The Cold Surgeon's Contract Bride novel Chapter 250

His tone was completely flat, but I could feel a suffocating, invisible pressure radiating from him.

I wasn't supposed to be drinking.

But right now, I had no choice.

As he spoke, Ferris poured dark red wine into both glasses.

Suppressing my dread, I picked one up. "If you're in the mood, Dr. Sterling, I'll gladly keep you company."

I tilted the rim of my glass down respectfully, offering a standard toast.

But Ferris simply gave me a cold glance. He didn't clink his glass against mine. Instead, he took a slow sip of his own wine, entirely ignoring my gesture.

He was actively flaunting his superiority.

I reminded myself that I was the one begging for a favor. It was perfectly normal for him to act arrogant. Swallowing my pride, I fully adopted the subservient role. I picked up a piece of his favorite bamboo shoots and placed it on his plate. "These are incredibly fresh. You should try them."

Ferris glanced at his plate but didn't pick up his fork. He took another deliberate sip of his wine and asked casually, "Don't you have anything you want to explain to me, Selena?"

Explain?

I mentally parsed his words, immediately thinking back to the awkward hospital encounter that morning. "Just like Leon said, I was dead drunk last night. Nothing happened between us."

*Clink.* The base of his wine glass hit the marble table with a sharp thud. Ferris gripped the stem of the glass, his predatory gaze locking onto my face. He sneered, "Do you think I'm an idiot, Selena?"

He still suspected me of cheating.

Frustration bubbled up in my chest. "What exactly do you mean by that, Dr. Sterling?"

The sheer injustice of the accusation made my voice crack, pitching higher than I intended.

Because we were colleagues? He was infamous for his strict, unyielding professionalism.

Personally or professionally, I had absolutely zero leverage.

Not to mention, the fragile truce between us had already been utterly shattered.

"Or did you honestly believe that cooking me a single meal would magically change my mind?" Ferris mocked, his voice dripping with condescension as I remained silent. "Seriously, Selena. If you want to make a deal with me, you need to bring a proper bargaining chip to the table."

He poured himself another glass of wine, settling deeper into his chair with the terrifying arrogance of a king holding a peasant's life in his hands.

I stared at the cold light glinting off the cufflinks of his tailored suit. I suddenly noticed that his right hand—the hand that wielded a scalpel with godlike precision—was slowly, methodically stroking the rim of his wine glass.

I watched him, my mind desperately processing his words. After a tense silence, I finally asked, "And what exactly do you consider a proper bargaining chip?"

The man tightened his grip on the glass, swirling the dark crimson liquid with agonizing slowness. He leaned forward, his gaze dark and commanding. "Come sit over here."