Love Addiction: Doting On My Love

Chapter 86

ms crossed.

Upon waking. Violet, feeling groggy, noticed Lucius seated in a leather chair beside the bed, arms

silently observing her.

She instinctively recolled, her complexion pale, as memories of the previous night’s harshness came

flooding

back.

Lucius furrowed his brow. He then stood, declaring, “Breakfast time.”

Was he waiting for her to wake up just to inform her about breakfast?

After freshening up, Violet made her way downstairs. Lucius was already at the dining table, yet he

hadn’t

begun eating.

Violet observed his knitted brows and pursed lips, sensing his disturbance. Then again, why should it

concern

her?

She quietly chooses a seat across from him at an angle, keeping enough distance to avoid direct

confrontation.

Lucius’s frown deepened, but he showed no anger. Eventually, he began to eat, showcasing his typical

refined

table manners.

Worn out from the night’s events, Violet was starving. She unceremoniously popped a piece of bread

into her mouth, quickly filling up her stomach.

Lucius stopped eating, and watched her with a look of disapproval.

Believing he was repulsed, she disregarded his gaze “Don’t you fear choking, eating in such a hurry?”

Lucius actually handed her water!

To her surprise, he offered her a glass of water, querying.

This sudden act stunned Violet, causing her to momentarily forget the food in her mouth and nearly

choke.

“Cough, cough, cough…”

Her cheeks turned bright red as she began to cough hard..

Lucius’s annoyance flared when he saw her choking. He reached out, yanked her collar, and tried to

help her drink water, which caused her to choke even more.

Consequently, she spat out water, splashing Lucius’s face and scattering tiny bread crumbs on him,

which covered his face in an unsightly manner. Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

His expression, typically neutral, slowly shifted to irritation.

Violet, still coughing, shrank back, covering her mouth.

“Can’t you eat properly?” Lucius exclaimed angrily, taking a towel from George to clean his face.

“I’m…sorry,” she managed to say.

+15 BONOS

What she truly wanted to express was, “Would I have choked if you hadn’t interfered?”

However, she lacked the bravery to confront him.

“Come here!” he demanded impatiently.

Fearing punishmeher fear intensified, and she couldn’t bring herself to move closer to him.

Eventually, Lucius lost his patience and yanked Violet toward him, harshly dabbing the towel on her

lips.

What was his intention? To clean her mouth? But why so aggressively, to the point he nearly scrubbed

off her

lips?

Lucius was not used to caring for others because he had been spoiled his entire life. The fact that he

was

attempting to wipe her mouth was astonishing in itself, let alone doing it gently.

Violet’s lips, initially soft, turned red from his rough treatment, resembling a ripe, squishy persimmon.

His Adam’s apple bobbled, and feeling an urge to kiss her, he leaned in closer.

Sensing his motive. Violet hastily covered her mouth, protesting. “Don’t! There are others here!”

Mindful of the servants and George’s presence, she objected and expected her protest to be ignored,

but Lucius unexpectedly withdrew.

“Just eat,” he ordered, his mood still sour.

Today’s Lucius was drastically different. Violet felt certain of this conclusion, but she couldn’t figure out

why. Of course, she preferred not to dwell on it.

Recalling their contract and his insensitive demands at night, she lowered her head to eat, deliberately

turning

away from him.

Lucius ate quickly, not consuming much.

He lingered, elegantly wiping his mouth as if waiting for her.

Violet dismissed the thought as overanalyzing. After hastily finishing her meal, she got up and left.

“Ms. Agatha, where are you going?” George questioned her as she walked past.

Violet indicated the sprawling lawn. “To weed.”

This had become a routine task for her.

Meanwhile, Lucius’s expression grew even more grim. “Haven’t I already instructed her that she

doesn’t need to weed anymore?”

This was meant for George.

George, sweating, offered, “Ms. Agatha, perhaps you should rest upstairs instead?”