He fell in love with the girl he had a one-night stand with. When her true nature revealed, he hated himself for loving her and decided never to see her again. However, his fate took an unexpected turn and entangled him in a contract marriage with h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As the evening approaches, we're on the private jet, seated side by side but worlds apart. Paris is a city of romance, and I think of how ironic it is to go there with Grace.
As the air hostess brings the wrong drink for her, Grace rebukes her, raising my anger. "What the hell? Didn't I make myself clear to you to bring red wine for me? You all are so useless-"
I can't bear her behaviour any longer and interject.
"Shut up, Grace." I snap, my tone harsh and final.
"Please, I don't want your lecture again, Mr Grey." She retorts in annoyance before turning her attention back to the air hostess.
"Now, why are you still standing here? Go bring my drink," she orders with no regard for basic courtesy, and the air hostess leaves after bowing to her.
"You can't behave like this with her, Grace." I chide her.
She rolls her eyes. "Why? Is she your girlfriend?"
"Shut up." I mutter, increasingly frustrated by her antics.
"I'll shut up if you stop lecturing me all the time." She folds her arms across her chest in attitude.
"You're in my private jet, Grace, so you must treat all the staff here with respect." I instruct her in a firm tone.
She questions my authority. "What if I don't? Will you push me out of the plane at 30,000 feet?"
I let out an exasperated sigh. "No, but I can certainly lock you in the bathroom for the rest of the journey if you keep this up."
Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and a smirk dances across her face. "Okay, sir. I'll be on my best behaviour, and I promise to take your permission for every little thing."
I wonder now what's going on in her tiny mind.
The next moment only, she begins eating up my mind with her unnecessary and stupid questions. Her behaviour is beyond irritating, and I'm already regretting this trip to Paris.
"Sir, can I move my finger?" she mocks, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Sir, can I lick my lips? Sir, can I cough?" Every question comes with a smirk that pushes my patience to its limits.
I've had enough. "Grace, if you don't stop this nonsense right now, you'll regret it."
She doesn't seem fazed by my threat. "Sir, can I breathe?" She teases, laughing, enjoying pushing my buttons.
I reach my limit and hold her arms in a firm grip, my voice low and menacing. "Shut up, Grace, or else I'll gag you with my hankie."
Her eyes widen in horror, and for the first time, it seems like my warning has had an effect. She stops irritating me with her stupid questions and finally falls silent.
However, it shocks me. Why did she give up on our fight so easily? For the first time, I saw fear in her eyes.
But I'm so delighted to finally find a way to control her.
