Chapter 30
Harper's mind was thunderstruck.
A figurative explosion rocked her senses.
Her head was pinned against the leather headrest as they kissed through the open window, visible to any passerby on the street.
The man's composed self-restraint had been discarded. His kisses were dominating and possessive.
The aggressive movements of his lips and tongue robbed her of every breath in her mouth, showing no mercy.
This didn't feel like a kiss. It felt more like venting.
Especially since Francis had deliberately allowed their vehicle to pull up alongside Keith's.
They had never been ones to kiss publicly, even in their most intimate moments.
Now he was doing this...
The more Harper thought about it, the angrier she got. 'How could he treat me like this?'
Harper found herself pinned down, her wrists tightly grasped, and her legs rendered immobile by his overpowering force. Though she longed to curse him, her mouth remained firmly shut. With each desperate attempt to breathe, he exerted even more pressure. His kisses lacked tenderness, merely a forceful conquest. His grip on her wrists was so tight that his fingertips grew pale.
Keith, who had been nearby, couldn't stand the sight and quickly drove off.
Tears streamed down Harper's flushed cheeks, flowing to her ears. She felt both wronged and infuriated. 'He's ganging up with Chloe to torment me.' The thought alone suffocated her, and the moment Francis released his grip, she lashed out at him in frustration and anger.
Francis halted, his dark eyes burning with jealousy as he watched her cry. Unusually shaken, he'd never lost control like this before. The thought of another man touching her filled him with a fierce desire to intervene. Despite his anger, he couldn't continue hurting her. Gently, he caressed her swollen lips before letting her go.
Harper caught her breath, and without thinking, her hand flew up. The slap echoed in the confined space of the car, her pent-up fury unleashed.
'Keith and I are nothing but innocent, yet Francis dared to degrade me.'
In that instant, the storm hit. The car was filled with tense, suffocating pressure.
Furious to the point of madness, Francis grabbed Harper's throat, his words seething with anger. It was the first time in his twenty-seven years that anyone had dared to slap him, let alone Harper, the "kitten" he had cared for, all for another man, which hurt his pride more than the physical blow.
Dead silence was the only response. The driver wished fervently to be invisible. He thought of how the story of a dainty girl striking the famously decisive CEO could fetch a high price from the tabloids. Yet, he valued his life more than gossip.
At that moment, every inch of Francis exuded a frozen aura, his chiseled face etched with a terrifying rage. His eyes were bloodshot, and his grip on her neck tightened.
Harper felt an overwhelming terror. He seemed intent on choking the life out of her. "You bastard... let me go..." Her face was etched with fear, her small face turning purplish-red, lips moving but unable to articulate clearly.
Beside himself with fury, the thought of her resisting him for another man nearly drove Francis to lock her away. As her face grew paler, devoid of color, he suddenly released her.
"Cough, cough, cough..." Harper's body slumped.
At that moment, the breath of fresh air felt like a lavish indulgence, and she inhaled deeply, desperate for its cleansing embrace.
Yet, there was no alleviation to the man's dark countenance.
His gaze was fixed on her, his eyes a deep, glacial black, the look on his face one of unmistakable menace.
Just when Harper thought he would lash out at her again, he spoke abruptly.
"Harper, why were you with him?"
'Why?' The question almost coaxed a laugh out of Harper.
Why had she been walking barefoot on the street? Why had she run into Keith?
It was all because of him.
Because of the despicable affair between him and Chloe that had sickened her to the core.
Yet, she couldn't voice that. To admit it would be to admit she still cared.
To Francis, her feelings would seem nothing more than a fleeting admiration, the kind shared by countless other women in his life—worthless.
She stood no chance against Chloe when it came to Francis. No matter what, she could never win.
Observing Harper's silent, pursed lips, Francis grew even more angry. Mocking her with a twisted smile, he taunted, "What's the matter? You won't speak to me now that your beloved senior is back. Weren't you once yearning to study in his city, regretting that it never happened? Are you looking to rekindle an old flame?"
His barrage of questions was laced with a hint of jealousy that even he hadn't noticed.
"You're checking up on me?" Harper fumed, her eyes wide with indignation.
Francis ignored her anger, elegantly pinching a thin, gold-embossed business card between his fingers.
"IA Investment Bank General Manager, Keith."
With a flick of his wrist, the card fluttered to the ground by Harper's feet, his expression a sardonic mix of amusement and menace. "You do realize, Harper, that crushing him would be as effortless for me as squashing an ant?"
Keith's credentials were impressive, yes, but he was no match to the soaring Getty family.
Harper felt her blood boiling with his unreasonable threats.
"Francis, this is between us," she blazed. "Take it out on me if you're angry, but leave others out of it. What kind of man targets those who are uninvolved?"
In an instant, Francis felt an incendiary rage ignite within him.
"Stop the car!" His command was chilling.
Only then did Harper realize they had arrived at the gates of the Moou Residence.
Before she could gather her bearings, Francis had already swung the door open, half-dragging, half-carrying her out.
The grand villa gates were wide open. Auntie, seeing their return, hurried to greet them.
"Make sure no one is allowed in," Francis ordered, his dark eyes radiating a cold, threatening intensity that left Auntie too scared to utter a word.
Harper panicked, uncertain of his intentions, her left hand pounding helplessly against his back.
"Francis put me down this instant. What are you doing?" Harper's voice trembled with a mix of fear and anger.
Thud!
The door swung open with a swift kick and swung shut behind him, sealing them in together.
In the blink of an eye, Harper was ensconced in the plush silkiness of the comforter while Francis loomed over her, his palm grasping her chin with a force that commanded attention. "Have you forgotten what it means to have a man?" His voice was a low growl. "You used to beg for mercy in this very bed. No worries, sweetheart, I'll jog your memory."
Harper's body jolted, her complexion turning as pale as snow. She was no naive girl. She understood the ominous undertones of his words all too well.
The window stood ajar, streaming in the moonlight as if it were broad daylight, throwing Francis's sharp features into a chiaroscuro that accentuated his rugged handsomeness.
Without taking his eyes off her, Francis stood up and methodically began to remove his tie, his shirt, and then his belt.
Harper's eyes widened in terror, and she tried to flee, but she was barely on her feet when his sharp senses caught her movement. His large hand quickly grasped her delicate waist, seemingly boneless, and pulled her back towards him. Ignoring the pain in her hands, she fought fiercely.
A cold chuckle escaped him as he restrained her flailing wrists with his tie, his knee pressing between her trembling legs. A chill breeze whisked through the room, and Francis's narrowed eyes gleamed in the moonlight, hinting at the awakening of a beast within.
"Harper, I've been too good to you," he murmured, his tone laced with a chill that matched the wind outside.
Too good, considering she had dared to raise a hand to him for another man.
Now, her attempts to push him away were futile against the heat and unyielding strength of his body. The sound of tearing fabric echoed in the room as her clothing was savagely ripped away.
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