Chapter 4

My silence caused cold sweat to soak through Nate's expensive suit.

He knelt there, frozen in place.

Chris and Cathy were also rooted to the spot, staring in shock.

Finally, I moved.

I raised my bound right hand and made a beckoning gesture towards Nate.

Nate, as if he had been given a reprieve, crawled over eagerly, using his teeth and fingers to clumsily yet swiftly free my wrists and ankles.

As the cloth strips loosened, I sat up.

My silk nightgown slid down, revealing a large expanse of skin.

Nate immediately turned his head, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, not daring to glance at me.

Leisurely, I adjusted my clothes and then looked at Chris.

His face was pale.

"You mentioned making up for me earlier, didn't you?" I asked softly.

Chris shivered. "Juliet... I..."

"What?" I tilted my head slightly, smiling.

"Go on, how do you plan to make up for me?" His lips quivered, but no words came out.

He was so terrified that he couldn't speak.

I shifted my gaze to Cathy behind him.

She stared at me in terror, her eyes filled with jealousy and resentment.

"You said your hands are precious?"

Cathy trembled violently, instinctively hiding her hands behind her back. "I... I didn't mean it like that..."

"Well? Then what did you mean?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You messed up the performance and angered Nate. Now you want my fiancé to deliver me to his bed to apologize for you. Cathy, you are so bad. Even Satan is no match for you."

Cathy was rendered speechless, her face flushed.

Finally, my gaze settled on Nate, still kneeling on the floor.

"Nate."

"Yes!" he responded immediately.

"What do you think we should do now?"

More cold sweat appeared on Nate's forehead.

He knew I was offering him an opportunity, an opportunity to made amends.

He stood up suddenly, the fear from earlier replaced by a bloodthirsty ferocity.

He turned and approached Chris.

Chris retreated in terror. "What... what do you want to do?"

Nate didn't respond. He grasped Chris' neck, lifting him off the floor with one hand.

Chris' feet kicked wildly in the air, his face turning red from lack of oxygen.

Cathy screamed and tried to rush forward, but Nate's two bodyguards held her back firmly.

Nate grabbed Chris by the collar, walked to my bed, and then threw him at my feet like a dead dog.

"Miss Phillips, what do you want to deal with him?" Nate's voice was respectful, a stark contrast to the ferocity he had shown Chris moments ago.