Chapter 2

Her voice was low and husky, with a magnetic quality that felt like a feather brushing against the heart.

Philip paused momentarily, but didn't engage with Catherine further, picking up a magazine from the table and leafing through it.

Sensing Philip's indifference, Catherine wasn't upset, but simply occupied herself with her phone.

For the rest of the time, Catherine seemed like a completely different person, becoming extraordinarily well-behaved with none of her previous brazenness.

She watched movies, occasionally gazed at the scenery outside, and sometimes closed her eyes for a brief rest.

It seemed she tried every possible activity on the plane, except renewing her advances toward Philip.

Meanwhile, Philip remained on guard against her, his nerves constantly tense, unable to sleep.

He pretended to be deeply absorbed in his book, while his ears remained alert to Catherine's every movement.

Only when he heard her steady breathing did he slightly turn his head to quietly observe her.

Her features were exquisite; even in sleep, she was strikingly beautiful.

Her thick curled lashes fell slightly, hiding her lovely almond eyes, her nose elegantly high-bridged, her cherry-colored thin lips full and delicate.

The plane's air conditioning was strong, and she wore a light jacket.

Beneath her loose clothing, her body displayed breathtaking curves. Her full breasts rose and fell slightly with each breath, while her waist was so slender that it seemed one could encircle it with a single hand. This delicate waist flowed into full, perfectly rounded hips that pressed alluring contours into the seat.

She lay quietly, her sleeping face as pure as an unworldly angel, yet captivating enough to hold any man's gaze.

Though clearly an innocent, lovely girl, she now behaved like a wanton woman.

Philip's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze gradually darkening, his hand gripping the book pages tighter until his knuckles lost their color.

He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to collect his thoughts.

When Catherine slowly awakened from her dream, the plane had already landed smoothly.

Catherine glanced at the page Philip was reading and suddenly laughed softly.

"Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord; I will repay."

Philip instinctively looked up when he heard her recite the exact line he had just finished reading.

Her face was filled with mockery, her eyes no longer passionate and wanton but rather profound and melancholic.

Perhaps because he was still immersed in the book's mood, looking at Catherine now, he felt as if a faint layer of sorrow shrouded her.

Before he could speak, Catherine slowly leaned closer, her faint sweet fragrance once again enveloping Philip's senses.

She slipped her business card into his suit pocket again, saying with a slightly challenging tone, "If you want to throw it away again, have your assistant do it. It has my lipstick mark—I wouldn't want to dirty your hands."

Philip's gaze involuntarily fixed on her lips, still a vibrant color, as red and tempting as a blooming rose.

Catherine laughed softly. She slowly moved her hand from his pocket to his chest, gently grasped his tie, and brought it to her lips, lightly pressing a kiss mark onto it.

"I was wrong. The lipstick mark is here. You'd better throw this away too."

After that, Catherine turned and left, her retreating figure appearing carefree yet somehow resolute.

Watching her leave, Alex hardly dared to breathe, nervously extending his hand and saying, "Mr. Foster, I... I'll throw it away for you."

Philip looked down at the obvious red mark on his gray patterned tie, remained silent for a moment, but didn't remove his tie. Instead, he took out the business card from his pocket.

Before handing it to Alex, he lowered his gaze and glanced at it.

Printed on the card was the name: [Catherine Levin.]

Not long after, Catherine encountered Philip again at an evening gala.

"Cathy, let me introduce you to someone extremely important," James said with a mysterious smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Catherine raised an eyebrow inquisitively, asking, "Who? You're being so mysterious."

James smiled without answering, simply tightening his grip on Catherine's hand as he quickened his pace.

James led Catherine through the main hall filled with elegantly dressed guests toward a massive observation terrace.

Below stretched the glittering city lights; above, the deep night sky.

Philip stood by the giant glass railing, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other casually holding a glass of wine, his silhouette almost merging with the night.

His entire being emanated a forbidding coldness and dignity.

James pulled Catherine to Philip, intimately wrapping an arm around her waist, and said with a smile, "Uncle Philip, let me introduce you."

He lowered his head slightly, looking at Catherine with affection, "Catherine Levin, my girlfriend."

Philip turned around slowly at the sound.

His deep gaze passed over James and fell coldly on Catherine.

James, with a smile covering his face, said to Catherine, "Cathy, this is my uncle—Philip. Say hello."

Catherine greeted Philip in a soft and charming voice, "Hello, Mr. Foster."

As she spoke, she playfully winked, her glances becoming so alluring that her pure face instantly became vivid and enticing.

Philip glanced at her, then mockingly said to James, "You already have a fiancée, yet you're dating someone else?"

James looked somewhat embarrassed and mumbled, "Cathy knows. Charlotte and I are just a business arrangement. I only have feelings for Cathy."

Then he looked toward Catherine.

As he expected, Catherine nodded obediently. "As long as James has me in his heart, I don't care about titles."

She tilted her head down just enough to reveal her slender neck, the gesture both subtle and irresistible. Her submissive stance only added to her allure.

James looked at her with some emotion.

Philip observed the couple's affectionate display, the corner of his lips curling in mockery.

At that moment, James's phone rang abruptly.

He glanced apologetically at Catherine before taking out his phone.

Catherine casually glimpsed the screen, which displayed the contact name: [Kitten.]

She inwardly sneered while maintaining a gentle smile on her face.

She knew exactly who this Kitten was.

His secretary—Olivia Brown.

James calmly walked aside to answer the phone.

After a brief conversation, he apologetically told Catherine, "Cathy, I'm so sorry, but there's a tricky situation at the company that I need to handle immediately."

Catherine understood internally that the Kitten must be playing some game again.

But she still appeared understanding, saying with concern, "Working so late, please take care of yourself, okay?"

Though inwardly she cursed, 'You'd better die in that kitten's bed..'

James held Catherine's hand, his face full of reluctance, then looked at Philip and hesitantly said, "Uncle Philip, I'm really worried about Cathy going home alone so late. Could you possibly trouble yourself to take her home?"

In truth, James was somewhat afraid of Philip, knowing he disliked being disturbed. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them, thinking perhaps he should retract the request.

Unexpectedly, Philip slowly rose from his seat and simply said, "Fine."

Hearing that, Catherine was stunned for a moment, but quickly regained her composure, her smile deepening.

James hurriedly instructed the driver to bring the car to the entrance.

A black Bentley impressively stopped at the hotel entrance, attracting numerous gazes.

The driver was at the wheel, while Catherine and Philip sat together in the back seat.

The atmosphere inside the car was somewhat oppressive. Philip leaned against the seat with his eyes closed, seemingly resting.

Catherine, finding it boring, secretly observed the man beside her.

Philip's facial features were so profoundly defined that the more she looked, the more tempted she felt, even developing an urge to bite him.

However, this enchanting silence didn't last long.

After about fifteen minutes, the car slowly stopped at the entrance to Maple Manor, where Catherine lived.

Philip suddenly opened his eyes, his deep gaze firmly locked on Catherine.

His deep, cold voice carried an undeniable pressure. "Catherine."

Catherine's heart skipped a beat, though she maintained her smile. "Yes? What is it, Mr. Foster?"

"I don't care what your purpose is in approaching James, nor do I care about your calculated efforts to get close to me, or what you hope to gain."

He slowly turned his head, his gaze so sharp it seemed to pierce through her soul. "Give up those unrealistic ideas of yours while you still can."

He leaned slightly forward, his powerful presence making Catherine momentarily feel suffocated.

He stared at her, enunciating each word clearly and cruelly. "The last woman who dared to scheme against me met a terrible fate. The kind of terrible that leaves nothing but dust. You would do well to take that as a warning."