Out of Control: Into Your Everything-Chapter 56: How Do You Want Me to Give It to You
Scarlett Shaw didn’t answer right away.
She kept going over Julian Ford’s words in her mind, trying to figure out what he meant.
If this jerk was asking, he obviously wanted a certain answer. If she just blurted something out, she’d probably get hit with another round of his sarcasm and mockery.
Scarlett hesitated for a moment, then said very seriously, "To be honest, President Ford, besides being impulsive, I was actually a little upset."
Julian Ford arched his brow slightly.
Scarlett said, "Even though, with our relationship, I guess I really have no right to say anything—but just because there’s no label doesn’t mean I don’t have rights. You keep using that to humiliate me, but I’m made of flesh and blood, not some emotionless machine. You think I’m not gonna feel hurt?"
Julian heard this and looked at her for several seconds.
Scarlett couldn’t tell what was going on in his dark, inscrutable eyes.
Either way, she meant what she said.
So what if she was just a worker? Did that mean the boss could walk all over her forever? If Julian Ford brought up their different status one more time, she was really going to bill him for psychological damages.
The car drove all the way to Cloud Mansion.
Julian didn’t say another word the entire way.
Not until they got out of the car, stepped into the elevator together, did he speak suddenly, calmly: "You want a label?"
Scarlett was caught off guard, and instinctively replied, "I want basic rights."
Julian: "Is there a difference?"
There’s a massive difference.
"Respect, equality, President Ford, that’s all I meant." Scarlett explained.
The elevator doors opened just then. Scarlett followed Julian into the house, and as soon as he closed the door, the man suddenly turned around and wrapped his arms around her waist.
Julian leaned down and kissed the curve of her ear. "Without a label, what’s the point of talking about equality?"
Scarlett: "..."
Okay... that did sound kind of reasonable.
But why did it also feel weirdly off?
Scarlett furrowed her brow, still thinking, when the man’s cold breath moved from her ear to her lips, covering her mouth, teasing and kneading her lips with his own.
"Time to get down to business."
Julian scooped her up in his arms, placed her on the sofa, and came down on top of her without ceremony.
Afterward, Julian bathed Scarlett, carried her to the bed, but didn’t let go—he had her straddle his lap, and casually asked, "Were you really upset today?"
Scarlett nodded honestly, adding, "Though honestly, it wasn’t that bad, it’s just that for a while, my chest felt tight, almost like I couldn’t breathe."
Julian’s eyes darkened a shade.
His hand, draped casually on her waist, tightened, pulling her closer to his chest, and he lowered his head to kiss her gently.
"President Ford, are you ever going to give me the rights I want, or not?"
Scarlett was locked in Julian’s arms, her chin pressed to his firm shoulder, when she suddenly asked him that.
His warm breath hovered around her ear.
Julian’s voice was low and husky, "How do you want me to give them?"
"No matter what happens, don’t ever use my status against me again."
Scarlett pulled back a little, looking serious:
"Our relationship clearly started because you insisted on it. Yet now, whenever you’re in a mood, you just turn your gun on me and say I’m not qualified for this or that—I mean, come on, give me a break."
Julian lowered his gaze, staring straight at her. "So I’m the one who taught you to be bold, huh? Now you even dare to bargain with me, all self-righteous."
Scarlett: "Just answer me. Yes or no?"
Julian’s lips curled. "As long as you behave and don’t lie to me, sure. Anything else?"
Scarlett was surprised. "There could be more?"
Julian let out a small laugh.
Scarlett was momentarily dazed.
This man—good thing he was cursed with a mouth that drove people crazy, plus a heart as cold as ice chips.
Otherwise, she’d have really fallen hard for him and regretted it forever.
Scarlett and Julian kissed for a while, and then, like usual, he turned off the light and pulled her tightly into his arms.
Scarlett reached out and put her arms around his waist too.
Julian’s hand slid up from her back and cupped the back of her head, pressing her into the crook of his shoulder.
Scarlett’s forehead brushed against his jaw, their breathing weaving together, quiet but burning with heat.
For one brief moment, Scarlett suddenly felt like Julian Ford seemed softer, more open, than when they first met.
Maybe she wasn’t wrong. After all, if this had been before, just trying to negotiate with Julian Ford, counting only on her sharp tongue, there was zero chance she’d win him over.
But today, it’d all happened naturally, as if nothing was in the way.
Of course, what she forgot was: for a guy as tricky and as performative as Julian Ford, there was no way he’d really let her off easy.
...
Veridian.
Aaron Carson came in to the president’s office bright and early, reporting the latest itinerary to Julian Ford.
After he finished, the boss was silent as ever, sitting behind the desk, eyes lowered to review some finance data—not saying a word.
Aaron got an ominous sense of a storm gathering on the horizon.
"After you and Scarlett left the supermarket that day, what did you do?"
Julian suddenly asked, sounding lazy and casual.
Aaron’s whole body tensed; his sphincter clenched in alarm.
The Sword of "Seeking Death" dangled over his head, ready to fall at any second.
He braced himself, ready to die if he had to, yet kept a smile on his face. "Scarlett and I just happened to run into each other that day, exchanged a few words, and each went our own way."
Julian shot him a look. "That’s all?"
Aaron answered without hesitation, "Just that."
Julian gave a detached hum. "You can go."
Aaron was totally baffled.
He simply couldn’t figure out what Julian was suddenly getting at.
Aaron thought about giving Scarlett a heads up, but got sidetracked when a bunch of urgent work landed on his plate.
Scarlett, meanwhile, finished playing piano at the restaurant that evening and was about to clock out. In the locker room, as she changed clothes, she saw Julian had texted her half an hour earlier.
It was an address.
He told her to come over.
The location Julian sent was an upscale private club, usually frequented by well-heeled socialites looking for entertainment. It was pretty far from Scarlett’s part-time restaurant, and when she checked the map, she realized there wasn’t even a subway nearby.
She had no choice but to take a cab.
When it was time to pay, Scarlett winced a little inside—determined that later she’d ask Julian to reimburse her for the fare.
The surrounding area was tranquil and secluded, and nighttime only made it feel even chillier and more deserted.
Scarlett stepped into the club, only to find out it was members-only—no way they’d let her in without clearance.
She texted Julian to say she’d arrived.
In one of the club’s high-end private rooms—
A card table sat in the center, four people gathered around.
Julian Ford looked aloof and indifferent, his long, slender fingers holding a card as he tossed it onto the table with lazy ease.
At the same moment, a phone on a small side table lit up.
Sitting next to Julian was a woman in a qipao, her eyes sultry as silk. In a coy voice, she said, "Master Julian, you’ve got a message."
"Nothing important—ignore it."
Julian didn’t so much as flinch.
But everyone present instantly felt the cold in his aura.
Of course, it wasn’t just that moment.
The Fords’ Eldest Son, who usually couldn’t be bothered to come to the club no matter how hard they tried to entice him, had shown up tonight—obviously in a bad mood and there to blow off steam.
Mr. Sutton, the club owner, was well-informed and had already heard about the situation with Julian Ford and Zoe Sutton.
So he’d purposely arranged for the woman in the qipao, who even bore a bit of resemblance to Zoe Sutton.
"Zoe, pour Master Julian some tea."
Mr. Sutton made a subtle gesture to Zoe.
Julian had just played a card, and looked over at the woman. "You’re called Zoe?"
Zoe poured the tea, replying with a coy mixture of shyness and charm, "Yes, I’m Zoe."
"Nice name."
Julian said indifferently.
It was well below freezing that December night.
The private room was comfortably warm. Julian didn’t smoke, and out of respect, none of the hangers-on dared light up either, no matter how badly they wanted to.
Outside, the wind was knife-sharp with cold.
Scarlett, having gotten no reply from Julian, was politely escorted out by club staff, left standing in the chill night air.
