Sweet But Jealous

Chapter 7: Collision Course (7)

"Stop embarrassing yourself! Come!" Fu Tingchuan was seething, vulgarities on the tip of his tongue. He grabbed her arm again. "Now!"

His grip was vicelike. This time, Qu Yan couldn't break free. Pain made her wince. "Fu Tingchuan, let go! I said I'm making him mine. I keep my word. Stop interfering!"

Fu Tingchuan felt the words like a physical blow, a garish green crown settling on his head. Masculine pride ignited white-hot fury. He raised his free hand, aiming a slap at her face. "b***h!"

Qu Yan didn't flinch, merely closed her eyes and turned her head away.

The expected sting never came. She opened her eyes. Fu Tingchuan's raised wrist was caught in an iron grip belonging to another man.

Bo Siyan applied only moderate pressure, a sharp twist. Fu Tingchuan stumbled back several steps, barely catching his balance.

"Striking a woman is beneath a man," Bo Siyan stated, his voice icy, his gaze contemptuous.

Fu Tingchuan flushed crimson, then paled, but dared not show anger. He lowered his eyes deferentially. "Young Master Bo is right. It's just that this woman is—"

Bo Siyan cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Her relation to you is irrelevant. Raising a hand to a woman in my presence violates my rules."

Fu Tingchuan froze, fear momentarily overriding fury. "My apologies, Young Master Bo! I'll leave immediately!" While the Fu family ranked among Jiang City's top four elites, Bo Siyan's "rules" transcended social standing. The consequences of crossing him were legendary. He shot Qu Yan a final, venomous glare. "Behave!" but didn't dare lay a hand on her again under Bo Siyan's frigid stare.

Qu Yan watched him retreat, sighing softly. Behave? Impossible. The original host had been the epitome of good behavior. Even when Bai Jianing had privately confronted her, taunting her face-to-face, she hadn't dared tell Fu Tingchuan.

"I'll have my driver take you home," Bo Siyan stated flatly.

"No," Qu Yan refused.

"Suit yourself." Bo Siyan turned to leave. He wasn't charitable; a rare offer declined meant nothing to him.

"I don't want your driver," Qu Yan declared clearly, stepping closer. "I want you to take me."

Bo Siyan paused. Slowly, he turned his head, a faint, dangerous smile touching his lips. "Do you know what sharing a car with me signifies?"

Qu Yan shook her head. "No."

Bo Siyan's deep, resonant voice took on a lethal edge. "The Death Car. Still dare to ride?"

Qu Yan's smile widened. "Ha! Is that all? Of course I dare! Whoever backs out is a coward!"

"This isn't a jest," Bo Siyan warned, his intense gaze pinning her. "In Jiang City, for every person who fears me, another wants me dead. Step into my car, and you risk sharing a fiery grave."

"I'm not afraid." Qu Yan lifted her chin, her red lips like a defiant challenge. "I'll protect you!"

A low chuckle escaped Bo Siyan. It was arguably the most absurd thing he'd heard all year. This delicate, ornamental woman, whom he could crush with a flick of his wrist, dared promise him protection.

...

Qu Yan followed Bo Siyan out of the Nightfall Lounge and slid into the back seat of his black Maybach.

"Address?" Bo Siyan asked.

"North City." Qu Yan gave the driver the apartment's location.

The back seat was spacious. Qu Yan leaned against her window, not crowding Bo Siyan. The partially open window let in a cool night breeze. She gazed quietly at the passing city lights, letting the wind play with her hair.

Bo Siyan watched her. In the confined space, her unique rose fragrance became more pronounced, unsettlingly so. His ingrained wariness flared. He shifted closer, inhaling subtly. "What perfume?" His voice was low.

Qu Yan turned, surprised. "Perfume? I'm not wearing any."

Bo Siyan's brow furrowed slowly, his eyes turning dangerously opaque.