Unrivaled Dragon Lord novel Chapter 4

Surprised for a short moment, Maxwell forced an awkward smile. "Don't worry, President Greta. I didn't see anything."

Greta looked down at her exposed, impressive breasts and got angrier. The damned bastard had stripped her to her pink bra and claimed that he hadn't seen anything!

Greta looked up at Maxwell grimly and clenched her teeth, seething in anger.

Not only had he carried her, but also took off her clothes. Most importantly, she had fallen asleep because she was too tired last night. She had no idea what this bastard had done to her. She couldn't remember what had happened.

"Madam, breakfast is ready." Looking at her icy face, the man blurted out.

"Get out. I want to change my clothes." Greta ordered coldly.

"Alright." He gave her an obsequious smile and walked out of the bedroom.

"Bastard," mumbled the lady. She always wanted to get rid of him, but never got a chance, which left her in a sulk.

Soon, Greta elegantly went down the stairs in a light dress and sandals.

The lady was in excellent shape and the dress brought out her flawless long legs. Maxwell knew he would never get tired of those legs.

With a pair of sharp eyes, Maxwell automatically cast a glance at her alluring breasts under the thin dress.

"What are you looking at?" Noticing Maxwell's peculiar gaze on her, she scolded him in anger and embarrassment.

"President Greta, I found that you look even more beautiful without makeup," he complimented with an ingratiating smile. Greta glared at the man, almost turning nauseous because of her disgust for him.

Greta took a glance at the hearty breakfast he had prepared. There were sandwiches, fried eggs, and meat porridge on the table. He almost made all the breakfast she knew.

To make the breakfast, Maxwell had gotten up at five o'clock and had been busy for an hour. Few people in the western underworld were lucky enough to have breakfast cooked by the Dragon Lord himself.

In the west, Maxwell had hired several top Michelin chefs to cook for his brothers.

But his kindness, on the contrary, earned him more disdain from his wife. In Greta's opinion, men should put their careers first and work hard instead of acting like Maxwell, who was willing to be a househusband in a wealthy family for the sake of 20,000 a month!

Greta crossed her legs as she enjoyed the breakfast. "Don't ever touch me again!" she warned coldly.

"Alright." Maxwell nodded in ingratiation.

Greta snorted and went on with her breakfast, though she didn't have much appetite.

She had no appetite because the issue of the Kramer Group hadn't been resolved yet and it almost became her biggest concern.

After taking a few mouthfuls of food, Greta put down her bowl, stood up elegantly, and said, "I'm having dinner with someone tonight and will be back later. There's no need to prepare dinner."

"Understood." Maxwell watched as the beautiful lady walking away from the corridor on the second floor. His flattering smile faded, replaced by an unreadable one.

...

At 9 pm, Fabian sat in the private room of the Shangri-La Hotel with his legs resting on the wine table. He flipped through pictures of Greta on his phone and smirked.

Soon the lady would arrive, and Fabian was well-prepared already. He would adopt a civil move first. If Greta refused to spend the whole night with him, he would knock her over before bringing her to the room upstairs and doing whatever he wanted to her.

Fabian had coveted Greta for a long time. He had courted her honorably at the beginning, but she did not even cast a glance at him. She kept in touch with him only because of their business partnership.

Fabian stared at the curvy woman on the screen of his phone with a sinister smile on his lips. He was sure he would win the woman over tonight.

He had heard that she was married, but it seems that she married a worthless husband. Fabian had never seen Greta with her husband. The man's probably a good-for-nothing househusband!

Fabian wondered if he should take some pictures of Grate to her husband after they had sex. He wondered if the man would complain!

Then the room door was opened. A female secretary at the door reminded Fabian, "Mr. Fabian, President Greta is here."

"Let her in." said the man, standing up.

Out of the corridor came the sound of high heels on the ground, and then a charming woman appeared at the door of the room.

Greta walked in wearing a pair of exquisite silver high heels. Fabian's eyes narrowed, desires flashing in the depths of them.

She was in a thin, black lace dress, under which her fair skin was almost visible. Her long, smooth legs were very attractive.

"President Greta, welcome. Please have a seat." Fabian rubbed his hands, his gaze almost gluing to Greta's long legs.

Greta walked over leisurely. Lured by her charming temperament, Fabian almost wanted to throw himself at her feet.