Bride behind the mask novel (Marguerite) novel Chapter 622

Marguerite was utterly confused, her brain struggling to keep up with Frederick's twisted words.

Was he actually drunk or not?

He claimed he was tipsy, but his eyes and actions screamed another truth—

He was very much sober! Was his whole act at the diner just a facade?

He was conscious the entire time, conscious when she brought him to the hotel, when she wiped his face, and when she tenderly traced the lines of his features with her fingertips.

What did he mean by his earlier comment about man being drunk and not drunk?

Marguerite's thoughts were spinning so wildly she was on the verge of a mental implosion, completely oblivious to the fact that her hands were now captured and gently pinned above her head.

His warm breath fanned her face, causing her to blurt out uncontrollably, "You're not drunk at all, are you?"

He smirked ambiguously, "Hmm."

"So what is it that you want to do now?" Her voice trembled as she spoke, her throat dry from the swallowing that betrayed her anxiety while she waited for his response.

"What do you think?"

What did she think?

Marguerite knew exactly what Frederick meant, but she couldn't find the words.

It felt so strange her to take the lead in situations like this. Her pale face was a canvas of complexity that hinted at a trace of fear, stirring a pang of sympathy in Frederick.

In his memory, nothing had ever happened between them. Not even once.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he released Marguerite, "I don't take advantage of people, it's not my style. You should go."

Go?

She had finally let her guard down, lying beneath him after a monumental internal battle!

When he had moved in close just moments earlier, she hadn't even thought to resist.

But now he was telling her to leave, leaving Marguerite feeling hollow inside.

Maybe it was the charged atmosphere that made rational thought impossible for her.

"This may not be your style, but... can I take advantage of you?"

Marguerite felt terrible about herself, but she had no regrets when it came to Maurice.

Yet, she knew she must be head over heels for Frederick; otherwise, why would she replace Maurice's face with his?

"Frederick, tell me, you never planned on marrying Yuna, did you?" Marguerite's voice was husky and strangely alluring.

Frederick buried his head in the crook of her neck, his lips igniting a trail of heat as he answered, "No."

Relief flickered in Marguerite's heart at his confirmation.

Her hands roamed across his sturdy back, and she probed further, "I kept testing you about marrying Yuna, and you let me misunderstand on purpose. Was it for revenge?"

Without hesitation, he replied, "Yes."

Marguerite's body tensed, and she suddenly bit her lower lip, halting his advances.

He propped himself on his arms on either side of her, reluctantly pulling away, his eyes flashing with a hint of annoyance from the extinguished desire.

Then, he heard her soft and trembling voice, filled with unease, "I'm with you because I love you. But you—do you make love to me out of love, or out of revenge?"