it hadn't been to distract him, she never would have told him. Pressing her lips together, she refused. “No need. I'll handle it myself.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly. "How?"
"Report it. Let the police handle it," she answered. After a moment's thought, she added, "This is defamation. Only through the police can I restore my reputation."
Benjamin remained noncommittal but let out a soft chuckle before asking, "Are you sure that will work? Besides, half of what's in that letter is true. You really are my mistress.”
He had spoken without thinking, but the moment the words left his lips, he sensed something was wrong. Sure enough, he felt Grace stiffen.
He opened his mouth to explain but stopped mid-sentence. Instead, he lowered his gaze to watch her, waiting for her reaction.
He didn't want to indulge her too much. Apologizing for every misstep would spoil her and blur the lines of who was in charge.
Their relationship had only just begun. He was the master, and she was the slave. She existed to please him. He could indulge her, but only when he chose to.
Surprisingly, she didn't grow angry. Instead, she was unusually calm, speaking with only a hint of weariness. "Benjamin, I'm exhausted today. I don't want to argue with you anymore. Or rather, I don't have the energy to jump around trying to amuse you anymore.”
She lowered her eyes, picked up her leather bag, and walked toward the door. Only when she reached the entrance did she turn back and urge him, "Aren't you coming? Didn't you come here just to take me back to sleep with you? Why are you wasting time here?"
Benjamin's expression was grave. He slipped his hands into his pockets and followed her out in silence.
She said nothing, simply closing the office door behind her, locking it with a quick turn of the key, and turning to leave.
The two walked silently through the corridor, one ahead of the other, down the stairs. Only when they reached the exterior of the building did she suddenly seem to remember something. She stopped and muttered to herself, "I think I forgot to turn off the lights."
Saying this, she took two more steps forward and looked up at the office window. The light was indeed still on. Glancing at him, she said indifferently, "Wait a moment. I'll go back and turn off the lights." She turned and walked back into the building without haste. Still calm, she unlocked the door. But the moment she stepped inside, she hurried to her desk, fished the scrap of paper out of the wastebasket, put it in her mouth, and swallowed it whole with a mouthful of water.
She wasted no time turning off the light, locking the door, and leaving. Outside, he remained standing where she’d left him. She walked over unhurriedly, passing him without pausing and murmuring softly, "Let's go. We're taking your car, right?”
His vehicle sat by the roadside with the driver waiting inside while Michael stood outside. As they approached, he immediately opened the rear door. She slid into the car without hesitation. As the driver started the engine, she pressed a button on the console, raising the partition between them. Then, she climbed over and straddled him, undoing his tie.
He leaned back, unresponsive. After a moment, he finally raised his hand and grasped her wrist.
She looked up at him in surprise, seemingly misunderstanding his intent. She released his tie and moved her hand downward to unbutton his pants. But he still held her wrist, preventing her from moving. His eyes met hers as he said, "I don't want to do it here today."
She froze for a second, then gave a soft chuckle and countered, "Does it really matter? He narrowed his eyes slightly and answered, "I'd say it really matters."
The cramped confines of the car could never compare to the comfort of a soft bed.
He turned her over and over, changing positions seven or eight times, indulging his desires to the fullest while subconsciously seeking to please her.
Afterward, he pinned her beneath him completely, nibbling intermittently at her sweat-dampened back. Panting, he asked, "Did you enjoy it?"
Exhausted and unable to move, she closed her eyes and bit her lip, refusing to answer.
But he knew she had reached the same peak as him moments ago. Whether she admitted it or not, her body's reaction couldn't lie.
He chuckled softly and flipped her over to face him again. With their foreheads pressed together and their noses brushing, he commanded, "Answer me."
Her eyelashes fluttered violently, but she still refused to speak.
He only laughed, his hand drifting downward again. "Silence means dissatisfaction. Rest assured, I'll make sure you're satisfied."
Only then did she snap her eyes open and glare at him. "Yes," she answered through clenched teeth. "Very satisfied."
Unexpectedly, this played right into his trap. He chuckled. "Very well. Since I've satisfied you, you should satisfy me in return."
His stamina was downright terrifying. Barely moments after finishing and going soft, he was rock-hard again in the blink of an eye.
She was stunned at first, then flushed crimson. She glared at him angrily for a moment before suddenly shoving him down and pinning him beneath her.
"Alex," she hissed. "I'll kill you someday."
He hated it when she called him "Alex," especially in bed. To him, that name was like a full moon to a werewolf—it unleashed his savage side. Gripping her waist tightly, he thrust into her with all his strength and asked, “Do you want me to die on top of you?”
"By my hand," she answered without flinching.
The room burned with heat; the very air was scorching. They rolled and tangled together; her passion was overwhelming, and his was nearly mad.
At the final moment, he nearly lost control but suddenly remembered something. He jerked away, still holding her tight but releasing everything outside.
Her body trembled with the aftermath of her climax. Her hands clung tightly to his shoulders and her voice was laced with a hint of sobbing. Only after a long while did she gradually calm down. Suddenly, she murmured softly, "Benjamin, you're wrong. I'm not your mistress. I'm only your whore. A mistress has 'love,' but I have only hate."
He fell silent, then asked, "Is that why you wrote my name so fiercely?"
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "I wanted to use the pen like a knife and stab you to death. Each time I wrote it, it felt like killing you once more. That's why I couldn't stop writing it over and over—how I killed you. As if writing it down could make it real."