Try Begging

Chapter 83

Campbell, who belatedly learned that the woman was under the desk, kept his mouth shut and placed the envelope in front of Leon.

“You can look at it.”

Anyway, even if she heard it, she wouldn’t know what I was talking about.

“Why are your eyes that color?”

“Mutation?”

“Is that brown hair a mutation too?”

“Because my great-grandmother was a brunette.”

It was not even funny

The woman knew nothing.

The quick-witted Campbell carried on the debrief without directly addressing the woman.

“As the captain instructed, we thoroughly investigated the commander’s public and private actions about 26 to 28 years ago. I also attached the records of the Royal Guard, which was the unit he belonged to at the time.”

Leon put aside the Sinclair matter and opened the envelope containing the commander’s findings first.

“As you can see, I got quite interesting testimony from people close to him at the time. It looks like what you expected was correct.”

“It’s nice to hear that.”

When Campbell finished his report and left, Leon looked for the interview of a close aide Campbell had mentioned in Commander Davenport’s investigation results.

One page and another.

The more he passed, the corners of Leon’s lips went up. He believed in his intuition, although it was reckless to speculate on the color of her unique eyes and hair. And again, his intuition was correct.

‘By the way… what was Angela Riddle’s purpose?’

Leon laughed as he looked around the time of the incident when the root of life was laid down on the stomach of the mother of the woman who was crawling under his desk.

‘The King changed that year.’

His heart started racing. Like watching fresh blood flow through the prisoner’s body, a tingling joy spread through his veins and spread throughout his body. Leon leaned out of his desk and looked down at the woman lying in the sunlight.

One, a steady maid.

Two, a cunning spy.

Third, the first love that left only nightmares.

Fourth, the enemy’s daughter, who he wanted to kill but couldn’t.

Five, a pet dog trying to play on top of its master’s head.

In Leon Winston’s dictionary, no word has a longer definition than ‘Grace Riddle’ though that was not the end.

Six, a child born between the cross of royalists and rebels.

Seven, a descendant born after eating the life of the head of his family.

The fifth definition needed revision.

Grace Riddle was Leon Winston’s dog. Still, she was a hunting dog, not a pet dog—a hybrid hunting dog with a military dog of excellent pedigree as its father.

And the eighth definition… a woman whose existence was his biological father’s weakness.

Thanks to this, Leon Winston, the royalist dog, could reign over the old royalist dog, who was far above him in rank.

He couldn’t be happy.

“What’s wrong?”

The woman, who was lying in the sunlight like a dog rolling in mud, asked, narrowing her brows. Leon leaned over and touched her face.

“Because you’re pretty.”

The woman’s brow wrinkled even more.

“I am not kidding. You’re really pretty.”

To put such a precious card in his hand… If he had loved her, he would have confessed his love by mistake. As he raised his white hand that was gripping the carpet, his lips in sincere gratitude rested softly on the back of her hand.

“Thank you, Miss Riddle.”

No. Should he call her Miss Davenport?

Leon let go of her hand and picked up the leash. The woman pulled her body up with a sullen face as the chains slowly pulled.

Grace obediently sat between his legs. His hands wrapped around the back of her head.

As instructed, she rested her head on his sturdy thighs. Like the touch on her head like a dog, Grace thought. She really didn’t know what was he thinking inside. Why did he suddenly call her Riddle? These days, it was either Bella or puppy, so she was reluctant.

In addition, the sudden, pretty words made her feel uncomfortable.

“You are really pretty, too. You have the sea in your eyes.”

Why did she think of that voice?

Grace shook his head slightly, shaking the voice out of his head. His hand stopped, and a short clicking sound came. His fingers, which had tugged back the hair that had flowed down her cheeks, now traced the curves of her ears.

She remembered her fiancé while in the hands of another man.

Would Jimmy worry about her?

No. He might have failed after trying. Winston’s security was a little tight… but the raid on the camp was a success. Common sense toldher Winston’s security couldn’t be more ironclad than the camp.

The fingertips that slid down her jawline caressed her lips and dug into the gap. Grace thought again as she licked the tip of his thumb.

It was suffice to say that Captain Winston was keeping his maid locked up in an underground torture chamber. If the rumor spread and only reached the ears of Mrs. Winston and the Grand Duke, they would have a chance of winning.

Did they spread a rumor but it doesn’t work? No, if so, Mrs. Winston would have already stormed into the torture chamber.

The man who was playing with a handful of her hair, wrapping and untying it around his fingers, asked.

“What are you thinking about?”

It was at that moment that Grace suddenly realized that she was shaken by Winston’s words and blamed Jimmy.

“Thoughts that kill you.”

There was a chuckle, and the hair that was wrapped around his long fingers was whirled away.

“I really want to kill you, too.”

The tip of his index finger traced a straight line along the nape of Grace’s neck, follow the spot where her pulse beats. That man couldn’t do it. So, even the bloody words of wanting to kill her sounded like screams that he couldn’t do anything because he liked her.

That made her heart feel even colder.

‘What is he asking me to do?’

Grace bit her lips, trying not to let out a surge of emotion.

Loving him was out of the question.

Emotions were entirely up to the person itself, so there was no reason for Grace to take responsibility in any way. She had to repeat these words whenever she suddenly thought that it was her that planted the seed of that tough feeling in that man’s heart.

To her, who was on the verge of surviving at the hands of this person, confusion was nothing more than a satiated game. Those who have many things suffer misfortune because of one thing they do not have.

She was that man’s misfortune.

That wasn’t bad

‘Then, I’ll make sure he won’t have my heart for the rest of your life.’

It was a very easy and effective revenge. The moment she inadvertently smiled, the hand that had been groping for the blood vessels on the back of her neck suddenly grabbed the collar.

“Get up.”

As Winston loosened the shackles, she sat down on her lap, legs apart, obediently. Staring at the shadowed face even in the backlight, Grace’s stomach froze and boiled.

Snap.

The man pulled on his leash. It was an order to kiss him.

Poor master who has her body but not her heart… as per his command.

Grace grabbed his tie and pulled it like pulling on a dog leash. It was a petty revenge.

As she covered the gap between the lips where a laugh leaked out, she pressed the flesh back and thrust her tongue into his teeth. Hugging him by the neck, she then tore off the knot in his tie and grabbed him, wiggling her tongue and stealing his lips as if to prey on him.

It was an aggressive kiss.

Not too long ago, she would tremble with a sense of shame when she was forced to act aggressively. But now, she was starting to feel superior in leading the relationship… even if it was about to turn around in an instant.

“Uung…”

“Haa…”

The guilt of doing with another man what she should have done with her fiancé had dulled over time. It was just what she had to do to live anyway.

And anyway, that fiancé…

Stop.

She tried to blame Jimmy again. In order to get rid of the negative emotions that were seeping through her mind like the venom of a poisonous snake, Grace immersed herself in the disgusting and thrilling thing of mixing her flesh with the poisonous snake.

Her life was full of contradictions.

His hand, which was hovering over her clothes, lifted the skirt. His hand dug straight into the bloomer and gripped her hip roughly.

His arms were wrapped tightly around her body, and the man lifted her from the chair, holding her in his arms. Surprised by the feeling of her body suddenly floating, Grace wrapped her legs around his waist, and their two bodies pressed against each other. It was hot down there.

Winston held her with one hand and pushed something off the desk with the other. As she took a deep breath, her chest compressed with each puff, and the tips of her chest dug into his flesh.

Was it because of the strange friction or that she was suddenly lying down?

Her head was dizzy.

Before the black object spinning in the middle of her vision stopped, her knees widened. There was a rip, rupture, and the tight seam in the middle of the bloomer ripped open with brute force. The initiative passed over in vain.

Goosebumps rose as the hot breath touched the tender inner flesh.

The moment she was startled, the dull focus sharpened, and the shape that was spinning in front of her eyes became clear.