He asked lightly, his large hand reaching into the warm water, brushing over the marks on her chest.

He carefully examined them; if another man had left marks on her, he swore to destroy him.

"Did someone send you flowers? Throw them away. If you dare accept them again, I’ll cut your hand off."

He took Avery Jane’s hand, her fingers were long and slender, evenly proportioned, with nails like pale white, and the skin on the back of her hand looked both thin and delicate. Under the sunlight, the whole hand seemed almost transparent.

"Such hands are like soft seedlings, skin like curdled cream."

Imagining such a hand reaching out to accept flowers from someone else, it made him want to kill.

Avery Jane shivered again in fear, her small hand visibly trembling in his large one.

Joshua Hughes gently stroked her hair, "Be good, I won’t do anything to you. I’ll just make sure those with ill intentions toward you die miserably, like that little designer; his motives are not pure..."

He spoke in a light and breezy tone, as if he were talking about the nice weather today.

But Avery Jane was still so frightened her face turned pale. This wasn’t a weather issue; his gaze was filled with ruthlessness. She really believed he would kill; it was terrifying.

"Don’t do anything rash." Avery Jane’s cherry lips trembled a bit, "Nothing happened between Beckett Wright and me. I was sick with fever last night; he just took care of me for one night."

Lips almost touching her ear, he whispered, "Tell me, how did he take care of you?"

He wanted to know what exactly happened that night with another man, what was said, what actions were taken.

"I don’t know, I was in a stupor," Avery Jane answered quietly with her head down. She really didn’t know, and was thankful she had passed out; otherwise, saying anything could be troublesome.

This man’s body temperature seemed even hotter than the hot spring water, as if it were going to scorch her delicate skin.

Was she trying to avoid his question? Joshua’s deep eyes watched Avery Jane’s small face, thoughtfully.

Avery Jane only felt the large hand gripping her waist tighten. This man was truly suspicious about certain things.

But what if something had happened between her and Beckett Wright?

Didn’t he have lots of women? He could have many women, yet insisted she follow his rules; society was truly unfair.

If a man had many women, others would probably praise him as impressive, at least wealthy enough to support numerous women.

But if a woman had multiple men, she’d be labeled with various unflattering tags, subject to ridicule and contempt behind her back.

How could you talk about gender equality if such notions didn’t change?

On what grounds did he demand she remain chaste for him? On what grounds did he question her?

Avery Jane thought he was truly a man of unpredictable moods.

She sat in the steamy pool, waiting to accept his angry punishment, yet he did not.

He only silently kneaded her body; such a man was truly frightening, making it impossible to ever predict his emotions, giving her no chance to prepare.

That night, she slept very well, without nightmares.

It was as if there was always a big stove sticking to her side, warming her like a piece of butter on a hot pan, almost melting.

The morning sunlight was lovely, you could almost hear the birdsong outside. A good night’s sleep had her up early.

But she dared not move rashly, only quietly opening her eyes. The man behind her was encircling her waist possessively, the large appendage below, awake before its master, pressing hard against her firm, springy behind.

She could almost feel its pulsing throbs. Holding her breath, she cautiously pried off his large hand, tiptoeing softly off the bed, but just as she sat up, she was swiftly pulled back in an instant.

"Stay with me a little longer."

The man, clearly displeased by being disturbed awake, murmured softly.

The soft form against him was gone, leaving him feeling very uncomfortable.

Avery Jane hadn’t wanted to get up either, after all, the white fluffy duvet was warm and inviting, but lying in the same bed with him was always dangerous.

"Mr. Hughes, I have to go to work. If I’m any later, I’ll be late."