Dangerous Love: You Are My One and Only Bride novel Chapter 1433

Arianne and Mark both broke into giggles. The two took each others’ hands and descended the stairs back to their lunch.

Feeling his hand in hers filled Arianne with an immense sense of security and a desire to bind her fingers with his forever, never to part. She loved the smell emanating from him. She loved the warmth spreading into her hand from his palm. She loved how his warmest, gentlest, and kindest self was always only reserved for her.

She loved everything about him; the good, the bad, the whole.

After their meal, the family relaxed in their yard, though Mark was busy making calls. Judging from the content of his conversations, Arianne judged that they were all work-related.

A part of her watched Smore as he played with his slide, but most of her attention was on Mark. Ever since his return, Arianne realized that her eyes would always drift to his visage given any chance. His gestures, motions, all of his expressions—they never ceased to enthrall her. It was as though there was a sempiternal quality to him that forbade Arianne from ever getting bored of watching him.

Arianne had thought that, given how attentive he was to his calls, Mark must have been oblivious to Arianne’s unblinking goo-goo eyes. However, contrary to her expectation, the first thing Mark did was to turn to her and say, “Alright, what’s with you staring at me like that? You looked at me throughout all half an hour of my conversation! Is there something on my face?”

Two luminescent reddish blushes tinged her cheeks as Arianne looked elsewhere. “Uh, n-no. I just, um, noticed your outfit today is very becoming of you. Your hair too; um, you look several years younger than you are…”

Mark was puzzled. “But I’ve always worn my shirts this way. And my hair has grown a little longer, I guess. I just haven’t bothered to tidy it because I’m not going to work… Hmm, maybe I should go and take care of it some time.”

He was right; his hair had grown longer. He usually kept it tidy and neat—not a strand out of place—so he looked mature and wise beyond his years. Today, however, Mark had let his hair down over his forehead, which allowed his air bangs to make him look so much younger. Some of the strands even reached his eyes, which only ascribed an entrapping depth in his pupils.

God, he had the look of a teenage girl’s first crush. And that was precisely the sort of aura Arianne found irresistible.

Streams of sunlight survived the overhead canopy of verdant foliage as little golden shards scattered all over Mark’s chiseled nose. The light dazed Arianne into a hazy recollection of the first time she came to the Tremont Estate. She had gazed at Mark and immediately assumed he was an angel.