Benson
Benson 71

Chapter 71 The Gentleman’s Facade

Benson held her on his lap, smiling. “Pretending to be indifferent doesn’t suit you.” His laughter carried a hint of mockery, as if he was ridiculing her attempt to act tough.

Yvonne said nothing, glaring at him just like that night..

Her eyes were filled with complex emotions, both anger and helplessness.

Benson, holding her slim waist, leaned in to kiss her. She turned her face away in disdain. What do you take me for?” Her voice trembled, clearly trying hard to control her emotions.

She couldn’t accept being kissed in such a situation; it felt humiliating to her.

He might be shameless, but she wasn’t.

“Alright, I’ll respect you, Mrs. Benson.” He stood up, seemingly in a good mood. His tone was slightly frivolous, as if teasing her reaction.

Yvonne no longer liked the title “Mrs. Benson.”

In the past, when Maria called her “Mrs. Benson,” it made her heart swell with joy, often making her smile.

Marrying him and becoming his wife felt like a dream come true, something she’d often giggle about.

But now, he didn’t treat her as a wife, yet he called her that, which felt extremely ironic. Benson glanced at her; her delicate brows were furrowed, not at all happy, a stark to her time in Miami.

Ontrast

His eyes showed a hint of confusion, as if pondering the reason for her drastic change. Benson sat on the sofa by the floor–to–ceiling window, waiting for Yvonne to continue. Hist posture was relaxed, as if everything was under his control.

Yvonne stood at the door, unmoving. Her heart was filled with turmoil, unsure how to face this man she once deeply loved.

Benson dialed Andrew’s number, putting it on speaker.

“Hello.” Andrew’s voice came through the phone.

“Bring her back tonight,” Benson said, his tone commanding.

“Okay,” Andrew replied briefly

Yvonne hurried over, “Don’t do anything rash.” Her voice carried a hint of pleading, clearly worried that Andrew might do something extreme.

A low laugh came from the phone. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Benson, I’m a gentleman,” Andrew said with a hint of sarcasm, obviously mocking Yvonne’s concern.

Bull! Yvonne cursed inwardly, knowing he was just a scoundrel despite his gentlemanly facade.

After Andrew hung up, Benson pulled her into his embrace. “Is that enough, my wife?” His tone was smug, as if declaring his victory.

“Do you keep your word? As long as Bella doesn’t want to, you’ll handle Andrew,” Yvonne said firmly, hoping Benson would honor his promise.

“As long as you’re still my wife, I’m happy to help,” Benson said lightly, teasing her

seriousness.

Yvonne leaned in to kiss him, her actions filled with resignation, as if trying to confirm his promise this way.

Her heart was filled with mixed emotions, both worry for the future and nostalgia for the

past.

She didn’t know if this marriage could continue, but she hoped to at least protect Bella from Andrew’s harm.

After an unknown amount of time, Benson leaned back on the sofa, his clothes disheveled, smoking. His eyes were slightly unfocused, lost in thought. The smoke swirled around him, making his face look a bit blurry.

The sound of water from the bathroom made him squint. It was like a rhythm, knocking on his heart, making him involuntarily fall into deep thought.

The bathroom door opened, and she came out in a white bathrobe, her cheeks rosy and looking particularly lovely. Her presence brought a refreshing touch to the somewhat stuffy

space.

She had changed and was drying her hair. Benson walked over and took the towel from her. His actions were clumsy but filled with tenderness.

Yvonne glanced back at him, and he nudged her to turn around. They didn’t speak, but the air was filled with a subtle emotion.

Yvonne’s hair was quite long, and Benson, inexperienced, clumsily dried her hair. Seeing this scene in the mirror, anyone would think they were a deeply loving couple…

After drying her hair, Yvonne saw that Benson had changed into navy casual pants, a beige top, and a khaki knit draped over his arm. His outfit was simple yet tasteful, clearly well- chosen.

He reached for her hand, his actions natural and gentle, silently expressing his feelings.

Glancing at her long–sleeved and long–pants outfit, he asked, “No dresses?”

“No,” Yvonne replied calmly. Since starting work, she hadn’t worn dresses. She felt they were too feminine for her work environment.

She didn’t want to go out with him; pretending to be a happy couple while on a trip was tiring. But she was too lazy to resist Benson’s nsistence. She knew that some things had to be faced, even if she didn’t want to.

Walking through the streets of Biscayne Bay, passing by tourists, Yvonne admired the many Victorian and Spanish–style old buildings. She liked them very much. These buildings seemed to tell stories of the past, making her feel a strange warmth.

As dusk fell, casting an orange glow over the earth, she took photos and sent them to Bella, asking how to handle dinrier. There was no reply, making Yvonne feel down and worried.

Benson followed behind her, the two of them silent, occasionally holding hands.

Feeling it was meaningless, they stopped walking around, and Benson found an authentic Cuban restaurant.

The black bean rice and Cuban sandwiches were delicious. Yvonne, hungry, focused on eating without speaking.

At Biscayne Bay, it was nine o’clock when it finally got dark. The temperature difference between day and night was significant, and Yvonne felt chilly. When Benson draped his coat over her shoulders, she didn’t protest and wore it obediently.

At that moment, Bella sent a voice message asking where she was. Yvonne immediately started running towards the hotel. She knew Bella needed her; she couldn’t let her face the darkness alone.

Apart from the main streets, some areas in Biscayne Bay were without streetlights, and Yvonne stood in a pitch–black alley. She felt a strange fear but was more worried about Bella.

Benson walked leisurely behind, a cigarette between his lips.

Seeing her stop, he stopped a short distance away, quietly smoking. Yvonne turned back, seeing the flickering red light of the cigarette, and bit her lip before walking back to his side

Benson’s lips curved slightly as he grabbed her hand, “Afraid of the dark?” he teased.

“Strange place, better be safe,” she said, her voice trembling a bit but mostly firm.

Benson nodded, throwing the half–smoked cigarette to the ground and stamping it out. He knew that although Yvonne appeared strong, she had a vulnerable side. His job was to give her enough security.

They walked into the dark alley, and he pulled her to the stone wall, his actions rough yet gentle.

“What are you doing?” she asked, panicked.

“What do you think…”

Charger 22 The Breaking of Semnity