Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 203

The atmosphere in the dining room was so frigid and oppressive, it felt as if the very air might freeze solid.

Gwyneth felt like someone had tossed a grenade into her mind.

How could he just blurt it out like that?

How did he even notice?

Was she really that obvious?

The shock left her paralyzed, her breath caught in her throat.

She never expected Bennett to cut straight to the point like this.

She could almost feel the warmth of his breath brushing her hair.

Panic crashed over her in a relentless wave.

Almost instinctively, Gwyneth ducked her head, wishing she could disappear into her plate. Her voice came out in a barely audible whisper, as thin and shaky as a wisp of smoke:

“No… no, I’m fine.”

The words were brittle, completely unconvincing.

Bennett watched her try to hide, his frown deepening.

No?

Was she really calling this—treating him like a contagious disease—“nothing”?

Annoyance simmered inside him, growing sharper, tinged with a stubborn insistence he barely recognized in himself.

“Really?”

Bennett’s voice dropped lower, carrying a quiet authority that made it impossible to brush him off.

He wasn’t satisfied with words alone. One hand gripped the back of Gwyneth’s chair, the other settled firmly on the armrest.

Before she could process what was happening, she felt an irresistible force turn her chair, pivoting her to face him.

“Ah!” she gasped, lurching forward with the sudden movement.

In an instant, she was no longer turned away—she was staring straight at him.

And now, with the chair spun around, the distance between them had shrunk to almost nothing.

Her knees nearly brushed against the sharp crease of his tailored suit.

Bennett crouched down, bringing himself level with her on the chair.

He was right in front of her now, looking up, his eyes deep and cool, searching hers—eyes that had gone wide with a mix of shock and embarrassment.

They were so close that Gwyneth could make out the flutter of his thick eyelashes, the proud line of his nose.

She could even sense the faint, woodsy scent clinging to him—crisp, clean, and unmistakably masculine.

Way, way too close.

Her heart thudded wildly, so hard she thought it might leap out of her chest.

Heat rushed to her cheeks and ears, even her neck flushing a furious red.

Even her breath felt hot as it left her lips.

She wanted, desperately, to lean back, but the chair wouldn’t let her retreat any further.

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