Chapter 213 Addiction
Claire smirked mischievously, a glint of triumph in her eyes.
Frederick, feeling the teasing, feather–light touches of her hand, tensed with every flick.
He was General Frederick Hawthorne, head of Kingstown Security Department–a man who commanded authority and respect. Yet here he was, enduring this maddening torment from
a woman.
Worse still, with his presidential campaign in full swing, he couldn’t do anything inappropriate.
Lying back in the driver’s seat, he fixed his gaze on the traffic officer stationed at the nearby intersection.
As long as that officer remained there, he couldn’t act.
But the officer seemed determined to linger, pacing back and forth despite the sparse traffic.
Meanwhile, Claire continued her playful torment.
Her movements, deliberate and infuriatingly light, carried a strange allure. They sank into his skin like poison—intoxicating, addictive.
Time blurred. The officer eventually left his post, but Frederick,
Chapter 213 Addiction
to his own surprise, didn’t push Claire away.
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He had already succumbed, the tension in his body giving way to
a moment of overwhelming release.
When it was over, Claire, seemingly satisfied and utterly drained, collapsed against him and drifted into sleep.
Frederick frowned, then sighed. Gently, he shifted her to the passenger seat, buckled her seatbelt, and straightened his clothes. Without a word, he started the car and drove back to
Halfmoon Manor.
The next morning, Claire stirred, her body aching in unfamiliar
ways.
Groaning, she pressed a hand to her temple.
Drinking that much had clearly been a terrible idea. Her head throbbed in protest as fragments of the previous night’s events
swirled in her mind.
She sat up, only to bump into someone. Turning, she froze.
Frederick.
In an instant, the memories came crashing down. She had gone out drinking with Antony to celebrate, but then Frederick had shown up.
They argued. She got into his car. And then…
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A chaotic reel of intimate, heated moments played in her head, making her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
She couldn’t believe it.
While drunk, she had actually dared to tease Frederick like that. Worse, she could still remember the inexplicable thrill of it all.
Frederick’s sharp, unwavering gaze cut through her spiraling thoughts.
“Claire,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous. “How do you plan to explain yourself for last night?”
His hand shot out, fingers hooking under her chin to pull her closer.
Still half–panicked, Claire stammered, her voice small, “Explain? What’s there to explain?”
“Claire, you do realize how many women in Kingstown would give anything to end up in my bed, don’t you?” Frederick’s lips curved into a smirk as his hand tilted her chin, pulling her down against him. “Or have you conveniently forgotten what you did last night? Shall I remind you?”
Claire froze, her eyes wide with shock.
She hadn’t blacked out last night; every single detail was crystal clear.
Her face turned crimson, the kind of deep red that made her
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want to vanish into thin air. Embarrassment flooded her, but it was quickly overtaken by panic.
If Frederick decided to repay her for everything she had done to him, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
She knew him too well. Frederick would be more ruthless, more calculated, and far better at making her regret her actions.
She forced out an awkward laugh, trying to compose herself. “Haha, Frederick. You’re a decorated General, head of Kingstown Security Department. Surely you wouldn’t stoop to squabbling with a weak, defenseless woman like me. Right?”
She swallowed hard, pushing forward with desperate charm. “And besides, I was drunk last night. Whatever I did wasn’t intentional–it was just some harmless drunken madness. Surely you wouldn’t hold that against me…”
Her voice trailed off, the cornered expression on her face betraying her inner turmoil. Now wasn’t the time to fight back; survival came first.
Frederick’s sharp gaze darkened. “You’re right, Claire. I am a General. And I do run all of Kingstown Security Department. Which means I’m certain you’ve lost your mind to dare cross me.” His voice was low, calm, and utterly menacing.
Claire’s heart sank. He hadn’t forgotten a single detail from last night–not the threats she made, nor the way she used his
presidential campaign and public image against him. Now, here she was, trying to play the innocent kitten.
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As if he’d fall for it.
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“What do you mean, cross you? I was just drunk!” she snapped, straightening up to feign indignation. “If anything, you’re the one who overstepped. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how far you went last night! And I didn’t even call you out for it. Honestly, Frederick, for such a big, important man, you’re unbelievably petty.”
She shot him a glare, her cheeks still burning.
The memory of the metallic tang on her lips from last night flashed in her mind. This man–this infuriating man—had taken full advantage, yet here he was acting like she had wronged him!
Claire straightened her shoulders. She might be cornered, but she wasn’t helpless.
“Besides,” she added coolly, “I’m your fiancée now, aren’t I? Whatever you’re planning to do to me, don’t forget how that looks to the world. What can you really do, Frederick? Hmm?”
Her voice held a subtle defiance now, the same one she had sharpened to survive four brutal years in prison.
What hadn’t she endured in those years? Whatever Frederick thought he could throw at her, she’d survive it. And she’d smile through it, too.
» After Divorce, My General Husband
