The Cold Surgeon's Contract Bride novel Chapter 301

Ferris tossed me into the car.

When my heels caught in the crevices of the leather seats, I caught the scent of rubbing alcohol mixed with beta-propiolactone disinfectant clinging to Ferris's lab coat.

Looking up, I watched him peel off his silver-rimmed glasses, the motion aggressive and raw.

The gentlemanly, meticulous top surgeon of Neurosurgery from the banquet hall now had bloodshot eyes, burning with a predatory intensity.

The man who rarely showed any emotion was clearly furious.

"What, you didn't want to leave the party?" The veins on the back of his hand bulged as he yanked at his tie, his movements carrying the same tense tremor he had during delicate microsurgery. "Did you want to go back and finish that waltz?"

I stared at him in utter bewilderment and sighed. "I was just following banquet etiquette. Does Dr. Sterling have a problem with that?"

"Banquet etiquette doesn't require you to flirt around on the dance floor!"

Flirt around?

I narrowed my eyes, using my last shred of sanity to defend myself. "You were the one who wanted to waltz, Ferris. How am I the one in the wrong for following the rules? Why don't you check the rearview mirror and see how you look right now?"

His expression froze, a deep frown creasing his forehead as he stared straight at me.

Even though I had agreed to be his date, the entire situation at the banquet tonight had made me somewhat uncomfortable. And Ferris, usually so composed and experienced, was acting incredibly childish and dramatic tonight.

Thinking of this, I met his gaze and asked bluntly, "So, Dr. Sterling, could it be that you're jealous?"

His cold fingers landed on my shoulder. Without any warning, he swept my dress aside, revealing a patch of bare skin.

I could clearly see his Adam's apple bob. Just as I was about to refuse, the cold scent of cedar wrapped around me. The cologne he had worn for the past three years now felt like a poisoned blade against my throat.

I tried my best to resist, but he pinned my thrashing legs down with one knee. My hands brushed past his tie and pressed against his taut back, feeling the muscles I had once traced with my fingertips now coiled with a dangerous tension.

With him so close, I could see the red rimming his eyes. His grip on my jaw was punishing. "Think carefully. Your uncle Silas's surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning."

Every word he spoke felt laced with shattered glass.

I looked at him in silence. A suffocating wave of despair washed over me, and the refusal caught in my throat.