Chapter 527 Do Something Extreme
Even though Michael was used to all kinds of situations, he never expected Cordelia to be so bold.
He quickly turned around, exclaiming, "Cordelia, why aren't you wearing any clothes? We still have to go out and entertain the guests! What if someone walks in and sees you like this? Put your clothes on, now!"
Cordelia ignored Michael's words. She walked straight over, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her face against his back.
"Michael, don't worry. My people are guarding the door. No one will come in."
She turned Michael around, hooked her arms around his neck, and leaned in for a kiss.
"Michael, I'm so hot. Your body is so cool. Help me cool down, won't you?"
Michael gently removed her hands from his neck and said patiently, "Cordelia, you're drunk. You need some sobering medicine."
With that, he started to head for the door.
Cordelia grabbed him again. "I don't want any medicine. I just want you."
Her voice was full of pleading. "Michael, don't you want me?"
Michael continued to pry her arms off him. "I don't like taking advantage of you when you're drunk."
Cordelia stood in front of him, her eyes hazy. "Michael, I'm not drunk. I'm very clear-headed. I'm just a little hot."
Michael tugged at his tie and said quickly, "Alright, I know what to do."
Cordelia happily threw herself into his chest.
Michael took a deep breath, picked her up, and carried her to the bathroom.
He placed the naked Cordelia into the bathtub.
As soon as she touched the cold tub, Cordelia shivered all over.
She jumped back into Michael's arms. "Michael, it's so cold."
Michael turned on the shower, letting warm water cascade over her.
"Take a bath. You'll feel better soon."
Cordelia soon calmed down in the bathtub.
Michael wrapped her in a towel, placed her on the bed, and covered her with a blanket.
He exhaled softly, straightened his clothes, and quietly opened the door to leave.
The servant at the door was indeed dutifully standing guard.
Michael said seriously, "Cordelia is tired and has fallen asleep. Don't let anyone disturb her. Let her rest well."
The servant bowed respectfully. "Yes, Mr. Thomas."
Michael walked slowly to the railing in the hallway and looked down, frowning.
Just moments ago, Elizabeth had been watching the crowd in the hall, everyone smiling and enjoying themselves, unlike her, who was filled with worry.
She had watched her former lover walk away with another woman.
What could have happened between them in that time alone?
Elizabeth felt suffocated. She stood up, picked up a glass of wine, and slowly walked towards the deck.
She needed to feel the free, unrestrained sea breeze.
Lost in thought, Elizabeth kept her head down.
As she turned a corner by the stairs, she unexpectedly bumped into a man.
Elizabeth let out a cry and started to fall backward.
The man in the silver-gray suit quickly caught her.
He looked down and asked, "Miss, are you alright?"
Elizabeth snapped back to reality and quickly shook her head. "I'm fine. I'm sorry."
The man glanced at her chest and instructed the person behind him, "Take this lovely Miss to the changing room. The sea breeze is strong, and wearing wet clothes can make you sick."
Elizabeth looked down and realized her dress was wet. She lowered her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."
The assistant behind the man bowed to her. "Miss, please follow me."
Elizabeth followed him to the third floor, to a room.
The assistant said respectfully, "Miss, this is the changing room. There are clothes prepared for guests inside. Feel free to choose."
Elizabeth thanked him and went in, closing the door behind her.
She picked out a black dress that fit her well from the wardrobe.
As she was about to put it on, she saw in the mirror a man in a black suit slowly approaching her.
Elizabeth almost screamed but managed to cover her mouth in time. She realized it was Michael.
She leaned against the table by the mirror, her breath unsteady. "Michael, when did you come in?"
Michael was already beside her. "When your dress got soaked with champagne."
He looked her up and down without restraint. "Nice figure."
Elizabeth had calmed down. Even though Michael had forgotten her and their beautiful memories, he was still her lover.
How could she fear her own lover?
Elizabeth, nearly naked, walked up to Michael, gently tilted her head, and looked at him.
"Michael, I know you've forgotten me, forgotten our past. Gerald had your memory erased, deleting me from your mind. Not everything he told you about me is true. I hope you don't believe him completely."
As she spoke, she grabbed Michael's lapel and hooked his tie.
Michael followed her movements, slowly bending down.
Elizabeth stood on tiptoe.
Now, they could finally look each other in the eye.
Elizabeth's left hand rested on the back of Michael's head, while her right hand gently traced his features.
Her fingers brushed over his thick eyebrows, deep-set eyes, sharp nose, cold cheeks, and finally stopped on his tightly pressed, blade-thin lips.
Her fingers lightly touched his cheek, sliding down his jawline.
Elizabeth's voice was low and tender, with a hint of hoarseness, as if she were holding back some grievance.
"What? Are you nervous? Are you afraid I'll eat you? Michael, you've always bullied me. When have I ever bullied you?"
Michael took a deep breath, gently turned his head, and slowly straightened up.
Elizabeth's left hand exerted a little force, pressing his head towards her.
She was still on tiptoe, her trembling lips brushed against his cold lips, like a dragonfly skimming the water, and then she pulled away.
At the same time, she let go of him and took a step back.
"Michael, you've married another woman. Have you kissed her? Made love to her? Are you still completely mine?"
Michael stood straight, his deep gaze falling on her face.
"Elizabeth, since I've forgotten you, everything between us is over. Cordelia is my wife. I will be with her. I will start my new life. As for you, just wait for my revenge."
Elizabeth's tears rolled down uncontrollably. "I advise you not to act rashly. I'm not saying this for myself. I'm thinking of you. If you do something extreme to me, I'm afraid you'll regret it when you regain your memory."
Michael's brow furrowed slightly. "Really? Extreme? What counts as extreme?"
He suddenly took a step forward, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into his arms.
Michael raised an eyebrow, looking down at Elizabeth. "Does this count?"
He lifted Elizabeth's chin, his voice as cold as a frozen blade. "Or do you want something more extreme?"
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