Bride Behind The Mask (Frederick and Marguerite)

Chapter 462

Marguerite fumbled with her seatbelt. She was confused.

Frederick, it seemed, didn’t dislike her as much as she had imagined.

A small thrill of victory zipped through her as she pondered this.

But then, as if on cue, fat snowflakes began to flutter down from the sky, quickly blanketing the streets and bringing traffic to a standstill, trapping the two of them on the road.

Marguerite had dashed out in such a rush that she only threw a peacoat over her usual dress, she didn’t even put on socks.

She felt a chill creeping in, her hands, now rosy with the cold, rubbed together for warmth.

Then came the “click” of a button being pressed, and the next thing she knew, a wave of warm air enveloped her. Suddenly, her heart felt a touch warmer, and she turned to the man beside her to ask, “Are you cold, too?”

“Mhm.” Frederick’s reply was terse, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, a picture of icy detachment.

Yet, the next moment, his eyes inadvertently flicked towards Marguerite’s exposed ankles, just beyond her boots, and his expression tightened ever so slightly.

In truth, Marguerite wanted to ask if Frederick had turned on the heat just for her, but his response made her feel like she was reading too much into it.

the snowy scene outside seemed more enchanting.

was secretly grateful for the blizzard that had stranded them together, cocooned in the tight space of the car, making Frederick seem so much more within

aware it was an illusion, but she

go ungranted, and Maurice Winston’s ill-timed call

this, Maurice had been sending Marguerite a bunch of

peace inside the car, forcing her

back?” Maurice’s irritable voice was unmistakable, even

it to you where I am?”

are you playing at? I know you’re with Frederick!

at Frederick, who had started the engine, and only then realized that the traffic had begun to

there.” Marguerite hung up,

and she didn’t feel like explaining.

to be taking her home. Instead, he took a turn at the next

was puzzled. “Aren’t we going

gaze, his eyes deep and unreadable. “Dinner first.”

blurted out a suggestion. “How about the Bluebell

the place where Frederick had intended to confess his feelings to her three years ago, and she wanted

decision not to take her home didn’t seem to bother her. On the other, why was she so eager to go to Bluebell Bistro? He

himself pulling up to the Bluebell Bistro.