The Scorned Heiress: No More Mercy novel Chapter 855

Coen doesn't stop. He keeps walking as if he hasn't heard a word.

Bianca breaks into a jog, finally catching up to him in the parking lot. She reaches out and grabs his arm. "What is your problem? Walking away without talking things out—what kind of man does that?"

Coen halts and turns to face her, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

"Didn't I make myself clear?" he says coolly. "Go back to your drinks. I won't get in your way."

"Who wants to go back to those drinks?!" Bianca snaps in frustration. "Those friends of mine are... whatever, you wouldn't understand even if I told you. I want to go home now. Are you going to give me a ride?"

Coen frowns, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.

Perfect, she thinks. Hesitation means he's softening. Reading the room like a pro, she immediately wraps both of her slender arms around his bicep, her voice dipping into a sweet, coaxing purr. "Come on. You wouldn't really leave me here all by myself, would you? What if I tell your parents?"

"Hmph," Coen scoffs. The audacity of this woman, threatening to tattle to his parents.

But despite his annoyance, he relents. He pops the car doors open and drops a curt, "Get in."

A triumphant grin spreads across Bianca's face like a fox that just stole a treat. She tugs at his arm and scurries over to the passenger side. Only when she is safely strapped in does she let out a quiet sigh of relief. He really scared her for a second there; she genuinely thought he was going to hold a grudge all night.

She sneaks a glance at him as he starts the engine. His jaw is tight, the hard lines of his profile making it clear he is still pissed. Knowing better than to push her luck, she stays quiet, plotting her next move. This man has an infuriating amount of self-control. She is going to have to pull out all the stops to charm him out of this mood. Maybe she'll employ a little seduction once they get to her place. She definitely isn't getting out of this car too quickly.

But her grand plans shatter just as they exit the underground garage. Coen suddenly throws the car into park and steps out.

"...Relax. My car is top-of-the-line. The doors work just fine." Nobody is falling out unless they throw themselves into traffic on purpose.

"You never know! Even the best cars have malfunctions. I'm just being cautious."

When chasing a man, shamelessness is a virtue. Bianca leans even closer, burying her face into his shoulder. She inhales the crisp, masculine scent of his cologne mixed with a faint hint of alcohol. It is pure, intoxicating testosterone.

"I'm going to say this one more time. Move over, or I'm not going to play nice," Coen warns.

"Oh, please don't play nice. You can do whatever you want to me," Bianca whispers, her cheeks flushed, her tone dripping with undeniable flirtation.

Faced with such a stunning woman practically throwing herself at him, most men would have crumbled instantly. The driver in the front seat feels his ears burning. He mentally scrambles to block out the conversation.