Masked In Nobility: Secrets Of Mrs. Chavez by Selina Gorges

Samantha was clad in a red silk nightgown, her skin delicate and smooth. Holding a glass of red wine, she turned gracefully to face Zion, who was standing at the door with his eyes tightly shut. Her face was blushed, and she let out a scornful sniff. “Broad daylight? Zion, open your eyes. What’s with the holier-than-thou act? You never said such things when we were together. What’s with the sudden act of virtue now?”

Zion’s ears turned red with embarrassment at those words, as memories of their past affectionate moments flashed before his eyes.

Zion thought to himself, ‘I know all too well how brutal Samantha can be when she confronts someone. Who knows what she might say next if I don’t respond?’ With that thought, Zion slowly opened his eyes.

He saw that Samantha had changed positions, sitting on a chair next to the piano with her long legs crossed, the tips of her. toes lightly touching the floor, her red dress of thin gauze both revealing and concealing.

Zion choked down a hard swallow, trying his best to play it cool, deliberately shifting his eyes away, steering clear of making eye contact with Samantha.

In a somber tone, Zion said, “Samantha, we’ve already broken up. Don’t do this. You’re the Mitchell family heiress, the dream girl for every guy in Betrico. There are plenty of political scions that would line up for a chance with you. I’m not the one.”

With a heart heavy with loss, Zion uttered, “I’m not the one,” in a voice laced with desolation. As soon as he finished, he couldn’t face Samantha; he bowed his head, his fingers clenching into the palm of his hand.

Samantha didn’t show an ounce of anger at his words. Instead, she graced Zion with a smile that was all kinds of captivating. “Zion, you broke up with me on your own. Did you get my consent? I’m the one who starts the game, and I’ll be the one to end it. It’s not your call to cut us off. Got it?”

Beneath Samantha’s smile was a hidden fury. She thought to herself, ‘This jerk still thinks about breaking up? Fine, I’ll make him pay in bed.’

Zion looked at Samantha and said, “Alright, then you say break up.”

Over the years, everyone outside praised him as a gentleman with

her gaze unreadable, and a heavy

she flashed a captivating smile and said, “Alright, if breaking up is what you want, I won’t be the one to hold on tight. I’m on board. Let’s have a drink to sever our ties.” She continued, pressing

the wine glass. He was the one who wanted to call it quits, but now that Samantha was the one walking away, the gut punch of loss left him struggling for

slowly tightening, until after two long minutes, he raised his eyes to meet Samantha’s gaze, a look of lingering reluctance in them. He downed the wine in one swift motion, a tear suddenly escaping from the corner of his eye, plummeting to the floor, and disappearing

be all those piano keys that scrambled his brains. Why make things so complicated

Samantha saw Zion like this, a hint of tenderness welled up in her

glass of red wine. Zion’s eyes were slightly glazed as he looked at Samantha with a longing gaze and

the loose, strands of hair, her wavy tresses pouring down to her waist like a cascade. Glancing at Zion, whose

stop holding back. He went to the sofa and sat down neatly, hands on his knees. Even though he was a man in his thirties, his gaze was as pure

had noticed Zion the moment she first laid eyes on him. She craved that kind of

staring at him in a daze, and asked, “Aren’t you going to sit

moment’s hesitation, Samantha moved over and sat beside Zion. They were close enough that she could reach out and poke his lips

his lips, Zion’s body suddenly tensed up. Samantha had a thing for poking them, and she never seemed to get enough of it. She was well aware of Zion’s sensitive spots and was about to touch his earlobe when, in the next moment, Zion’s cold hand had captured her wrist, his grip gradually tightening. Pressing

She released her grip and said with

can the assertive Samantha

being set quite low, Zion felt a tingling in his heart, as if little bugs were gnawing at

effort. “Samantha, what have you done? This is