Chapter 19 Like Selling Your Body?
Grace might've wanted to argue with Henry or talk about divorce, but she'd never joke about her own body. Plus, she was starving.
The oatmeal smelled great and was nice and soft. After finishing a bowl, Grace felt a lot better.
By the floor-to-ceiling window, Henry leaned against the wall. Twilight streamed in, highlighting his profile, making him look even more handsome. With his neatly trimmed hair and sharp outfit, he looked pretty dashing.
He lit a cigarette but didn't smoke it, just held it out the window, letting the evening breeze carry the smoke away. The bedroom had a faint hint of nicotine, mixing with Henry's own scent.
After Grace finished her oatmeal, Henry put out the cigarette, turned around, and looked at her. "Seraphina called. She wants us to visit. What do you think?"
Seraphina was always kind to Grace. Grace didn't want to hurt her feelings, but she knew Seraphina would eventually find out about the divorce. She thought for a moment and said, "Henry, you should explain it to Seraphina."
"Explain what?" Henry's gaze was intense. "Explain that you can't see her because you're divorcing me? In such a hurry, are you afraid it will mess up your plans?"
Grace didn't want to explain. She got up, intending to change clothes and leave, but Henry grabbed her slender wrist. Grace's wrist was so thin that Henry easily held it. His expression had a hint of mockery. "How about a paid service, Mrs. Montague? How does $20,000 sound for one time?"
Grace couldn't break free. He picked up her phone, unlocked it with her hand, and removed himself from the blacklist, transferring $20,000 to her. After the transfer, he mocked, "Playing the violin at Frank's for a night only gets you $2,000."
Grace shot back, "And you spend at least a million dollars on fireworks for Elodie, right?"
"What do you mean?" In the dim twilight, Henry looked down at her and asked again in a low voice, "Grace, what do you mean?"
Grace was embarrassed and angry. "Nothing! Henry, let me go!"
Henry only tightened his grip. His blue eyes stared at her unblinkingly, the heat in them making Grace's legs weak. After a long while, he pulled her closer, almost forcing her against his chest. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, she could feel his heaving chest.
He whispered, his masculine scent enveloping her as he spoke near her ear, "Then tell me, what piques your interest?"
Although Henry posed the question, he didn't seem to genuinely want to hear the answer. In the next moment, he swiftly guided her hand to unbuckle his belt, and before long, his pants were undone.
Grace was momentarily stunned. Her soft red lips were captured by his. Henry held her slender waist, stumbling as they half-knelt onto the sofa.
He kissed her urgently, breathing heavily amidst those teasing actions. He pressed his forehead against hers, his high nose brushing lightly against her, the skin-to-skin contact bringing a hint of moisture.
This lovemaking came unexpectedly. Grace wasn't prepared, and neither was Henry.
In that moment, his mind was clouded by desire, consumed by the urge to kiss her passionately, to make love. Somewhere deep within, he sensed that beyond mere physical release, there was something more profound at play. It was the first time he had felt this way about Grace.
Henry wanted to see her, her eyes filled with tears, soft beneath him, and hear her moans.
His scorching kisses lingered at her ear, his voice hoarse and dripping with seduction. "Just once!"
Grace's mind cleared a bit. How could she agree? She pushed against his chest, shaking her head to avoid his kisses, her voice tinged with the soft allure of a mature woman. "Henry, we can't do this anymore."
But at this moment, how could Henry hold back? He claimed her red lips, justifying, "Why not? Mrs. Montague, we are still legally married."
Grace was in his arms. He had held back all night, and now he didn't intend to let her go. Henry enjoyed the soft warmth, lowering his head to focus on her, watching her go weak under his touch.
Men often tend to assert dominance more when women plead for mercy, and Henry was no exception. He lifted her body, pressing against her, his blue eyes locked on her, saying something harsh. "You say no, but your body is very honest! Mrs. Montague, you should see yourself now, so wanton!"
Grace was seething with anger. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. "You're no different!"
Henry lowered his head to kiss her again. In the prime of his life, brimming with vigor, wealth, and status, he was a man whom many girls would eagerly pursue. Yet, hidden behind closed doors, his true nature in bed remained a mystery to all. He always exuded dominance.
Half-forced intimacy was never pleasant, and Grace kept resisting. In their struggle, there was a knock at the door.
Hearing the commotion inside, the servant hesitated, speaking in a low voice, "Mr. Montague, Clara called, asking if Mrs. Montague is here! How should I respond?"
Inside the bedroom, the commotion stopped. Grace pushed Henry away, brushed her sweaty hair, and said to the outside, "Tell her I'll be back soon."
The servant responded.
After a moment, footsteps sounded outside, gradually fading away.
Grace got up and silently tidied her clothes. After a while, she asked somewhat angrily, "Where are the clothes I came in?"
"Torn last night," said Henry.
He lounged on the sofa, indifferent to his disheveled appearance. Reaching for a cigarette box and lighter, he extracted a cigarette, holding it between his long fingers. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Grace.
After a while, he sneered, "Aren't there clothes in the wardrobe? Don't want to be Mrs. Montague so much that you don't even want to touch the clothes? But you were quite enthusiastic under me just now."
Unwilling to entertain his vulgar discourse, Grace made her way to the walk-in closet. There, she selected the most modest attire to change into, swiftly grabbing her phone before heading for the door, intent on leaving.
Henry got up to follow. "I'll take you!"
Grace refused, "We're getting divorced, no need for such courtesy! Henry, let's consider last night an accident. This won't happen again!"
Upon her final words, he seized her wrist firmly, his expression dark with frustration. Henry's silence spoke volumes as he wordlessly guided her downstairs, his actions betraying his foul mood.
In the hall, the servant was busy with chores. Not daring to look, the servant kept her head down, pretending to work silently.
Grace was thrown into the car by Henry, who followed and slammed the door in anger. In the past, Grace would have cared, but now she just leaned back in the seat, thinking he was probably frustrated or upset with Elodie.
Thinking of Elodie, Grace felt a bit blocked. Her hand was held by Henry, and she heard his faint voice by her ear. "What are you thinking about?"
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