Find me in your labyrinth (Stella and Jonathan) novel Chapter 3511

"Can you really bear to see her like that, Mr. Foster?"

Carson's lips curved into a half-smile. "You're all underestimating Giselle. If you can actually manage to bully her, I'd say you have some real talent."

With that, he turned and walked away without a backward glance.

Giselle Monet watched his retreating figure. She bit her lower lip, her gaze dropping in quiet dismay.

*

The weekend arrived in a flash. Carson had been out late for a business dinner the night before and slept in, not returning to the family estate until almost noon.

Claire took his coat as he shrugged it off. "Welcome back, Carson," she said with a warm, maternal smile.

"Where's my mother?" Carson asked, glancing toward the living room.

"Mrs. Foster is upstairs."

He gave a brief nod and headed up the stairs.

The study door was slightly ajar. Carson pushed it open, a greeting already on his lips, but he froze.

A girl sat at the desk in a loose, oversized sweater. Her posture was perfect, her profile completely absorbed as she carefully practiced calligraphy.

Sunlight filtered through her loose hair, casting a golden halo that highlighted her luminous, flawless skin.

The door had opened with barely a sound, and she was so engrossed in her work that she didn't notice him at all.

Carson's gaze softened involuntarily. He stepped lightly across the room and leaned in behind her, watching her pen glide across the paper with elegant, deliberate strokes.

Marina sensed a presence and suddenly looked up. Their eyes met.

He was mere inches away, his gaze somber yet intense. A slow smile spread across his face. "So you really do enjoy practicing calligraphy."

Marina's eyelashes fluttered. She lowered her head, dipping her pen in the ink to continue writing.

"Let me help you with the ink," Carson offered, rolling up his sleeves.

Gripping the pen for so long had left a thin layer of sweat on her palms.

"Marina," Carson called out suddenly.

She didn't turn around. Her tone was distant. "Yes?"

He stepped up behind her, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "Are you still mad at me about Kai?"

"No," she said coldly. "You were right. I was just being naive. It has nothing to do with you. You're not responsible—"

Before she could finish, Carson wrapped his arms around her from behind.

Marina frowned, struggling against his grip, but he leaned in, his lips brushing against her temple. "Don't move," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Otherwise, everyone out there will think we're fighting."

"Let me go," she hissed.

"I'm not letting go." His tone was borderline petulant as he pulled her tighter against his chest. "Don't talk to me so coldly. And please, don't treat me like this over Kai."