He lets out a short, dark laugh, his thumb stroking her jawline with a mocking tenderness.
"That's why I play rough... and also the reason why I don't do 'gentle.' Because a man like me needs a woman who can take the storm, not someone who's going to break the moment the wind picks up."
"And you... you're starting to realize that, aren't you?"
'I can't believe it... why this man of all people caught my son bullying someone...?' Marielle thought. 'This is the worst fate...! God... fuck you for giving me this...!'
He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in, watching her pupils dilate. Then, his expression shifts from arrogant to chillingly pragmatic.
The playfulness vanishes, replaced by the cold, hard edge of a man holding a winning hand.
"Now," he says, his voice dropping to a deadly, calm whisper. "We have a choice to make... because we aren't done."
