Chapter 920

Lucian deliberately called Rosalind "sweetheart."

His deep voice carried a natural magnetism that sent shivers down her spine. When he leaned in, his warm breath brushing her ear with that teasing lilt, Rosalind's legs nearly buckled. She despised how vulnerable she became to that voice.

The pharmacy clerk beamed at the striking couple. "You two make such a lovely pair!"

Lucian's arm draped possessively over Rosalind's shoulders as he smirked. "Naturally. I adore my wife."

Then he tilted her chin up with one finger. "Don't you love me too, darling?"

Mischief glittered in his obsidian eyes—this was purely to rattle her.

His grip tightened imperceptibly. "Well? Do you?"

The clerk watched with rapt attention, thoroughly entertained.

Trapped, Rosalind forced a saccharine smile. "Of course I do."

Lucian wasn't finished. "Say my name when you say it."

The audacity!

Rosalind's glare could've melted steel.

His smirk deepened. "Go on, sweetheart. Who do you love?"

Inhaling sharply, she gritted out, "I love you... sweetheart."

Lucian's throat worked visibly as his gaze turned molten. Seizing the advantage, Rosalind fluttered her lashes and cooed, "What's wrong, honey? Don't you know I adore you?"

He yanked her against his chest so forcefully the clerk gasped. Had they been alone, he might've devoured her right there.

The woman dabbed her eyes, laughing. "Here's your emergency contraceptive."

After paying, Lucian guided Rosalind to the car.

Inside, he dropped the pill into her palm. "Now."

Her stomach twisted. She couldn't—wouldn't—take it.

"I'll wait until—"

"Now," he repeated, steel beneath the velvet.

When she hesitated, he gripped her jaw, bringing their faces inches apart. "Stalling? Or refusing?"

Their mingled breaths turned ragged. The pressure coiled her nerves tighter.

Rosalind exploded. "Why must I bear the consequences? You enjoyed yourself thoroughly last night without protection!"

Lucian blinked, then threw his head back laughing. The realization struck him—she genuinely didn't want to.

"Fine," he conceded, tracing her lower lip. "But you'll call me 'sweetheart' properly this time."