Sweet But Jealous

Chapter 4: Collision Course (4)

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, pulling her into a quieter corner.

"Felt like coming," she replied airily.

"This is pointless." Fu Tingchuan glared, repulsed. "Who are you trying to embarrass? However much you fuss, this divorce is happening."

"You think I'm here to catch you cheating?" Qu Yan looked at him incredulously. "An already unfaithful man isn't worth the effort."

Fu Tingchuan's expression darkened.

"Relax, I'm just here to play." Qu Yan offered a helpful tip. "Do me a favor: pretend you don't know me. Don't mention I'm your wife. Wouldn't want your little darling getting jealous."

Fu Tingchuan's face turned livid, fury choking his words.

Unconcerned with his reaction, Qu Yan spun away lightly, slipping past him towards the crowd. Passing the entrance to an adjoining private room, she paused.

Huh?

What luck.

Inside the private room, two men conversed over cigars. Qu Yan caught the older man saying deferentially, "Young Master Bo, those rats have been dealt with."

The younger, strikingly handsome man replied coldly, "Tell them this mercy is their chance to redeem themselves."

"Understood!" the older man nodded hastily.

The younger man suddenly turned, his gaze landing on the petite figure peeking through the doorway. The audacious woman met his eyes... and stuck out her tongue in a playful grimace.

Qu Yan sauntered boldly into the room after her stunt. "Sir, you still owe me compensation for hitting me."

Bo Siyan's expression remained impassive, offering no acknowledgment.

The older man beside him bowed slightly. "Young Master Bo, shall I handle this?"

Bo Siyan waved a dismissive hand. "Unnecessary. Leave us."

The older man retreated, closing the door discreetly behind him.

Qu Yan smiled sweetly, gesturing to her neck. "Your window nearly decapitated me here."

Bo Siyan gave her a cool glance. "Did it?"

"Indeed." She tilted her head, presenting her neck. "See? A red mark?" She leaned closer. A unique scent of roses enveloped her – not cloying perfume, but something inherently feminine and alluring. Her neck arched, exposing skin like fine porcelain, delicate and pale, seemingly fragile enough to snap.

Bo Siyan's dark eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. This peculiar woman stirred a faint, dangerous impulse within him.

"See it?" Qu Yan straightened, meeting his gaze squarely. "Proof of your crime. And when your car hit me, I scraped my knee." She lifted her right leg, hiking her red skirt just enough to reveal a patch of snow-white skin above her knee, marred by a raw scrape beaded with blood like crimson rouge against the porcelain. The contrast – pale skin, vibrant red dress, the glimpse of thigh – was undeniably provocative.

A shadow flickered in Bo Siyan's eyes, but his voice turned colder. "Proof? Then I shall deliver you to the police."

Qu Yan lowered her skirt. "Fine. Let's go now." She promptly looped her arm through his.

The tall, imposing man stiffened slightly. He disengaged her arm. "Enough. If you seek wealthy prey, the lounge is full of heirs."

Qu Yan pouted, shaking her head stubbornly. "No. It has to be you." She meant it. If she was gifting Fu Tingchuan horns, she'd pick the most appealing target. This man wasn't just exceptionally handsome; the aura of lethal authority and innate dominance around him was unmistakable. He was undoubtedly the apex predator here.

"Why me?" Bo Siyan's gaze was sharp.

"Because it was love at first sight." Her reply was glib, accompanied by a sweet, dimpled smile.

"A liar," Bo Siyan scoffed coldly. He turned, long strides carrying him out of the room.

Unfazed, Qu Yan trailed him, sauntering out into the main lounge. She barely cleared the doorway when Fu Tingchuan grabbed her wrist, yanking her aside.

Pain shot through her arm. "Are you done?" she snapped. "Weren't my words clear enough? You do your thing, I'll do mine. Stop harassing me."

Fu Tingchuan's grip tightened. "Need I remind you," he hissed, fury simmering, "the divorce isn't final! You are still Mrs. Fu!"

"Mrs. Fu?" Qu Yan tried to wrench free, wincing. "When did you ever treat me as Mrs. Fu? Go on, announce it to everyone right now. Tell them I'm your wife."

Fu Tingchuan's face darkened, rage constricting his chest. Since when had Qu Yan become so sharp-tongued? She used to be the epitome of docility, obeying his every whim.