Chapter 486


    Frederick’s upper body was almost entirely pressed against Marguerite’s body.


    He looked down at her, his breath hot and fierce, blowing directly onto Marguerite’s face.


    Marguerite’s heart fluttered, and for a moment, she had the wild desire to kiss him.


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    But she knew she didn’t have the nerve. With a mockingly yfulugh, she taunted him, “Do you


    enjoy the thrill of a secret rendezvous? Last time you tried to kiss me in front of Maurice and failed. Are


    you trying to even the score today?”


    Frederick’s face was expressionless, “Even the score? That should be done face-to-face. What’s the


    point if it’s done in secret?”


    “Then let rne call Maurice in.” As Marguerite spoke, she pushed Frederick away with effort, ducked


    under his arm, and reached for the door.


    Bút suddenly, Frederick scooped Marguerite up from behind with one arm, locked the door with the


    other, spun around, and tossed her onto the bed before looming over her.


    The sudden closeness made Marguerite’s head spin.


    He had clearly stated he didn’t love her, so why was he doing this now?


    Marguerite couldn’t understand and was desperate to probe, “Have you never seen me in a wedding


    dress before?”


    His deep pupils fixed on her, then he lowered his head, brushing the tip of his nose against the side of


    Marguerite’s face, his voice husky, “Never.”


    “Do I look beautiful today?”


    “Yes,” he admitted without pretense. “But I don’t like it.”


    “Why not? Is it because I’m not wearing this dress for you?”


    Frederick paused, his hands bracing on either side of Marguerite, lifting his eyes to hers.


    “What are you trying to say?”


    “I think you do have feelings for me, right?” As Marguerite asked, tears suddenly welled up at the


    corners of her eyes. Time and again, her tentative reaching out only led to heartache.


    “Marguerite, don’t get too clever for your own good, you might just y with fire.”


    Marguerite, gathering her courage, hooked her hands around his neck, “What does ying with fire


    mean? Does sleeping with


    you count?”


    Frederick looked surprised. His perception of Marguerite was still stuck three years in the past, of the


    innocent, dedicated, and serene girl she was-not the woman she had be.


    Today’s Marguerite made him feel like he didn’t quite know her. But that wasn’t strange.


    Three years ago, when he found out that the person who had been scheming behind his back was


    Marguerite, she had already ceased to be the girl he knew.


    Heughed mockingly, replying, “It counts.”


    Marguerite stared at him with wide eyes, persistent, she asked again, “But if you don’t love me, why


    would you want to sleep with me?”


    “It will be meaningless sex, and it has nothing to do with love.”


    In that instant, Marguerite felt utterly defeated. Her hands, which had been around his neck, moved


    uncontrobly to caress his face, tracing the line of his nose and lingering on his lips.


    Tears of pain filled her eyes, cascading down her cheeks and trailing to her ears.


    “Is it really nothing to do with love? Can I test it?”