Bride of Retribution: Aloof Billionaire's Dominant Game

She ran swiftly, but it was no use. As soon as she lifted her foot to rush forward, Atlas Hallow moved with the swiftness of a hunting panther, taking two steps forward. With a big hand, he clasped Charlotte Miller’s slender wrist and forcefully pulled her over, pressing her against the hood of his car.

Charlotte looked at him, his face full of drunkenness, his eyes filled with a bloodthirsty hostility, extremely terrifying.

”What? Do you hate me so much? So much that you won’t even say goodbye?” His deep, hoarse voice, laden with the scent of alcohol, breathed heavily onto her face, and Charlotte turned away, unwilling to speak more.

”Speak, damn it...” Her expression, as if she’d seen a ghost, only fueled Atlas Hallow’s anger. Staring at her face, captivating enough to incite crime, he felt an urge to tear her apart and swallow her whole.

Charlotte’s wrist was twisted behind her and pinned, her body forced to lean back, her entire being seemed to tremble with pain. The car hood was too hard, and his body was too heavy.

”You’re drunk, let’s talk another day.” Charlotte spoke softly, continually trying to break free.

This woman still wanted to deceive him even now?

Talk another day, if he hadn’t been doggedly following Ethan Baird, she would’ve probably run away to the United States with him by now.

Atlas Hallow laughed coldly, a chillingly wicked smile.

Without an ounce of tenderness, he tightened his grip on her wrist, causing Charlotte to sweat with pain, feeling as if her bones were about to shatter.

”Let go, it hurts...” The pain became unbearable, tears welled up, almost flowing yet held at bay, adding a particularly poignant flavor to it all.

Her pale face with biting lips bore a restrained expression, immensely alluring.

He had once thought of letting her go, but he simply couldn’t. What spell had this woman cast on him?

”Miss Miller, when you were still Mrs. Hallow, being pinned by me like this wasn’t a first, was it still embarrassing?” Atlas Hallow looked at Charlotte’s exquisite face, seemingly drunker still.

He pressed her against the car, leaned down, and whispered in her ear, ”Didn’t you learn your lesson? So you dared to run off with another man at the airport?”

The hot breath, filled with the scent of alcohol, sprayed onto her, making her feel dizzy...

Charlotte’s clear eyes gazed at Atlas Hallow. It seemed like it had been a long time since she last looked at him so closely.

This man indeed stirred an underlying sense of hatred in her.

Charlotte spoke, ”Stop clinging to me, we have no relationship anymore. What do you still want? You casually framed my friends and used every means to harm others. Do you feel accomplished every time you do something bad?”

These words from Charlotte provoked Atlas Hallow into anger.

His jet-black eyes, cold as though frozen, fiercely stared at Charlotte’s pale face.

”You ask if I feel accomplished. I can tell you I do. Your so-called friends can’t beat me, and that’s my sense of accomplishment.” Atlas Hallow’s sharp, thin lips bore a bewitching allure, his hot alcoholic breath brushing against her face repeatedly.

How much alcohol had this man drunk? His tolerance was usually good, how could he be this drunk?

”If I told you, spend a night with me and I’ll let him go, would you do it?” Atlas Hallow spoke with a voice seemingly tempting with a forbidden fruit. But Charlotte knew this was impossible.

Even if she spent ten times with him, Atlas Hallow’s nature would never let Ethan go just like that. Even Oliver Baird, who had no dealings with him, said negotiating any terms with him was pointless.

As Charlotte was about to speak, Atlas Hallow’s fingers pressed against her lips, his eyes carrying a drunken, bewitching smile, though hidden beneath was anger and pain.

”If you said you would, I would hate him more, because even if you were willing to humble yourself with me, you’re offering your body merely to help another man. Charlotte, can anything be more hurtful?” Atlas Hallow’s fingers, with a slight callousness, brushed lightly over her lips.

The softer the touch, the more dangerous it was.

”Who hurt whom? Who deceived whom first? You’re simply a bastard, it was you...” Charlotte really couldn’t understand this man, she shouted, struggling fiercely.