Chapter 172 You Are Inhuman

It was past three o’clock in the afternoon when Genevieve finally woke up.

Without much memory of what had happened during the wee hours of the morning, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stumbled out of bed. However, as soon as her feet touched the carpet, the soreness between her legs almost caused her to topple over.

She barely held onto the bed for support, but thankfully, that was enough to keep herself from falling.

The next second, Genevieve grabbed her phone from the bedside table and texted the man who had long since left the bedroom: Armand Faulkner, you’re inhuman!

Shortly after she sent her message, the door suddenly opened.

Even though Armand seemed cold and aloof as he walked in wearing a buttoned-up white shirt and black pants, there was no doubt that his face wore a look of contentment.

Upon seeing a grim-faced Genevieve leaning against the bed, Armand smiled. Without further ado, he lifted her wordlessly in his arms and carried her into the bathroom.

Genevieve, on the other hand, angrily typed out another message: You’re inhuman! You’re a sc*mbag! You’re an animal!”

the one who flirted

the marble countertop, but when he recalled how she had flinched at the cold marble when

continued with her text: I only kissed you once! Couldn’t you have pushed me away? You

turn down a piece of meat dangling in front of it?” Armand asked with

bit down on the toothbrush, Genevieve lifted her leg

she went on to brush her teeth and wash her face under the watchful eye of Armand. Once that was all done, he carried her back out and onto the

had been padded

the hotel restaurant’s menu, Genevieve had just applied face toner, but her expression remained cold and gloomy as she glared

to cancel the flight tickets,” Armand remarked. While putting the menu on the dressing table, he inadvertently

use that much

and said in a low voice, “Once you’re

taking your private plane? I’ll have you know I’m fit as a fiddle! It’s all

herself to elaborate and decided to scold

they’re in their thirties? She suddenly stopped typing as memories of the terrifying experience came flooding back. Before long, she was back on her phone again:

text on

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