Chapter 3 Ziven Meyer, You B*stard

• Time seemed to come to a stop. Arielle’s hand shook, while Yoel was perplexed but distressed at the wound on his young master’s neck. Only Ziven’s expression remained unchanged throughout it all, or more accurately speaking, he had been expressionless all along.
• After nonchalantly sweeping a glance over the two men who were searching outside, his thin and appealing lips parted as he uttered a single word that confounded both Arielle and Yoel. “Drive.”
• “D-Drive?” Yoel was again stunned. Does this mean that Young Master Ziven is conceding to her threat? But he has a godlike existence in Baylin! When has he ever yielded to someone else’s threat? Furthermore, holding a razor against his neck is tantamount to courting death!
• Arielle, however, no longer had the capacity of thought. The moment the car drove out of the hotel parking, her grip loosened, and the eyebrow razor slipped from her fingers.
• Upon seeing this, Ziven spread his long fingers, and the eyebrow razor fell onto his palm. Then, he simply flung it aside. “Where do you want to go?”
• His voice was indescribably mesmerizing, so much so that Arielle never tired of it, hypnotized every single time she heard his low and sexy voice. She subconsciously grabbed his shirt as the fire within her threatened to set her ablaze, and her mind started growing hazy. Nevertheless, a thought kept lingering in her mind. “Ziven Meyer…” Her breathing was heavy and rapid, her voice exceedingly hoarse. “I won’t… love you. I’ll never… fall in love with you, you b*stard!”
• Yoel’s hands shook, and he almost overturned the car. It’s their engagement day tonight, so isn’t soon-to-be Young Mistress Meyer being too hurtful in her speech? While I’m aware that Young Master Ziven only agreed to this marriage because it’s his gravely ill grandmother’s wish, isn’t this simply too blunt? But it’s glaringly obvious that she isn’t in her right mind now, so she might not even know what she’s saying.
• His jet-black eyes narrowing, Ziven stared at Arielle’s flushed face. “I’m a b*stard?” Why don’t I remember having done anything dastardly to this fiancée of mine?
• “You’re indeed a b*stard.” Arielle bit her lip as a faint sheen of moisture blanketed her eyes out of grievance, resentment, and despair. “Why must you do this to me? Why, Ziven Meyer, you b*stard?” She swung her fists and thumped him hard on the chest.
• Ziven restrained her hands, but before he could say anything, she abruptly lifted her head and gazed at him with tears shimmering in her eyes. Pouting, she wore a miserable expression on her face. “Ziven Meyer, I don’t feel good… Uhh…” Her expression was so pitiful that one would truly suspect that he’d done something dastardly to her.
• At this time, Arielle’s head spun, and her vision went blurry. After her temper tantrum, the drug again started coursing through her body. I’m so hot, and it itches as though countless ants are crawling all over me. She kept leaning close to Ziven, and she even began rubbing herself against him.
• His gaze darkening, Ziven grasped her shoulders and pushed her away. He said nothing, but his eyes that were as cold as ice were sufficient to strike fear into others.
• Arielle unconsciously shuddered. It was truly glacial, but it felt as though a fire was burning so hotly within her that even the arctic air couldn’t extinguish it. As time passed, the effects of the drug worsened, and she couldn’t even make out the person before her. She stretched out her hands and actually started pulling at the collar of his shirt. “It’s so hot. Give it to me…”
• “Y-Young Master Ziven, something seems… seems amiss with soon-to-be Young Mistress Meyer.” Yoel, who was driving, sneaked a peek at the rear-view mirror.
• Ziven lowered his head and glanced at Arielle, only to see that she’d straddled him while he was otherwise distracted.