Chapter 22

Celine lay beneath Adam. Her long, jet-black hair spilled across the bright red sheets of their marital bed—a bed personally arranged by Adam’s grandmother. The crimson fabric highlighted her fair, luminous skin, creating a sensual scene.

He imagined her under another man. Adam clenched his fist. He wanted to explain that he'd sent her an antidote last night, not a man, but the words caught in his throat.

Celine looked up and said coldly, "Get off."

Adam didn't move. Celine struggled. The memory of him bringing Carly to Westwood Villa last night made her recoil. "Adam, get off me! You were with Carly last night! Did you even clean yourself afterward?"

Adam remained silent, pinning her hands to the bed. His voice dropped to a stern warning: "Celine, stop moving!"

She only struggled harder. Her defiance reminded him of her teasing the previous night, when she'd clung to him, her lips exploring his. That memory ignited a spark of desire.

Celine noticed the change immediately. She froze, her wide eyes staring at him in shock. "Are you—"

Adam cursed, quickly releasing her and sitting up. "I'm not!"

Celine sat up. "But—"

Adam interrupted with a sharp look. "Celine, is all this anger because I spent last night with Carly, not you? What are you thinking? Did you actually believe I would touch you?"

Celine's face went pale. His words were a slap, deeply humiliating. The feeling she'd sensed earlier was a delusion. He felt nothing for her.

Standing, she retorted, "If that's the case, then don't concern yourself with the men I choose to spend time with!"

Adam's face darkened. "You!"

Seeing his anger, Celine smiled. "Let me know when you're ready to finalize the divorce. Until then, you can do whatever you want, and so will I. We'll each play our own game." Her clear, expressive eyes drifted to his thin lips. "Oh, and maybe work on your kissing skills when you have the time. Do you even know how to kiss, Mr. Alvarez?"

She turned and walked out.

Adam remained seated, his chest rising and falling heavily. A storm of unexplainable anger and gloom engulfed him. That damned woman! What was wrong with his kissing skills? Why did she keep mentioning it?

He laughed sarcastically, realizing her tactic. It was a ploy to provoke him, just like her earlier insinuations about his masculinity. Her tricks hadn't changed.

He reminded himself that a woman like Celine—shallow, beautiful, but without substance—wasn't his type. The fact that he'd felt desire for her twice was simply a reflection of normal male instincts.

His phone rang. The melodic ringtone broke the silence. It was Carly.

Adam adjusted his expression and answered. "Hey, Carly."

Her cheerful voice filled the phone. "Adam, come to the bar quickly! Nathan just got back from abroad. Did you forget to throw him a welcome party?"