The Million-Dollar Heart (Percival and Vivienne) novel Chapter 463

Vivienne glanced over and could not help but marvel.

“Damn, he's handsome!”

Mr. Wolf was not wrong; Flynn was a knockout!

He had that refined, aristocratic charm with just a hint of rebellion—undeniably attractive.

A different breed from Percival entirely.

But she still thought Mr. Wolf was the handsomest of them all.

That did not stop her from acknowledging Flynn's appeal, though.

“Gorgeous,” Vivienne said, stars practically twinkling in her eyes.

There it was, her weakness for a pretty face had kicked in!

Isolde wrapped her arms around Vivienne’s neck, her tiny finger pressed to her lips, “Shh, Percival can’t hear you call another man handsome, though I admit, Uncle Flynn is quite a looker.”

Vivienne flipped to another photo—this one a selfie.

The girl in it was turned away, her back to Flynn, who was facing the camera, her hair cascading down like a waterfall.

Isolde peeked at the picture and said, “That’s Uncle Flynn’s girlfriend. I adore her hair—it’s like a cascade.”

Vivienne nodded, about to say more when Percival snatched the phone away.

His fingers danced over the screen, swiftly deleting Flynn from Cecilia’s photo album.

Cecilia yelped, giving Percival a playful slap. “Hey, what are you doing deleting your uncle?!”

In a fit of jealousy, Percival plucked Isolde from Vivienne’s embrace, swiped a few snack bags, and whisked Vivienne away.

Isolde stared at the half-empty snack bag and sighed like a tiny adult. “Boy, jealous men are scary.”

Cecilia shot a glare at Percival’s retreating back. “Just like your father, stubborn as a mule!”

Swept away by Percival, Vivienne snuggled into his embrace, her slender arms wrapped around his neck, allowing him to carry her back to the bedroom.

Once inside, Percival tried to set her down on the couch.

Unexpectedly, Vivienne nimbly shifted her position, straddling him instead of the princess carry.

Percival wrapped his arms around Vivienne’s waist, steadied himself, and sat on the couch, looking up at the mischievous girl above him. His Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes filled with barely restrained passion.

Vivienne perched on Percival's lap, her fingertips teasing his neck. “Mr. Wolf, your uncle really is quite handsome.”

Percival tightened his embrace, pinning her close. “Not as handsome as me.”

“Really?” Vivienne leaned into Percival, her breath brushing his face in a faint whisper.

Overwhelmed, Percival shifted and pressed Vivienne into the bed, his suit jacket draping over her slender frame.

His breathing grew heavy, her legs entwined with his, their gazes deep as the ocean.

Her fingers played restlessly at the nape of his neck, pulling at the exposed collarbone.

She flipped them over the next moment, seated firmly on his stomach.

Leaning down, her lips tenderly quenched the thirst of the land beneath them.

He restrained himself, holding back the intensity of youthful passion about to fade as he approached twenty.

She responded, affirming a commitment recognized at first glance.

Knock, knock, knock—the sound at the door broke through the steamy atmosphere.

Vivienne swiftly stood, sat on the couch, and grabbed a bag of chips.

Percival adjusted his suit, concealing the lipstick mark on his collar.