She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 8

Stepping into his personal space, she playfully traced one of his shirt buttons, her red lips curving upward. "There's a gathering this Saturday. Harrell is still in town, so I invited him, but he hasn't replied yet. Could you tell him to come? It would be the perfect chance for me to pitch him the project."

She purposely used his cousin's first name to sound as chummy as possible, practically cementing her status as the future lady of the house.

She pressed one of her legs suggestively against his tailored slacks. If he showed even the slightest hint of interest—if he just grabbed her waist—she wouldn't put up a fight. She desperately craved the friction of him against her, her mind flooded with the image of him looking down at her, his deep eyes glazed with lust.

Luther stared down at her face. After a long beat, he offered a mild smile. "He hates those kinds of social events."

A sharp stab of disappointment hit Jolie.

She wasn't sure if it was because of Harrell's cold arrogance or Luther's frustrating restraint. He clearly wanted a physical release—he had been taking care of it himself when she walked in! Didn't it torture him to suppress it all the time? He was in his physical prime. Was he rejecting her because he genuinely didn't want her, or because he cherished her so deeply he refused to let her bear the ugly title of a mistress?

Luther placed the wine bottle back into the cabinet, looking ready to leave.

Pushed to her absolute limit, Jolie finally blurted, "When are you going to divorce her?"

He threw her a single, unreadable look.

She instantly clamped her mouth shut, too afraid to cross the line.

At the end of the day, he was the one holding all the power.

...

Meanwhile, Hilda pushed open the door to her mother's hospital room, freezing when she heard Luther’s voice.

She thought she was hallucinating, but stepping inside proved it was incredibly real. Luther was sitting by her mother's bed, peeling an apple with effortless charm. He looked like the most devoted, filial son-in-law in the world.

Mothers always had a soft spot for handsome sons-in-law. Tall, charismatic, and devastatingly elegant, capturing a woman's affection was a walk in the park for him. Even with all the doubts and frustrations her mother harbored, he had managed to coax a genuine smile out of the sickly woman, washing away her usual gloom.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice tight.

He maintained his flawless smile, acting completely natural. "Work was light today, so I thought I'd drop by early to check on Mom. Why didn't you mention she was getting treatment in the city? If I had known, I wouldn't have waited this long to visit."

He stepped into her personal space, his chest mere inches from her back, lowering his voice to a lethal murmur.

"I'll be waiting for you in the car downstairs. We're going to have a nice, long chat."

"You know... I'm guessing your mother still has no idea you popped out a kid."

The color drained from her face. She whipped around to snap at him.

But he was standing far too close. Her lips accidentally brushed right against his strong jawline. The contact sent a violent jolt through the sexually repressed man, his entire body going rigid. Hilda wasn't an innocent young girl anymore; she instantly recognized the dangerous shift in his demeanor. She bit her red lip. "Luther..."

Just as the tension peaked, her mother walked in, worried about what was taking so long.

She stepped right into the sight of Luther having her daughter practically pinned against the counter.

In an instant, the air turned incredibly awkward.