Bride of Retribution: Aloof Billionaire's Dominant Game

”You’re so beautiful, it would be a pity if you weren’t a woman.” Atlas Hallow said meaningfully, ”If you were a man, I wouldn’t let you go either...”

”Wishful thinking. By the way, Atlas, there’s something I want to ask you...” After finishing that large slice of pizza, Charlotte Miller finally felt some energy return to her, her whole body seemed to come to life.

It seemed a bit hard to bring up, but it had to be said.

”Last time you talked about having children, I asked for some time, and you agreed, didn’t you?” Charlotte didn’t want juice, so she stood up and made a cup of hot tea, first handing it to Atlas and waited for him to drink a couple of sips before taking it back and drinking a few sips herself.

”Is there a problem?” Atlas looked at her naturally sharing the drink from the same cup with him. Even the smallest gestures revealed her acceptance of him; actually, a woman’s thoughts can often be glimpsed from these little details.

”You clearly promised me time, but last night you...” Charlotte held the warm cup of black tea, her words were not only shy but also carried a hint of complaint.

”Blaming me, huh?” Atlas pulled Charlotte closer, letting her soft body rest against his chest, finding the situation quite amusing.

Actually, it wasn’t his intention last night; it just felt like he couldn’t control himself.

”If I really get pregnant this time, I’ll have the baby and won’t blame you. But if not, I hope you’ll keep your promise and give me some time. It won’t be too long. I just need to adjust; being Mrs. Hallow is already so sudden. Adding another role might be too much for me to handle.” Charlotte spoke softly, knowing that dealing with a man like Atlas required softness, or she would end up suffering.

”Alright, I promise you.” Atlas lowered his head to kiss Charlotte’s hair, her words making it impossible for him to refuse.

”I have to go now, make sure to rest, and don’t wait for me tonight, okay?” He had an appointment with Mr. Foster and was already late.

Perhaps in this world, the only thing that could make him late, just as Mr. Foster said, was matters involving women.

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”Young Master Hallow, Fifth Young Master is having a massage. You can take a seat in the flower hall.” The housekeeper led Atlas Hallow to the flower hall, where the brightly burning fire pots spread their warmth, driving away the cold that seeped into the bones in the harsh winter.

While Atlas sat waiting, the housekeeper had someone bring freshly brewed Pu’er tea and some exquisite pastries.

He truly didn’t understand how Mr. Foster could enjoy such sweet treats.

Upstairs in Mr. Foster’s room, the young Cecilia Wilson was performing a massage.

His fingers were red from prolonged work and seemed on the verge of exhaustion.

”What’s your name?” Although he felt the pressure on his back weakening, Mr. Foster wasn’t bothered, instead becoming interested in the young man.

”My name is Cecilia Wilson, but Mr. Foster can call me Cecilia, that’s what everyone calls me.” Cecilia spoke softly, never saying much, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

This client was peculiar; he had spent four hours giving him a massage yesterday and logically shouldn’t feel uncomfortable today. Yet, he was called over again in the afternoon.

Now it had been nearly two hours, and his fingers were losing strength.

”Who taught you?” Mr. Foster asked with interest, liking those who were as clean and flavorless as the purest water.

”I learned from my father, then picked up more techniques at the center.” Sweat slowly appeared on Cecilia’s forehead. As his hands grew weak, he exerted more force, and with two large heaters in the room, sweat began to seep through his clothes.

”Very good...” After Mr. Foster spoke, his whole body suddenly trembled.

He felt a clear drop of water fall on his back.

”I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mr. Foster...” Cecilia’s lowered voice was filled with fear and unease.

Master Chase had instructed him that this customer was exceptionally wealthy, yet strange with a severe cleanliness obsession. Sweat accidentally falling on him should be a taboo.

Feeling particularly odd, Mr. Foster casually said, ”No worries,” and said nothing more, waving his hand to indicate the session was over for today.