The man’s dark eyebrows were lowered, revealing not even half of his eyes, but his eyes were cold.
He was a very decadent man with flowing black hair.
“Uh.. Excuse me!”
“Shh.”
The fingertip that gently blocked her lips was firm, as if implying he wouldn’t stay quiet if provoked.
For a man with a temperament to effortlessly tear off every shirt button without a hint of remorse, the gesture of tucking away her stray hairs was surprisingly tender.
“No matter what… Won’t you regret it?”
She spit out those words and regretted it. That was what she wanted to say to herself.
A distance so close that a gust of wind could bridge it. The man’s lips, barely touching, curled into a smirk.
“I’m someone who has never experienced regret.”
He was a mysterious person. His expression was completely unreadable.
A marriage contract of six months, at most a year. The conditions proposed by the man were as neat as his appearance.
“So let me ask you one last time.”
The word “last” carried weight.
“Stop, don’t.”
It was a realization that came too late. Too late to escape or resist.
