My Bratty Wife
Chapter 200 - Two Hundred

Chapter 200: Chapter Two Hundred

The predatory look in Evan’s eyes made Suzy’s skin crawl, but it also ignited a cold resolve within her. With a swift, sharp movement, she snatched her fallen glove from his grasp, her fingers closing tightly around the soft fabric.

"I seem to have forgotten," she said, her voice dangerously calm as she began pulling the glove back onto her hand, smoothing it meticulously over her fingers, "that you already know the way to my husband’s study." She met his lust-filled gaze with icy disdain. "I suggest you find your own way from here on out. It seems showing you even basic respect or formality is a complete waste of time and effort."

Evan’s smug expression faltered, replaced by a flicker of disbelief and then irritation. He opened his mouth to retort, perhaps to issue another suggestive comment or a veiled threat, but Suzy didn’t give him the chance. She turned her back on him with deliberate finality, the emerald silk of her dress swirling around her ankles, and began walking down the hallway, away from him. Her footsteps echoed crisply on the marble floor, each one a clear dismissal.

Evan stared after her retreating back, his face darkening with anger. The nerve! "How dare you walk out on me?" he called after her, his voice sharp with bruised ego.

Suzy didn’t falter. She continued walking, her pace steady, her head held high.

His anger flared into outright rage. No one treated him this way. "No one ignores me!" he yelled, his voice bouncing off the stone walls of the corridor.

This time, Suzy stopped. She paused for a beat, then slowly turned around to face him again. Her expression wasn’t angry anymore; it was filled with a profound disappointment that somehow seemed more insulting than fury.

"I am truly disappointed in you, Lord Evan," she said, her voice quiet but carrying clearly in the hallway. "A grown man throwing a tantrum like a small child because he didn’t get his way. Get a grip on yourself. Or perhaps, just grow up."

Evan looked genuinely shocked, as if her words were physical blows. "Wha...What?" he sputtered, taken aback by her calm, cutting assessment.

Suzy tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. "Who are you to raise your voice to me? Who exactly do you think you are?" she asked, her tone laced with ice. "Who are you to speak such utter nonsense words to me, the Duchess of this castle? The Duchess of Carleton? Consider this a warning, Lord Evan. Don’t you ever try something like that again as long as you still have breath in your lungs. If you want to let out your anger, take it else where. Don’t do it in my abode not alone to my face."

She turned to leave again, having said her piece. But before she could take more than a single step, Evan moved. Fueled by rage and wounded pride, he crossed the distance between them in two long strides. He grabbed her upper arm, his fingers digging painfully into her skin, ignoring her startled gasp. With surprising strength, he dragged her off the main, brightly lit hallway into a shadowed alcove tucked between two large, imposing portraits – a secluded space hidden from casual view.

Before she could fully regain her balance, he slammed her back against the cold stone wall, pinning her there with his body. One of his hands planted firmly on the wall beside her head, trapping her, while the other still held her arm in a bruising grip. Their faces were inches apart, so close he could feel the warmth of her quickened breath against his cheek, so close he could smell the delicate lavender scent clinging to her skin and hair.

His eyes, blazing with fury and that disturbing lust, bored into hers. He searched her glaring eyes desperately, looking for any sign of fear, any hint of submission that would soothe his ego. But he found none. There was anger, yes, and disgust, but not a trace of fear.

A strange, twisted admiration mixed with his anger. "You never cease to amaze me, Cassandra, you seem to fascinate me." he breathed, his voice rough. He reached up with the hand that wasn’t pinning her arm and brushed back a stray curl that had fallen across her cheek during the struggle. His fingers grazed her skin.

Suzy flinched violently away from his touch, turning her head sharply, her body rigid with repulsion. " Do I look like a specimen to you?" She asked.

His eyes darkened further at her rejection. He leaned closer, deliberately inhaling the scent of her hair near her neck, a possessive, violating action. "I want you, Cassandra," he declared, his voice dropping to a low, possessive growl, finally stripping away all pretense of civility. "No, I must have you."

The raw confession, coupled with his invasive closeness, snapped something within Suzy. Pure, unadulterated disgust surged through her. Without a second thought, driven by instinct and revulsion, she swung her free hand up and slapped him hard across the face. The sound cracked sharply in the confined space of the alcove.

The force of the blow snapped Evan’s head to the side. He stumbled back a step, his hand flying up to his cheek, his eyes wide with utter shock and disbelief. He stared at her as if he couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.

Suzy stood straight, breathing heavily but her eyes blazing with righteous fury. "I told you," she spat, her voice trembling slightly but clear and cold, "to watch your mouth. And I told you to keep your hands to yourself. The next time I’ll make sure you don’t have tongue or hands."

With deliberate movements, she smoothed down the front of her emerald dress, adjusting the fabric as if brushing off dirt. She cast one last look of utter contempt at the stunned Evan, then turned sharply and walked out of the alcove, back into the main hallway, leaving him standing there alone in the shadows, his cheek stinging, his brain struggling to register the fact that she had not only defied him but physically struck him. He watched her walk away, shock slowly curdling back into impotent rage.