Forbidden Passion
Chapter 15 The Occupied Heart

Theodore walked towards her amidst the scattered golden rays of light, seeing her trembling so violently that he reached out to touch her. "What's wrong with you, are you sick?"

"Slap!"

Phoebe slapped away his hand, staggering back two steps. "Don't touch me!"

The atmosphere suddenly froze.

Theodore's hand froze in mid-air, a red mark immediately appearing on the clear bones of the back of his hand. In his calm and tranquil eyes, waves of shock and turmoil surged. He took a step forward, grabbed her wrist, and pinned her against the wall, hot breath pouring over her. "What, you don't want me to touch you, then who do you want to touch?" Phoebe bit her lip, turning her face to the side. The man's breath tickled her neck, making her tremble uncontrollably.

In the thin summer clothes, with her head turned like this, the defined lines of her neck resembled a swan waiting to be slaughtered, giving rise to the most primitive desires in humans. Theodore's eyes grew fierce, his breath becoming rapid.

His lips pressed against her fair and slender neck, the skin underneath trembling incessantly, a faint hint of fragrance lingering around his nose. It was her scent, carrying a slight warmth and a hint of sweetness. He became entranced by this fragrance, unable to free himself.

Suddenly, the suppressed sobbing of a woman reached his ears, causing Theodore's entire body to tremble. He slowly lifted his head, his gaze scalded by the tears on her face.

He pursed his lips and said harshly, "Why cry, do you hate being intimate with me so much?"

As soon as he said these words, he was angered by his own words.

Hating being touched by him, because she still held Edward in her heart. She really knows how to dig into his heart.

"Teddy, you bastard!" Phoebe forcefully pushed him, despite heris slim figure. She pushed again, but he didn't budge. Determined, she pushed even harder.

Her face turned red, but she still couldn't move him an inch.

Theodore held her chin, his gaze sinister. "I may not be as good at pleasing you as Edward, but Phoebe, even if I'm a bastard, I am still your husband. Remember that."

With that, he let go of her and turned to enter the bedroom.

With a loud bang, the door slammed shut, shaking the room. Phoebe slid down to the ground, leaning against the wall, feeling utterly powerless. She covered her face with her hands, tears wetting her fingertips. Avoiding each other would be better than fighting!

Theodore changed his clothes and emerged from the bedroom. The living room was filled with the fragrant aroma of white rice porridge. He pressed his stomach with his hand.

Instead of going to the entrance, he walked into the dining room where Phoebe sat, having breakfast. He sat down opposite her.

"Pour me a bowl," he commanded with a rather haughty tone.

In a stubborn mood, Phoebe remained seated and replied in a firm voice, "Don't you have hands?"

"I do," Theodore responded confidently, "but you are my wife, and you should wait on me."

Phoebe: "..." was dazzled by his audacity.

How can anyone be so shameless?

She got up and went to the kitchen to pour a bowl of steaming hot white porridge. The freshly cooked porridge emitted a tantalizing steam, increasing one's appetite.

Theodore lowered his head and took a sip, then glanced at Phoebe across the table.

His gaze paused for a moment on the faint pink scar at the corner of her eye. He quickly looked away and cleared his throat. "It's Mom's birthday in a couple of days. What gift have you prepared?" Phoebe was taken aback.

Theodore smirked and remarked, "You've been in the Reynolds family for three years, and Mom's birthday comes every year. Don't tell me you've never remembered her birthday."

Phoebe felt guilty. It wasn't that she forgot, but these past few days were just too busy, causing her to forget. "I'll go buy something this afternoon."

"Hmph!" Theodore scoffed, a smug expression on his face. Then he added, "Perfect, I haven't prepared anything either. Let's go together."

Phoebe reluctantly agreed but the meaningful smug expression creeped her out. : "..."

What's with the smug smile?

Phoebe felt a tightness in her chest and didn't want to sit at the same table with him. She intended to finish her meal quickly and leave. However, in her haste, she ended up scalding herself with the piping boiling hot porridge. Before Theodore could say "careful", he saw her stick out her tongue, inhaling sharply. He was simultaneously annoyed and amused. "Why are you eating so fast? No one's going to snatch it from you."

He got up and poured a glass of cold water, handing it to her. Seeing her tongue sticking out as it cooled off, pink and delicate, unexpectedly made his heart beat faster.

"Drink some cold water," Theodore said.

Phoebe quickly glanced at him, finding his voice somehow husky. She took the glass and gulped down a few sips.

The burning sensation on her tongue subsided, leaving a slight numbness. She thanked him with a lowered head and continued to eat her breakfast.

Theodore glanced at Phoebe from time to time. He hadn't noticed before, but now he saw that there was gauze taped to the back of her hand. He asked, "What happened to your hand?"

Phoebe glanced at the back of her right hand and remembered the fear and panic she felt when she was trampled. A sense of resentment rose involuntarily within her.

She replied, repeating verbatim what Theodore had said in the office, "A small wound won't kill me. It has already healed even without you asking."

Theodore choked on his words and his face turned grim. The atmosphere became tense again, and they finished their breakfast in an awkward silence. Without waiting for her, Theodore left first.

Their apartment was just across the street from the Reynolds Group building, in a very old neighborhood with top-notch security facilities.

After they got married, they lived in the ReynoldsShen Mansion for a while. However, after Phoebe insisted on returning to work after her miscarriage, it was inconvenient to commute to the mansion from Monday to Friday. SoSo, Theodore bought this apartment near the company.

The apartment was on the top floor, a spacious floor plan with bedrooms, a walk-in closet, a study, a functional room, and a living room. The layout was simple and compact, creating a cozy feeling of home.

Phoebe tidied up the kitchen and went to work.

In the afternoon, Theodore called her and asked her to wait for him in the underground parking lot. She had to leave her work behind and headed downstairs with her bag.

As she stepped out of the elevator, she saw a black Maybach parked at the entrance. The passenger window rolled down, revealing an exquisite and unparalleled face.

"Miss Ziegler, hurry and get in the car. We've been waiting for you," said Vanessa.

Phoebe was taken aback as she hadn't expected Vanessa to be in the car. She instinctively looked past her to the driver's seat, only to see Theodore sitting there, as steady as a rock.

Her gaze returned to Vanessa sitting in the passenger seat. She remembered a saying she had read before, that the passenger seat is always the exclusive seat for the wife.

Although it was a rather melodramatic saying, seeing Vanessa sitting next to Theodore made her inexplicably uncomfortable.

She sat in the back seat and heard Theodore's displeased voice, "Taking your sweet time. If you don't want to go, just say it. Don't waste our time."

"Theodore, don't speak like that to Miss Ziegler," Vanessa said, shaking Theodore's arm and speaking in a flirtatious coquettish tone. "Miss Ziegler is very busy. It's already rare for her to make time to accompany us. Don't blame her."