After undressing and getting her hair wet, she suddenly remembered that she did not bring her pajamas into the washroom. Still, she did not have to worry since Diarmuid never came into her room, so she focused on showering, and stepped out only in a towel.
Drying her hair, she walked up to the mirror… and met Diarmuid‘s icy glare.
She promptly turned around, clutching her chest in panic. “W-What are you doing in my room?”
Diarmuid was lying nonchalantly on the couch, studying her without a care. “Who are you trying to seduce with your womanly wiles, Abigail?”
The thought of Harvey declaring his interest in her frustrated him, and he was convinced that she had seduced Harvey.
Abigail’s crystalline gaze widened as her curled eyelashes twitched, but she feigned calmness and snapped, “It won‘t be you, so you don‘t have to worry!”
Diarmuid snorted. “Who is it, then?”
At the same time, he was studying Abigail‘s fair skin and voluptuous figure–which seemed to stir his impulse.
“Trying to seduce someone with that getup? Who is it? Is it me?” Restraining himself, Diarmuid tried to pretend that he was relaxed and leaned on the couch, projecting even more contempt and conceit. “A flabby waist, blemished skin, and mosquito bites? You‘re never going to tempt me.”
Abigail pursed her lips. She really wanted to snap at him again, but instead, she played it cool. “I guess you prefer Whitney, so I‘ll seduce any man other than you!”
Seduce any man?!
Incensed, Diarmuid sprang to his feet.
Abigail immediately sensed danger, but before she could hide, he caught her wrist with a vice–like grip.
It was pure agony–it felt like he was going to crush her bones.
“Let go…!”
Even before finished, Diarmuid firmly pulled, and she lurched into his arms. She yelped when she came in contact with his muscular, warm chest, and held up her hands against him when she came to her senses. “What are you doing?! Let me go!”
Diarmuid did not–instead, he wrapped his hands around her waist, and held her firmly in his arms.
Then, he leaned downward and whispered into her ear,” What wife pushes their husband away? Hmm?” He deliberately allowed his last syllable to trail off flirtatiously, leaving anyone who heard it blushing.
Nonetheless, Abigail simply turned away, wanting nothing less than to get away from him. “We‘re not really married.
“Then what would make it real?” he asked clearly and softly. “Perhaps you want a real marriage with me?”
Abigail flushed – he was being unreasonable, even though he clearly knew what she meant! Why would he warp her words? Still, she simply withstood his pressure and feigned composure. “I would never. I know my place, and would never step out of line–you have nothing to worry about, Mr. Althoff.”
Diarmuid was furious!
Why did he feel so upset the more she tried to keep her distance?!
“You give yourself too much credit!” He pushed her off right then, knocking off her towel.
Irené felt a chill and looked down to find herself naked!
“Argh!” She fumbled to keep herself covered…
Diarmuid looked at Abigail‘s curvaceous figure, his gaze turning distant as he gulped and worked hard to keep his tone even. “Did you think you could seduce me with this?
In reality, he had already been seduced, but his ego did not allow him to lust after her.
“I–I‘m not–” Abigail stammered even as she picked up her towel to cover herself.
“Don‘t show you filthy body in front of me ever again,” Diarmuid growled as he stormed off, slamming the door loudly behind him.
He strode to the other room so that he did not have to look at her, but all he could think about was her alluring figure replaying repeatedly like the highlight of a movie.
Unable to control his thoughts, he loosened his collar in frustration. Still, it was already loose, but he somehow could not breathe anyway!
He was restless and grouchy, and he wanted to flip out so badly.
“That wretched woman!” he growled-she really was adept at seducing, and more frustratingly, he had to fall for her ploy!
Taking off his necktie and undoing his shirt buttons, he strode into the washroom and splashed himself with cold water to calm himself down.
It was the lowest point of his life, and it had to be her!
On the other hand, Abigail could not sleep.
Even if she had let loose once, she was no skank–she was at once angry and embarrassed for someone to see her naked.
To make things worse, she could not complain about it, because she could not afford to provoke that man!
The next morning, Abigail arrived downstairs with dark circles under her eyes. Having learned her lesson, she was wearing a sweater and jeans.
Mrs. Watson had already prepared breakfast.
“Where is he?” Abigail asked.
“Mr. Althoff left early in the morning.” Mrs. Watson smiled. “Come on, have your breakfast.” Abigail breathed a sigh of relief inside–breakfast was actually tastier without Diarmuid around!
She headed out afterward, but her job search lasted over the next few days without prospects.
Still, Diarmuid did not return home, and she felt so comfortable she was actually a little less wary now.
At the same time, she finally had a response for one for the positions she applied to–as dance instructor.
She was Level 10 in Latin dance. Although she did not have the certification to be an instructor, they were willing to let her take the test.
It had been years since she danced, but the solid foundation she built as a child was still in place, and her slim body allowed her to move with considerable elegance.
The head of the dance school was a woman named Ms. Lang, and she was an agreeable person. “You can retrain yourself in our studio – I see that your basics are solid, and you won‘t have problems getting certified.”
“Okay,” Abigail quickly replied.
She certainly cherished the opportunity , since she had been yearning to work while she had been unemployed !
She thought that she could thank Lionel then. Although she never liked to dance, Lionel had threatened her with her education, and forced her to attend dance lessons in exchange
She certainly did not expect the lessons to prove useful now.
After a few days at the dance studio, she slowly found her stride. While she still felt no passion toward dancing, she did not feel as repulsed as she had been as a child.
The children who attend the dance school were between the ages of four and twelve. Abigail herself was teaching a junior class, which consisted of girls around six to seven years old.
Her childish innocence and cheerful nature slowly returned as she worked with children, and she forgot about her life‘s troubles for a moment.
After the last class, Ms. Lang approached her with a sinile. “Would you happen to be free tonight, Ms. Bernstein?”
Abigail nodded. “I am.” She thought that Ms. Lang had an errand concerning their workplace, only for Ms. Lang to catch her by surprise.
“So, I wanted to ask… Do you happen to have a boyfriend?
“… No,” Abigail replied.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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