Seducing His Love

"Marcel, how can you speak like that?" Outside the dining room, Master Cox's voice boomed. "A young girl comes to visit you, and you're being rude to her?"

I turned and saw Master Cox looking pleased, grinning at me. "Isn't she the little girl from the Lewis family?"

I ran over to greet them, and Master Cox patted my head. "Finally, a good child willing to visit Marcel. Little girl, don't be afraid of his rudeness. He's actually soft-hearted, like a hedgehog."

I earnestly agreed. "I know; he's really kind-hearted."

Marcel scoffed. "Do you know me well enough to say that? Hypocritical."

I turned to him and snorted. "I know. So what?"

Marcel sneered and ignored me, going upstairs.

Master Cox, fuming, tapped his cane and led me. "Come on, I'll take you to find him. How can this child be so ungrateful?"

I followed Master Cox upstairs with a smile. He threw open Marcel's door and said, "What are you doing up here? Why are you hiding when we have a guest?"

He pushed me into the room. I glanced at Marcel's attempt to hide his phone. The screen was displaying live surveillance footage of a living room where a yellow mutt was panting and tearing up the house. The sofa was nearly ruined, and the table legs were about to give out.

Seeing me peek, Marcel quickly put away his phone and shot me a thinly veiled angry look. "Aren't you going to find your ideal partner? Why are you bothering me?"

I shook my finger at him. "Dylan isn't my ideal partner, so stop saying nonsense."

"Then what are you here for?" Marcel's raised eyebrows held a hint of disdain. "You're not out fishing for a catch, are you?"

"Actually, yes, I'm hoping to catch you. Is that okay?" With Master Cox absent, I dropped my obedient facade and walked up to him with a grin, hands behind my back.

Marcel's face flushed red, mixed with a trace of anger. "I'm not a good person. Don't come bothering me—"

"You are." I interrupted him firmly. "You're a great person."

Marcel looked at me with confusion. "Are you having trouble with your eyes or is your brain not working properly?"

I smiled and changed the subject. "Can I see your dog?"

Marcel shook his head firmly. "No."

"Oh." I nodded. "But it looks really cute."

Marcel suspiciously asked, "What kind of dog do you have trouble affording? Why do you care about a mutt?"

"I just like mutts; they're smart and well-behaved." I spoke with genuine affection.

I really do like them.

Marcel's expression softened slightly. Reluctantly, he handed me his phone. "Just take a quick look."

I nodded, watching the video of the yellow dog with undivided attention, as it wreaked havoc in the house. I hadn't seen it for a long time.

Marcel observed me from the side. "You really do like Brice."

I was somewhat at a loss for words. "It's a girl, so you shouldn't call it Brice."

"How do you know it's a girl?"

I tilted my head and smiled. "I'm not telling you."

Marcel said, "You're just being mysterious."

At noon, Master Cox asked me to stay for lunch.

During the meal, Master Cox scolded Marcel non-stop. "Stop going against your dad. After getting beaten for over ten years, you still haven't learned your lesson. Look at all those injuries on you. Is that a new bruise on your face?"

Marcel ate quietly without speaking.

Marcel had a faint mark on his face, and if you looked closely, you could see a similar one on his neck, like he had been whipped.

I felt uneasy. "Master Cox, Marcel is such a good person, how can he still get beaten?"

Master Cox sighed. "His dad, not measuring up to his older brother, forces Marcel to be better than Dylan in everything, driving the kid into rebellion. Instead of reflecting, all he does is beat him senseless."

I bit my lip, feeling more unsettled. "Marcel is really good."

Master Cox smiled in surprise. "Yes, I also think Marcel is a good kid—smart and kind-hearted."

"Yes, yes!" I nodded vigorously.

Marcel tapped my arm. "Eat your meal and stop causing a fuss."

His tone seemed to soften a bit.

I smiled, keeping my head down and obediently eating.

After the meal, the old man asked Marcel to drive me home. Reluctantly, Marcel picked up his helmet, looked at my doll dress, and, with a cold face, put the helmet down. He grabbed the car keys and drove me to my doorstep.

When we arrived at home, he looked at me seriously. "Don't bother me. I'm not one of you pampered people."

I didn't respond and waved at him. "See you tomorrow!"

Marcel, annoyed, hit the gas and disappeared from sight.