Her knees buckled as someone suddenly scooped her up by the waist.
Beauty kicked her long legs in futile protest, but the man carried her effortlessly into the grand hall without so much as a flicker of expression.
The onlookers quickly averted their eyes, pretending not to notice—no one dared interfere with Lucas's affairs or risk his wrath.
Her body landed heavily on the bed, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs.
Before she could utter a word, his lips crushed against hers, sealing any protest.
Paralyzed, she could only lie there, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.
Sensing the wetness on her face, Lucas pulled back, his dark eyes blazing like a hawk's as they locked onto hers.
A vein pulsed angrily at his temple.
"Where did you go with that Dyson today?" he demanded, voice a low, dangerous growl.
The sudden outburst made Beauty flinch.
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, drawing blood, but she refused to speak, letting the tears fall unchecked.
