Chapter 8 [7]

She gripped the edge of the table tightly. One of her hands touched the area on her forehead that had hit the table. She felt something oozing around her temple. And indeed, there was a potentially wide wound there. Blood began to soak her palm.

"You disrespectful bitch!" Beatrice couldn't accept it. Despite the lingering dizziness, she tried to get up.

"Oh! You dare to mess with me?!" Bella clenched her fists, glaring at Beatrice with sharp, disdainful eyes full of hatred.

"Why should I be afraid?" Beatrice didn't flinch at all. She was actually waiting for this annoying woman who disturbed her sleep to come closer.

"You damn slut!!!" Bella swiftly threw a powerful slap that landed on Beatrice's cheek. However, Beatrice promptly grabbed Bella's hand, tightly restraining it while the woman stared at her with intense hatred.

"Don't think you can slap me, you cheap woman!"

Bella's eyes widened in disbelief. What did she just say? Cheap?

"You!" Bella quickly released Beatrice's grip, trying to pull or hit the girl again. Unfortunately, Beatrice didn't stay idle either. Regardless of the pain that still lingered throughout her body, especially her forehead, she fought back against Bella.

They wrestled with each other, pulling each other's hair and cursing fiercely. They used their hands and feet to attack each other. Whenever there was an opportunity to grab Bella's clothing, Beatrice did so without hesitation, tearing the tight shirt Bella was wearing on the side.

Similarly, Bella also targeted Beatrice's sleepwear. The corner of Beatrice's lip bled from Bella's slap, while Bella's eye showed a bruise from Beatrice's punch.

Both Beatrice and Bella were panting, gasping for breath due to their actions, but neither of them wanted to give in. Beatrice even disregarded the bandage covering her wound on her chest.

Their clothing no longer properly covered their bodies. Beatrice quickly scanned her surroundings. What else could she give to Bella, who looked beaten and bruised by her? If they were to look in the mirror, Beatrice was sure they would appear similar; with many wounds and bruises.

The closest object to her was a plate that had been on the corner of the table since last night. Without hesitation, she grabbed it and threw it at Bella, who was also preparing to throw a nearby ornament.

They continued to wrestle, neither of them willing to back down. Beatrice, fueled by her frustration towards Sam, finally found the perfect outlet. Meanwhile, Bella, consumed by jealousy, didn't run out of energy to vent her emotions.

Until...

"How long are you going to destroy my room?!"

***

Beatrice winced as the cotton ball, soaked in antiseptic, nearly touched the corner of her lip.

"Miss," said the weary servant who had been instructed to treat Beatrice. Since her master gave the order, the girl refused to cooperate.

It was unclear how many times she had rejected treatment. She also had plenty of work to do in the kitchen, but because this was a direct order, she couldn't dare to object, and there had to be results. Although the most noticeable was the well-bandaged forehead, there were still other wounds, especially the injured corner of her lip.

"Miss, please don't make it difficult for me," she said, once again offering the cotton ball.

"I can do it myself." Beatrice snatched the cotton ball along with the mirror that was lying on the table. "You can go back. I'm fine."

"Miss, you're not fine. It's a problem for me if everything isn't treated."

"Isn't it too troublesome?" Beatrice scowled.

"Can't you stop being stubborn? You're lucky you're being treated instead of being sent to the room downstairs as punishment for daring to touch Bella."

Beatrice looked up. Before her stood the man who had stared at her with eagle-like intensity, with an air of arrogance. Sam's sudden arrival also caused the servant to immediately step aside.

"Just put me in there. I don't care," Beatrice retorted, crossing her arms.

Sam sighed. Did the girl think he couldn't put her in there? She occasionally needed to understand the meaning of punishment. "Is that what you want?"

Beatrice still didn't avert her gaze. She felt it was necessary to challenge Sam's eyes. Even as he closed the distance between them, Beatrice still refused to shift her gaze. She hadn't forgotten how Sam mercilessly marked her chest. She still hadn't forgotten.

When Sam's hand once again gripped her face tightly, Beatrice still didn't want to end her defiance. Although her neck began to ache as Sam purposely made her look up to maintain eye contact, Beatrice wouldn't utter a single complaint.

"I like brave girls. Those who don't avert their gaze unless it's toward me. Just as I want," Sam smirked. "But there's one thing you need to know." This time, he slightly lowered his head to whisper as softly as possible. "You're making me even more impatient to bed you."

"Seems like that damn thug only has genitals in his brain," Beatrice said without hesitation.

Although her voice wasn't very clear, she knew that her recent remark had provoked the anger of Noah Samuel.

"So, you're challenging me, huh? I was waiting for your chest to heal, but because you underestimate me like this, don't blame me if I get rough."

Beatrice wasn't given a moment to catch her breath, as Sam greedily brushed his lips against her injured mouth. Beatrice's mind suddenly focused on Sam's previous statement. Rough.

What did he mean by that?

***

Originally, Sam did intend to restrain himself from touching Beatrice. Since he got lost in the depths of her doll-like eyes, he swore to obtain that girl no matter what it took. Including using his slick tactics. He bombarded Wayne with numerous loans, which were accepted with a cheerful face. Who wouldn't like receiving a loan to fuel their gambling hobby?

Moreover, Sam was the kind of man who always got what he wanted. Not just power, but women as well. He only had to point out the type of woman who would accompany him tonight. And most of the time, those women willingly and happily spread their legs for Sam to mount.

But with Beatrice, for some reason, something was different. Something that couldn't be easily subdued. Something that made Sam half-crazy with curiosity. He could ignore the pain caused by his actions yesterday and satisfy his curiosity about Beatrice's body.

Ah... Sam was thinking too much. Since when did his sentimental feelings surface like this?