His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 508 Women-repelling perfume

"What’s wrong?" she asked softly as she dropped a handful of chocolate chips into the dough, her fingers moving on instinct. When she glanced back, she froze.

Leo was gripping the edge of the counter hard enough that his knuckles had gone pale, his jaw tight, his shoulders tense. The easy calm he usually carried was gone. His grey eyes looked like a dark storm gathering.

"Nothing," he said too quickly, as if trying to pull himself back into the moment.

But whatever restraint he was holding onto snapped.

Before Bella could turn fully around, he crossed the space between them and pressed close, his solid body warm and unmissable against her back. His arms slid around her waist, strong and possessive, pulling her into him in a way that made her breath catch.

"Goodness—" she gasped.

"My dear wife," he murmured low against her ear, his voice rough with hunger, "don’t you think it’s cruel to make something sweet while your husband is standing right here?"

Bella stiffened, then flushed instantly, heat rushing to her cheeks. "Leo!" she scolded, half-laughing, half-panicked, trying to pry his arms away. "I am making cookies!"

"No," he whispered, leaning in closer, his breath brushing her skin. "You have to choose."

She shivered despite herself. "Choose what?"

"Me," he said softly, dangerously, "or the cookies."

Her resolve cracked, laughter bubbling out of her as she shook her head. "It’s obviously the cookies," she said, teasing, unable to help herself.

He made a low sound of clear displeasure, dipping his head to her neck just long enough to make her knees weak. "Heartless," he muttered.

"Let me finish first," she said, turning in his arms and catching his face between her hands before he could argue further. She kissed him quickly, firmly, the kind of kiss meant to distract rather than deepen. "Wait. Okay?"

He looked at her, thoroughly unimpressed, his expression dark and sulky in a way that would have been intimidating if it wasn’t so obvious how affected he was.

She dragged a stool over and nudged him down onto it. "Sit."

He obeyed, reluctantly, arms folding across his chest, eyes never leaving her.

"And no misbehaving in the kitchen," she added, pointing at him before turning back to the counter.

Leo leaned back on the stool, watching her with narrowed eyes, his mood written plainly on his face, equal parts desire and irritation. As Bella went back to shaping the dough, pretending not to notice his stare, she could feel it anyway... heavy, burning, and completely focused on her.

The cookies, she thought faintly, had never been in this much danger.

By the time she slid the tray into the oven and set the timer, Bella let out a small satisfied sigh, brushing her hands together lightly. The kitchen already smelled warm and sweet, chocolate and butter mixing into something comforting.

She turned—

And nearly jumped.

Leo was suddenly there, far too close, his presence filling the space behind her before she could react. One strong arm wrapped around her waist, the other braced against the counter as he gently but firmly pressed her back, making sure she didn’t bump into anything.

"Leo—" she gasped, instinctively reaching out to steady herself, her palms landing against his chest.

He leaned down slightly, his forehead nearly touching hers, eyes dark with amusement and something deeper. "You’re done already?" he asked softly. "I was waiting."

She huffed, helpless but not resisting. "You’re greedy for attention," she accused, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. "What are you going to do when you go on your business trip, huh?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, her expression changed. A faint frown formed, her brows knitting together as a thought slipped in uninvited—him away, other women around, smiling too close.

Her grip on his shirt tightened.

"If you dare look at another woman," she said firmly, lifting a finger between them, "I will ban you."

Leo stared at her for a second.

Then he burst out laughing.

He dropped his forehead against hers, shoulders shaking slightly. "I didn’t even have that thought," he said between laughs. "Not once. But now that you’ve mentioned it..."

Her eyes widened instantly. "So you are thinking about it now?"

He straightened, suddenly serious, his expression calm but intense in a way that made her heart skip. "Bunny," he said slowly, "your imagination is running in very dangerous directions."

She swallowed.

"We’re married," he continued, his voice steady. "I only have you in my heart. You’re my first priority. Second is my family. Third is my work." He paused, then added dryly, "Everything else doesn’t even make the list."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but she still looked suspicious. "Really?"

"Really," he said without hesitation. Then, as if solving a serious problem, he added, "If it makes you feel better, I’ll buy a women-repelling perfume."

She blinked.

"...What?"

"So no one even comes near me," he said calmly, as if this were the most logical solution in the world.

Bella stared at him for half a second—then cracked completely, laughter spilling out as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Does that even exist?"

"Not yet," he replied seriously. "But if it doesn’t, I’ll have it made."

She laughed harder, her cheek pressed against his chest. "You’re ridiculous."

"I’m practical," he corrected.

Then his eyes narrowed slightly, playful danger flashing through them. "But," he added, "if you ever look at another man, I will not hesitate to track them down and shoot them straight on—"

She immediately lifted her hand and covered his mouth. "No," she said quickly. "Easy. Easy. No mafia mode in front of me."

He paused, then nodded obediently, his lips pressing into her palm in silent agreement.

She pulled her hand back, relieved, and he softened instantly, bending down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

"Mine," he murmured.

Her heart fluttered.

Then he kissed her.

It was a deep, breathless, claiming kiss. His mouth captured hers, his tongue sweeping inside to taste her—chocolate and vanilla and her. A moan shuddered from her chest into his. One of his hands slid into her hair, fisting gently at the roots, tilting her head back to take the kiss deeper. The other arm banded around her waist, crushing her against the unyielding line of his body.

When he finally broke for air, he didn’t go far. His forehead rested against hers, his breath coming in ragged warmth against her swollen lips. He nipped at her bottom lip, a sharp, possessive sting that made her gasp.

"The cookies..." she breathed, the protest weak and half-formed.

A rough, humorless sound escaped him. He looked toward the oven, then back at her, his grey eyes blazing.

"Let them burn."