Chapter 2

Brianna Diaz unbuckled her seatbelt, biting her lip as she struggled to digest the three words echoing in her mind—I, want, you!

She cautiously stole a glance at him, observing his somewhat angry demeanor as he drove. She seriously doubted whether he had hit his head.

He was Thomas Moore, a public figure she had been following for years. She had fantasized many times about what kind of brilliant life such a person would lead. And now he was right beside her, having uttered words moments ago that she couldn't believe—this was beyond her wildest dreams!

Yes, she had made this choice out of desperation, and logically, he would be the perfect candidate. After all, he was an absolute heartthrob, with an aura of elegance. However, she had always regarded him as an idol in her heart. If it really was him, wouldn't she be reduced to nothing in front of her idol? She couldn't just treat this as a night to forget everything!

Her brain resounded with resolute opposition. She turned decisively to him. "Mr. Moore, about what you just said..."

"What? Worried I can't afford the price?" he replied coldly, his eyes still fixed ahead. His handsome profile made Brianna Diaz dizzy. She bit her lip again, internally rallying herself: No, I must refuse. With such a beautiful face, do I want to remember this scene as regretful in the future? No!

"I... I've made arrangements with someone else. Breaking the agreement would be... inappropriate." The excuse sounded so lame coming out of her mouth, she felt embarrassed. He finally turned to give her a glance, his eyes flashing with obvious anger. "You really care about professional ethics, huh!"

"Huh?" Brianna Diaz was stunned. She subconsciously gestured to say she wasn't a professional, but she heard a faint buzzing sound. Then everything went blurry, and she realized he had raised his hand, but her vision was spinning, and then everything went black.

She slumped, almost unconscious. If it weren't for the seatbelt holding her, she would have collapsed directly onto him.

The hand on her neck turned, lifting her head. Her eyes were closed, and her face looked peaceful.

He reached back to press a button on his earpiece and calmly uttered, "Go ahead."

...

As the lukewarm water enveloped her, the sound of running water rushed into her ears. Brianna Diaz instinctively sat up, but the water jet startled her, causing her to close her eyes again.

"Ah, help, help..." Amidst her incoherent cries and waving hands, the water jet ceased. She quickly wiped the water from her face and realized the excessively handsome man was leaning against the transparent sliding door next to the bathtub. He held the shower head in his hand, staring at her with a somewhat amused and scornful expression.

"What are you saving? Afraid I'll devour you?"

His voice, with its usual magnetism, still sounded as melodious as those interviews in her memory. But Brianna Diaz felt his anger, recalling his angry glance, then realizing, in an instant, she had lost her memory, and now, unbelievably, she was sitting in the bathtub! And completely soaked!

Subconsciously, she reached out to her chest, curling up her body... The white diamond-encrusted short skirt seemed almost transparent at this moment, and the damn bathtub made her collapse into it. She keenly felt as if she had become invisible in the eyes of that man.

"There!" He tossed the showerhead unceremoniously onto her body. "Clean up and come out. I'll be waiting outside!" With that, he turned and went straight to the bed, lying down. The transparent tea-colored glass concealed nothing, but rather made everything clear to her.

Her heart pounded like a kangaroo, never settling down. She swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact. But as she reached for the showerhead, she fretted: transparent tea-colored glass, a transparent bathroom. How was she supposed to wash herself?

At that moment, she felt like crying without tears. She had envisioned many scenarios, even once preparing herself for the worst. She had imagined what kind of horrible and unbearable man would be her first. But now, providence had given her an unbelievably handsome man, the man she had always admired. Yet, even so, why did it have to be this kind of bathroom? It left her without even a trace of dignity!

"What are you staring at? Do you want me to help you?" His voice intruded, and Brianna Diaz startled, twisting the faucet. As the water gushed out and cascaded over her body, she paused, tears welling up like a spring.

Someone sitting on the sofa shivered slightly, then pressed the TV remote control in his hand.

After changing several channels, he saw her sitting in the bathtub like a fool, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. He spoke, "Still dressed like that, you're the first I've ever seen."

Brianna Diaz heard him and reached for the zipper of her clothes, taking a deep breath. With a resigned air, she pulled it open.

The forcefulness of her action made his fingers rub back and forth on the buttons of the remote control. Then he threw the remote control, got up, went to the small bar on the opposite side, took a bottle of wine, and poured two glasses.

With a glass of wine in hand, he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the flashing neon lights of the building across the street, his eyes filled with a chill.

When the sound of the sliding door opening finally came from behind, he turned his head and froze. This woman had wrapped herself tightly, even bundling her hair with a towel...

Thomas Moore's eyelids flickered. "The first time?"

Brianna Diaz nodded, embarrassed.

Thomas Moore pointed to the wine on the bar. "If you're nervous, have a drink!"

Brianna Diaz glanced at the wine but didn't move. "I... I don't drink."

Thomas Moore chuckled, then tipped the wine into his mouth, set down the glass, and strode toward Brianna Diaz, then snatched the towel off her head.

The sourness, as intense as herself in this moment, overwhelmed her with surprise and fear. Her nose tingled with sourness, her eyes welled with tears, turning his gray-green eyes into a blurry patch amid her tears.

"Am I that repulsive to you? That pitiful?" When she felt a fleeting breeze by her ear, accompanied by his voice, she instinctively requested, "No, it's not that. I just... I'm just not ready yet..."

"What?"

"I... I'm not ready yet..."

His sturdy frame stiffened for a moment. Then she felt hands on her face, wet hair moved aside, tears wiped away. Then those gray-green eyes gazed at her. "You mean, you want me to let you go now, to leave?"

His voice was gentle, his eyes softened. She wanted to nod, but she hadn't forgotten why she had taken this path. She looked at him, bit her lip, and almost tremblingly whispered, "No, I just... I just want you to be gentle."