Chapter 240

Latisha bit her lip and slowly raised her eyes to meet his. His dark gaze was like a brewing storm, deep and turbulent.

"Are you afraid of me?" Clifford asked. "Why are you afraid of me?"

He leaned closer, searching her eyes for an answer.

"What did I do to you?" he murmured, as if to himself. "Tell me, what have I done to make you so afraid?"

Under his intense questioning, Latisha squeezed her eyes shut, her lashes trembling. Hadn't he done enough? Did he think that as long as he hadn't killed her, he hadn't done anything at all?

“Latisha!” His voice was laced with anger, and his grip tightened, the pain forcing her to open her eyes again. A flash of lightning illuminated the room, catching the glint of tears in her eyes.

"Why can't you speak?”

He continued his one-sided conversation, receiving no response.

Yes, why couldn't she speak? She hated it too. She hated that she was mute. If she could speak, her life wouldn't be like this. She wouldn't be an outcast, and even he wouldn't despise her for her silence. Being with a mute like her for so long would probably drive any normal person insane.

Clifford also closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the simmering rage had been suppressed. He released her chin and pulled her into his arms, his tone shifting to one of helpless frustration. “Don't look at me like that."

Latisha's lips were pressed into a thin line. She listened to the steady beat of his heart against her ear as tears streamed silently down her face. He held her for a long time, so long she thought she might O suffocate, before he finally let her go. He cupped her face, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. He was still on the floor with her, and he leaned in to kiss her.

The nightmarish images from her dream flooded her mind, along with the grotesque sight of Yolanda's charred body. For a moment, she could@lmost smell the

Joc Pene

blood on him. She instinctively turned her head, and his lips

brushed against the corner of her

mouth, missing their target.

A miss of an inch, a world of difference.

Clifford's jaw tightened. He grabbed her face, holding her still, his eyes burning into

hers. As if to prove a point, he crushed his mouth against hers.

They were engaged in an intimate act, yet their eyes were wide open, staring at each other. It was a strange mechanical feeling, eating a meal. After a tense

moment, a sharp pain on hedip made her flinch and close her eyes. The instant she did, he pressed his hand to the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

Latisha found his actions both childish and pathetic. What was the difference between this and lying to himself?

The kiss was domineering and endless, and by the time it was over, her mouth tasted of blood. But Clifford wasn't finished. He pushed her onto her back on the cold floor and leaned over her, kissing her again.

Latisha's hands gripped his shirt. The chill of the floor seeped through her clothes.

Outside, the storm raged, rain lashing against the windows in a mournful rhythm. The villa remained as silent as ever.

She stared up at the face above her, which, in the flashes of lightning, looked terrifyingly unfamiliar. Her senses grew dull, and she was only vaguely aware of being moved from the floor to the bed. She didn't understand what pleasure he could possibly find in doing this with a mute.

Her arms fell limply to her sides, her vision blurring until his face was just a shadowy outline. In the haze, she thought she heard him whisper something in her ear. She tried to make out the words, but a wave of exhaustion washed over her, and her heavy eyelids drifted shut.