Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 48: Deep Eyes

Ethan Blackwood gazed deeply at her reddened eyes, a touch of compassion surfacing in his heart.

He sighed softly, placing his large hand gently on her shoulder and squeezing it lightly, "Ms. Shaw, there’s no need to lower yourself to please me. As I said, just maintain your usual attitude. As for the answer you seek, you will know it soon."

Claire Shaw lowered her eyes, "Alright."

The study room.

Ethan Blackwood leaned by the window, listening to Finn Pierce’s report: "Ms. Shaw and Owen Crawford were alone in the private room for ten minutes. When she left, the glass of the picture frame in her hand was shattered. I checked the identities of the other two people involved."

Ethan Blackwood asked, "Did you find out anything?"

"Well, Miss Chapman graduated from the same school as Ms. Shaw. After graduating, she opened a mineral paint studio. Although she doesn’t usually handle many orders, a few paintings have sold for one or two million. This price is not especially high, but most come from some master painters. I checked Miss Chapman’s remittance records."

"Are they to Ms. Shaw?"

"Yes, over the past few years, she has transferred about seven to eight million to Ms. Shaw. The buyers are all wealthy young masters from the circle, and they all share something in common: they are friends with Owen Crawford."

Upon hearing this, Ethan Blackwood understood the reason behind Claire Shaw’s earlier emotional outburst. He lowered his gaze to examine the painting.

Even though it had been marred by the rain, it was not hard to discern the original form, which was not something drawn by an amateur.

"Are there photos of Ms. Shaw’s works?"

"I’ll send them to you shortly."

Ethan Blackwood hung up the phone, his fingers brushing over the soaked drawing paper, a complex expression flashing in his deep eyes.

His cold, stern features were filled with a chilly intent, his entire presence like a blade about to unsheathe, exuding a chilling menace.

Once he finished his work, he noticed the young girl lying on the sofa.

Shrinking in a posture full of insecurity, he leaned over to gently pick up Claire Shaw.

Indeed, the little girl, light as a feather, was too light; he’ll have to feed her more meat in the future.

Ethan Blackwood mused, glancing at the girl who unconsciously nuzzled her face against his chest, feeling his heartbeat gradually stabilize.

Placing her gently on the bed, even the mattress didn’t make a sound; unlike him, even when lightening his weight, there’d still be a noticeable indentation.

Claire Shaw often asked him whether he wanted her or not; heaven knows he was crazy about wanting her!

He knew all too well that once the little girl was satisfied, she wouldn’t think of him anymore.

Rather, giving her snacks occasionally keeps the little girl’s heart aching for more, especially deep in the night, her body accustomed to the instincts he instilled.

Even if her heart didn’t want to, her body would still miss his warmth.

Just like now, simply looking at Claire Shaw made him feel a certain way.

Claire Shaw’s robe was slightly disheveled, the front open, revealing a lot more than intended.

Of all people, Ethan Blackwood was most familiar with the beauty beneath that robe.

Though appearing slender, the young girl was full and round where she should be, with a waist as willowy as a gentle breeze. Every time, he feared he might break her with his touch.

Just thinking about it made him nostalgic for the feel of his hands over her.

In the pitch-black night, as Ethan Blackwood was lost in thought, Claire Shaw suddenly snuggled closer to his embrace.

Her smooth little face pressed against his chest, her small mouth exhaling soft breaths against his skin, causing his body temperature to rise higher and higher...