The Billionaire’s Secret Bride

Apparently, there's no such thing as "most embarrassing"—only "more embarrassing."

In this ambiguous position, Sophie felt her face burn like fire. Her heartbeat became erratic and uncontrollable.

Nathan Fu's face turned dark as a storm. He clenched his jaw, his voice low and icy."Sophie, are you doing this on purpose?"

"I—I'm not," Sophie stammered. "My hair got caught on your button. I'm trying to untangle it…"

She raised her hand to her head, attempting to free her hair.

But to Nathan, her soft hands felt like they were roaming all over him—her delicate fingers brushing against his firm waist and abdomen. Even through the fabric of his robe, he could feel the sparks, like tiny electric shocks pulsing through his skin. His taut muscles involuntarily stiffened.

"Sophie, do you even know where your hands are?" he snapped.

Sophie couldn't see exactly where her hair was snagged, and with how flustered she was, her sense of direction was all over the place. She finally realized—mortified—that her hand had been pressing against his abs.

The heat of his skin. The ridges of his muscles. It was too much.

Her mind flashed back to that night in the presidential suite—how she had climbed on top of him, how far they had gone…

Too humiliating.

"I won't touch you anymore," she whispered. "Just… can you help me get my hair free?"

Nathan didn't want to clean up her mess, but if they stayed in this position any longer, something would definitely happen—and he couldn't allow that.

He roughly tugged her hair loose from the button, then threw back the quilt and got out of bed.

"Off. My. Bed." he ordered, his voice thunderous.

Sophie scrambled off and stood facing him. Nathan's narrow eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity. Crimson fury flickered in his dark irises, making her feel as if she were standing before a brewing storm.

She swallowed hard, guilt creeping up her spine.

"I—I didn't know this was your room," she said quickly. "Didn't you tell me to stay away from your nephew? I was trying to avoid him. I panicked and hid in here. Then I… accidentally ended up in your bed."

"I told you to stay away from my nephew," he interrupted coldly, "not to seduce me."

Seduce him?

Sophie looked up, stunned. "I didn't!"

Nathan suddenly stepped forward. His large hands clamped down on her slender shoulders and shoved her back—hard.

Her back slammed into the wall with a painful thud. She gasped slightly, frowning in pain.

Snap.

He braced one hand against the wall beside her head, boxing her in with his tall, imposing body. The air between them crackled with tension. His sharp gaze bore down on her, trapping her in place.

"You're still going to deny it?" he growled. "Then tell me—were you or weren't you in a hotel room with Quentin Sun just now?"

Sophie blinked. So… he had seen her with Quentin?

"I only said that because—"

"I don't want your excuses," Nathan cut her off. "You tease my nephew, check into a hotel room with Quentin Sun, and now you're crawling into my bed. Sophie, do you have any idea what shame even is?"

His voice was cold, laced with biting sarcasm.

That's what he thought of her?

To him, she was just some cheap, shameless woman who threw herself at men.

Sophie's eyes burned, but instead of backing down, she suddenly smiled. Her red lips curled slightly, and her eyes gleamed with a strange light.

"So what if I was seducing you?" she said softly. "Why are you so angry? Is it because you actually were seduced?"

Nathan stiffened. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sophie raised her eyebrows, her expression calm but provocative. "You act like you're above it all. But isn't it true? You're just mad because you let someone like me get under your skin. You're angry because you felt something—and you hate that."

Nathan's eyes darkened.

In a flash, his hand flew to her throat. He grabbed her by the neck, his fingers tight around her delicate skin.

"Sophie, are you trying to get yourself killed?"