The Mansion stood in the forest, at the edge of the city, which was incomparably magnificent, and also had a sense of mystery that made people yearn for it.

The spires of the castle were close to the sky, and under the outline of the night, it seemed even more repellent.

It's hot.

So hot that it was hard to breathe.

A young girl was sleeping on a bed with an English style. Her slender body was covered with a fine white muslin. Sweat slowly dripped down her delicate face, landing on the corner of her thin lips.

The sweat on her arms had already dampened the white gauze, creating an endless array of temptations.

"Hmm, it's so hot..."

Elle moaned as he woke up from his deep sleep.

What she saw was a luxurious but unfamiliar room, with fourteenth-century western paintings on the walls swaying in her blurred vision.

Where?

She looked around her unconscious.

He saw a man sitting on the sofa at the corner of the room. He had a long body and long white fingers.

"Who are you? Why is it so hot here? Can you turn off the air conditioner? "

When she said that, Elle realised that her voice was weak, as if she was sick.

Too hot.

"Woman, if you don't wake up, I will set the temperature here to 88 degrees and steam you alive!"

A man's voice sounded in the room filled with heat.

Steam?

What is it?

Elle's mind was a little unfocused. Sweat fell into her eyes, capturing her attention.

There were steady footsteps in his ear.

She lifted her hand to wipe the buttons of her eyes, revealing her exquisite collarbone. Sweat trickled down her face, and when she looked forward, her gaze was like that of a falcon.

The man stood in front of her bed, his legs straight and long, his white shirt set against his tall and straight body, his collar loosened by two pieces, his face breathtakingly handsome, his features deep and sculpted, his eyebrows sharp and his eyes deep, his lips slightly parted under his straight nose.

The room was clearly extremely hot, but the man's face didn't have the slightest bit of sweat. It was graceful and calm.

He was like a man from a newspaper, very young, no more than 29 years old.

Eh, why does it look so familiar?

Where have I seen it before?

Because of her long-term professional habits, Elle was a person who found it easy to get lost in thought. Thinking of this, she stared at the man in a daze, but very quickly, she woke up because the man had taken out a silver handgun.

And the gun was aimed at her.

Eh? What kind of development was this?

"What are you doing?" Who are you? What do you want to do? "

Elle, who was sitting on the bed, was so shocked that he was about to step back.

She had a face that could be described as pure, and her features were delicate but not ostentatious or aggressive. She was very beautiful.

The muzzle of his gun slid slowly down to her lips, to her pointed chin, and then to her delicate collarbone.

It was as if he was touching her with his fingers.

Elle unconsciously tensed up, the white muslin on his body almost fell off, and his sweat instantly turned into cold sweat.

"Woman, where is the child you gave me?"

Steven stood in front of her, his voice cold and stern, his gloomy gaze sweeping across the indistinct curve of her white gauze.

"What?"

Elle was stunned.

"Three years ago, you were pregnant with my child. Where is he now?"

Steven asked word by word, his white hands lightly moving as the muzzle of the gun drew circles on her chest.

"Child?"

Elle was at a loss for words, and it was a long while before she managed to calm down. Are you mistaken? I don't know you. "I have never been pregnant with a child …"