Bride Behind The Mask (Frederick and Marguerite)

Chapter 486

Chapter 486

Frederick’s upper body was almost entirely pressed against Marguerite’s body.

He looked down at her, his breath hot and fierce, blowing directly onto Marguerite’s face.

Marguerite’s heart fluttered, and for a moment, she had the wild desire to kiss him.

But she knew she didn’t have the nerve. With a mockingly playful laugh, she taunted him, “Do you enjoy the thrill of

a secret rendezvous? Last time you tried to kiss me in front of Maurice and failed. Are you trying to even the score

today?”

Frederick’s face was expressionless, “Even the score? That should be done face-to-face. What’s the point if it’s

done in secret?”

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“Then let rne call Maurice in.” As Marguerite spoke, she pushed Frederick away with effort, ducked under his arm,

and reached for the door.

Bút suddenly, Frederick scooped Marguerite up from behind with one arm, locked the door with the other, spun

around, and tossed her onto the bed before looming over her.

The sudden closeness made Marguerite’s head spin.

He had clearly stated he didn’t love her, so why was he doing this now?

Marguerite couldn’t understand and was desperate to probe, “Have you never seen me in a wedding dress

before?”

His deep pupils fixed on her, then he lowered his head, brushing the tip of his nose against the side of Marguerite’s

face, his voice husky, “Never.”

“Do I look beautiful today?”

“Yes,” he admitted without pretense. “But I don’t like it.”

“Why not? Is it because I’m not wearing this dress for you?”

Frederick paused, his hands bracing on either side of Marguerite, lifting his eyes to hers.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I think you do have feelings for me, right?” As Marguerite asked, tears suddenly welled up at the corners of her

eyes. Time and again, her tentative reaching out only led to heartache.

“Marguerite, don’t get too clever for your own good, you might just play with fire.”

Marguerite, gathering her courage, hooked her hands around his neck, “What does playing with fire mean? Does

sleeping with

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you count?”

Frederick looked surprised. His perception of Marguerite was still stuck three years in the past, of the innocent,

dedicated, and serene girl she was-not the woman she had become.

Today’s Marguerite made him feel like he didn’t quite know her. But that wasn’t strange.

Three years ago, when he found out that the person who had been scheming behind his back was Marguerite, she

had already ceased to be the girl he knew.

He laughed mockingly, replying, “It counts.”

Marguerite stared at him with wide eyes, persistent, she asked again, “But if you don’t love me, why would you

want to sleep with me?”

“It will be meaningless sex, and it has nothing to do with love.”

In that instant, Marguerite felt utterly defeated. Her hands, which had been around his neck, moved uncontrollably

to caress his face, tracing the line of his nose and lingering on his lips.

Tears of pain filled her eyes, cascading down her cheeks and trailing to her ears.

“Is it really nothing to do with love? Can I test it?”