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“Let me go. Don’t make me hate you any more than I already do.”
Though she was posing as the Grand Duchess to repay the debt of her life, Adelheid had no intention of ever loving Klaus. He was the Lord of the North with an elegant face, yet possessed a frivolity that was anything but noble. To Adel, who had lived her entire life as a refined lady of a ducal house, dealing with such a Grand Duke was always an ordeal.
They were merely using one another. Therefore, there was no way that this could be love.
“You are precious to me.”
The more she fell for him, and the deeper she was deceived, the more everything fell into ruin—like an uncontrollable wildfire.
“Do I have any other wife but you?”
Klaus growled fiercely, pressing his lips against the nape of her neck.
“I want everything, down to your very last breath. How can this not be love?” “You’ve completely lost your mind…”
In the end, he had made her realize it in the worst possible way: that the only thing left between them was hatred.
