Chapter 59

Leon straightened the head that had weakly tilted to the side and pushed his tongue into the parted lips. The woman could no longer resist.

A woman who doesn't resist is different from one who can't resist.

He laughed as he squeezed her trembling breast in his hand.

“Hiss!”

The moment the inner flesh, which had stuck to his fingers, made a tearing sound and fell off, the woman finally let out a voice. Even though his hands were already off her, she began to sob convulsively.

“Sob...”

“You should have known your place.”

‘What a despicable bastard.’

Grace, while moving her hands, inwardly cursed Winston with every curse she knew.

As soon as he untied the ropes that bound Grace, he put a few chocolates in her mouth to prevent her from collapsing. He wondered why the merciless demon was being so kind...

“The maids will bring the meal soon. Clean up before that.”

He was telling Grace to clean up the mess of the chair and the floor.

To clean up the traces of humiliation herself, naked, right in front of him. Leon Winston was a demon who knew how to kill without touching a person.

‘I won’t die. You have to die by my hands.’

The man he wanted to kill was sitting on the table, leisurely smoking a cigar. At the edge of her vision, where she was wiping the chair drenched with her fluids, the tip of a brown shoe was tapping the floor.

She could feel his gaze looking down at her. With her head bowed, she couldn't see what kind of eyes he was looking at her with, and she didn't really want to know.

Was the interrogation not over yet? The man who usually came at 2 PM and left before 4 PM had stayed in the torture room past 5 PM today. Moreover, he didn't turn into a beast in the middle of the interrogation today.

‘Why is he doing this?’

Her heart became uneasy with his unexpected behavior.

“Ha...”

Now, only that man and Grace would know that something despicable had happened on this chair. As Grace was about to move the cleaned chair, she closed her eyes tightly. There were small puddles on the black floor as well.

“Ah!”

As she crouched to wipe the floor, her legs trembled and she fell over. It was at that moment when she desperately tried to support herself on the floor.

The tapping shoe stopped and then approached her. The sound of unbuckling made Grace, who was lying on the floor like an animal, bite her lip.

“Aah!”

The gentleman in a sleek suit began to violate the woman lying on the floor like a dog.

Gentleman? More like a beast. You're just like that.

The more this man held back, the more difficult it became for Grace, not for him. He seemed more excited than usual, and the volume filling her abdomen was enormous. Even her already softened inner walls, which had been worked by his hands for a long time, struggled to accommodate him.

The maids would come soon. She wanted to listen for the sound of footsteps outside the door, but she couldn't. The saxophone melody from the phonograph was still repeating monotonously.

Grace, who was anxiously watching the door that was shaking with the thrusts of her body, was enveloped by a thick arm. The sleeves of the shirt, which had been rolled up, crinkled as they were pressed. As her chest, which had been hanging and trembling under the weight, was crushed, he whispered in her ear.

“Why would I need porn when I have you?”

Grace gritted her teeth. While receiving the thrusts of the gentleman in a suit, she repeated to herself.

I'm a living prostitute.

There was one thing better about the torture room than the maid's room: the hot water always flowed abundantly.

“Bastard, black, I'll kill you.”

Grace cried and cursed out loud, relying on the loud sound of the water. It was a time to wash away the pent-up sorrow and anger.

She wanted to stand there forever in the falling water and the mist, but she couldn't. When she turned off the faucet, the clinking sound from outside the bathroom was clearly heard. The smell of food also wafted faintly.

As she gathered her hair and squeezed out the water, a thick, soft cloth wrapped around her back. While Grace was blinking in surprise at the unexpected action, Winston silently wrapped a towel around her body and returned to his place.

His place was the wall at the entrance of the bathroom. There was no door in the bathroom. Winston stood leaning against the wall as if guarding to prevent anyone from coming in while Grace was showering.

But from the hungry look in his eyes, he might have been watching her despicably.

Hungry?

It was absurd. Just ten minutes ago, he had pinned Grace to the floor and indulged in his desires.

“Sir, for the appetizer, we have oysters with lemon juice, and for the main course, thinly sliced truffles on...”

A young maid's voice came from beyond the bathroom entrance. It was a voice Grace knew. The maid's voice was tense, probably more from excitement than fear.

Grace stepped out of the shower and began to dry her body with a towel. As soon as her body, which had become dry and powdery, was touched by a sticky gaze, she wanted to wash again.

The maid admired his ascetic appearance, which paradoxically made her body burn with desire.

‘Ascetic?’

It was so absurd that she couldn't help but snort.

“...I hope you enjoy it. And the wine to accompany the meal is...”

The maid's voice, as if trying to peek at who was locked in the torture room, was getting closer. If the maids knew that Sally Bristol, who often gossiped about the Winston family and the head of the maids, was locked up, what would their reaction be?

‘Hi, I'm actually Grace Riddle. I don't care if it's the command or the duchy. Please spread the rumor that a woman with the last name Riddle is locked in the torture room.’

The more she thought about it, the more she felt that Winston hadn't reported her arrest to his superiors. When she probed his reaction to her superiors or the benefits he would gain from this case, Winston had evaded the topic with vague answers.

His soldiers were his subordinates and would never spread rumors outside the room. But the gossipy maids were a different story.

‘I don't want to die here.’

Just as Grace was about to take a step toward the entrance, Winston signaled the unseen maid to step back. Grace received the same warning immediately.

Grace, who had no courage or energy to provoke him further today, obediently dried her hair.

“Sir, the meal is ready. Is there anything else you need?”

Winston's response was inaudible. It seemed he had nodded or gestured, as the sound of the door closing was heard shortly after.

Only then could she finally step out of the bathroom. As Grace, wrapped in a towel, headed for the bed, Winston sat at the table where the meal was set.

As she took clothes out of the bag she had placed next to the bed, she heard a clicking sound from behind.

“Why don't you use the wardrobe I provided?”

Because I don't want to stay here long.

Without a word, Grace put on her clothes and sat opposite Winston. He had neatly rolled down his sleeves and even retied his tie.

Grace, looking down at the elegant white tablecloth on the iron table, smiled. How long had it been since he had violated her on this very table and now was having a meal here?

‘He has good taste.’

Perhaps for dessert, he might lay her down here again and eat her.

Her appetite was already gone. As she scanned the row of plates on the long table with a disinterested eye, her gaze was caught by a vase between her and Winston.

‘Lilacs?’

A vase of blooming light purple lilacs was placed in a small crystal vase.

The soldiers had never brought decorations for meals before. And the employees of the Winston family never put lilacs on the table.

Grace looked up at the man sitting opposite her. His light blue eyes, which showed a faint curiosity, were staring at her persistently.

‘This is his doing.’

It didn't feel romantic or affectionate. It only felt mocking.

Look, the lilacs are already blooming. You didn't know, did you?

Do you think I'll play along with your mockery?

“Beautiful suit, fine cuisine, expensive wine, and even pretty flowers. Sir, is this a date?”

Grace smiled and asked, and the man sitting opposite her snorted.

“Ambitious dreams.”

“Phew...”

She dramatically brushed her chest.

“Lucky me. I really didn't like my date partner.”

Winston twisted his lips in disbelief. Grace laughed slyly and lifted the silver lid covering the plate in front of her.

“I hope the picky princess is satisfied with the meal.”

Winston, mocking her as the last princess of the rebel royal family, but Grace stared at the center of the plate without a word.

Expensive truffles.

Now, Grace was the one who was speechless.

Winston had said to order what she wanted, but Grace had never ordered a meal.

But how did this man give the instructions? Not the special soup for torture room guests, not the food for the employees, not the food for the annex guards, but the food for the people of the Winston family was served.

Even when Winston didn't eat with them, it was always the same.