Love Unspoken

Quinn's body tensed, her gaze dropping swiftly to follow the trajectory of his finger, which had come to rest on her abdomen.

She was clad in one of his Henley shirts, a garment that bore a resemblance to a dress, yet was distinctively different, fastened as it was with buttons down the front.Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

His fingers, with a deftness that belied his intentions, unfastened one of these buttons. A wave of panic surged through Quinn, and she pressed his hand down, shaking her head in a silent plea. "Do you still wish to return to Alexander's side?" Walter inquired, his smile unwavering, his gaze clear and devoid of any discernible desire. It seemed he was merely toying with her. Quinn's lips were drawn tight.

She was at a loss as to what Walter desired to hear; both shaking and nodding her head seemed fraught with danger. "Hmm?"

She grasped his hand, her strength pitifully inadequate against his, much like a bee attempting to shake a tree. Quinn shook her head and gestured with her hands, a silent proclamation, "I will not go back, I will not return!" The amusement in Walter's eyes deepened, yet her words did nothing to soften his heart. He leaned in close, his whisper tickling her ear, "Has Alexander ever done this to you?"

Quinn turned her head away, evading the warmth of his breath, and crumpled onto the ground in a heap. She attempted to push him away, but he seized her wrist.

Walter's gaze lingered on her delicate, pale neck, the soft wisps of hair behind her ear, and the reddening tip of her ear, his clear eyes darkening with a shadow of murky intent. Quinn's fingers clutched at her clothing, her eyes fixed on the ground, specifically on the coal shovel she had wielded earlier.

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She reached out, seized the shovel, and swung it at him. But before it could connect, he caught her wrist. Quinn looked up and saw the dangerous glint in his eyes.

She blinked rapidly. Walter squeezed her wrist tightly, causing her pain, and the shovel clattered to the ground. Then, without warning, he delivered a sharp slap to her face. "Smack-" A crisp sound echoed as Quinn hit the ground hard. Her cheek felt numb, not in pain, just buzzing in her ears, the world going dark before her eyes, with a faint taste of blood in her mouth.

Lying face down, it took a while for Quinn's vision to clear. She lifted her head and looked at Walter with a trace of blood on her lips, managing a smile despite the numbness on one side of her face. Walter's eyes were cold as he gripped her collar and hauled her to her feet.

A smirk played at his lips, "Why do we always have to do this the hard way?" Quinn's gaze flickered, tears welling in her eyes. "Even Alexander doesn't want you. Are you really trying to stay pure for him? Don't degrade yourself." He tenderly touched her swollen cheek with a gentleness that bordered on pity, as if the slap hadn't come from his own hand. Walter released her and sat back down, looming over her from his chair, "Come here." Quinn hesitated, pushing against the floor to stand..

Her eyes widened in shock as she looked at him. He tilted his head slightly, his wavy short hair falling gracefully, a smile on his lips, and in his crisp white suit, he might as well have been a Greek prince stepped right out of an oil painting. An angel's face harboring a devil's dark, violent soul-such was the truest portrait of this man. "Quinn, come here," he called again. Clutching at her sleeves, Quinn refused to budge, as humiliation spread through her core and began to spill from her eyes. "You can't take this?"

Walter said. "If you don't obey, I'll have you shipped off to Myanmar to experience their methods of torture firsthand." Quinn lowered her head, tears dropping heavily, her gaze fixated on the brazier, even entertaining the thought of plunging headfirst into it. Seeing her unresponsive, Walter didn't show anger; instead, he took out a tablet and did something on it. "Is this her?"