Chapter 9 The Apology PART 1

Benedict's heart raced uncontrollably as he lightly coughed. "Say what you have to say right here." He lowered his gaze to the woman who stood half a head shorter than him. Her eyes were watery, her cheeks rosy, and her nose tip red. She was dressed in pajamas, a true beauty in every sense. What did she want to do? Who taught her to apologize to a man in bed? The mere thought fueled an inexplicable anger within Benedict. Seeing his increasingly stern face, Cordelia murmured to herself, 'Victor said, no matter what, getting him into bed will make things much easier!' "I can only say it in bed. Come on..." She tugged and pulled, finally managing to drag Benedict to the edge of the bed. "Lie down," Cordelia said earnestly. Benedict's face darkened, but his ears turned red. "Cordelia, this method of yours won't serve as any form of apology." Cordelia held his stern face in her hands, speaking sincerely, "Don't worry. I'll make it right." The two, in close proximity, stared at each other, and the atmosphere seemed to freeze at that moment. Benedict's face remained cold as ice, yet this seemingly fragile woman managed to press him onto the bed. Taking a deep breath, Cordelia, as if undergoing significant psychological preparation, said, "Don't worry. I'll make you very comfortable." She bent down, her exquisite and beautiful face inching closer to Benedict. A soft, fragrant breath enveloped him. Benedict's heart strangely skipped a beat, a sensation he rarely experienced. He sat up abruptly, pushing Cordelia away. "You're too young. Your figure won't interest any man." Cordelia rubbed her sore shoulders, glaring with clear eyes. "Do you know commenting on a lady's figure is impolite?" "Stop harboring ill intentions toward me. It's useless." Benedict warned, towering over her. After his words, he turned and left the room. "Reflect on your actions." Being scolded, Cordelia watched him leave and felt utterly bewildered. He was truly difficult to please! Not only did he deny her a chance to apologize, but he also criticized her figure. She had a great figure, okay? After Benedict left the room, he felt restless. Images of Cordelia's soft and cute appearance, along with those tender pink lips, filled his mind. This woman must be sent by Archibald to torment him! Entering his study, he focused on a game of chess, playing alone until dawn. Victor entered the study with breakfast. Knowing Benedict's habit of early morning chess, he froze upon seeing the dark circles under Benedict's eyes. "Mr. Radcliffe, did you not rest in your room last night?" Benedict nonchalantly acknowledged and set down the chess piece. A night of solitary chess had restored his composure. "Then, Mrs. Radcliffe didn't have a chance to prove her skills last night?" Victor muttered to himself. Benedict's sharp gaze fell on him, his tone furious. "Was it your idea last night?" "Last time, Mr. William mentioned that massaging certain parts of the head helps sleep. So, I taught Mrs. Radcliffe a set of techniques to help you relax." Victor explained truthfully. So, she wanted to give him a massage, not something else... He had misunderstood her. Benedict's face clouded, and he left the study with a stern expression. Pushing open the bedroom door, he saw a sleeping bag on the spot where the sofa used to be. Cordelia lay curled up in a makeshift sleeping bag, only her delicate face visible. Her long feather-like eyelashes framed her eyes, and her thin lips were rosy. It gave her the appearance of a small, homeless stray cat in the corner. Benedict's hand hovered over the woman's head, hesitated for a moment, and then retracted. He turned and walked away. After a while, Cordelia was awakened by a knock on the door.