Shalma Hughes was so shaken by the sudden oppressive aura that she subconsciously took a step back. Although she loathed to admit it, she really couldn't read the man standing before her.
"If your Miss Laura knew you'd been my mistress for half a year instead of my girlfriend, what do you think she would say?" Julian Winslow lifted his index finger under Shalma's delicate little chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. He refused to let her hide from him. Anyone else could fear him, but she was the sole exception.
Shalma froze. She never expected him to drop a line like that, much less utter something so threatening. "Mr. Winslow, that's not very nice. I'm just a delicate little lady. Are you trying to threaten me?" As she spoke, her soft, boneless hands took the initiative to tug at the man's tie. Her lip-glossed, cherry-red lips pouted in feigned grievance.
