Chapter 61
Felice’s bright smile made Claude’s lips curl up in spite of himself. Embarrassed by his own reaction, he turned his head abruptly and bit his lower lip.
She could be stubborn, but she was surprisingly skilled at redirecting conversations like this. He found that side of her rather charming.
“Um… Claude?”
Felice’s voice was small and hesitant, and Claude quickly schooled his expression before turning to look at her. The moment their eyes met, he couldn’t explain why his heart started pounding so wildly.
He’d just seen her a moment ago, hadn’t he? So why did it feel like meeting her for the first time all over again—his mouth dry, his throat tightening?
When their gazes finally locked, Claude swallowed hard.
Her hair was neatly tied back, her clothes immaculate. Unlike all those women who’d constantly tried to touch him at every opportunity, Felice’s hands were always politely folded beneath the table.
Sometimes, he felt the urge to disrupt that perfect composure, and then would feel like absolute trash for even thinking such things. At times, he worried that just a single touch would stain her, like black ink on a blank white page.
But in the end, Claude always caved. He couldn’t stop glancing at her, wondering what she would say next.
Her green eyes were like a deep forest, pulling him in, and strangely, within them he could sense strong, growing trees and a fresh, vibrant scent.
He knew he was the only one having such indecent thoughts.
Still, Claude couldn’t help himself. He wondered what would happen if all that lush green was filled with desire—his desire. The thought alone made him feel like he needed to confess his sins at church for weeks.
He cleared his throat, guilt gnawing at his last bit of conscience, and spoke in a subdued tone.
“You can refuse. Honestly, what I’m about to say might make you uncomfortable.”
Of course, that only applied to this moment. He had no intention of giving up—he just felt she was too pure to drag into his wicked imaginings.
“Claude.”
Felice’s eyes crinkled into a warm, reassuring smile.
“I think you forgot that I’m a romance tutor. There’s nothing uncomfortable about love, in any form. Please, go on.”
She reached out and gently placed her hand on the back of his.
Claude flinched in surprise as Felice leaned in. Her expression was sweet and unaware of the effect she had on him.
“Thank you for considering my feelings, but isn’t it the teacher’s job to care for the student, not the other way around? Maybe I haven’t been a very dependable teacher after all.”
As always, once she put on her teacher’s hat, Felice was full of empathy and comforted Claude as if he was a lost student.
Claude wasn’t about to let the moment slip by—he quickly grasped her hand.
“…I’m relieved to hear you say that, truly.”
When opportunity knocks, you don’t let it pass. That was his principle, in business and in life—and now, in love.
“Ah… yes, of course.”
Felice replied, a bit flustered. Claude lowered his gaze, trying his best to act like the gentle, anxious student she imagined him to be.
“May I begin, teacher?”
Claude never missed a good investment, and this was no exception. That’s how he’d become a successful businessman without the help of his title.
“Yes, of course. Please go ahead.”
Claude listened to Felice’s beautiful voice and made a determination—if a church was opening nearby, he’d better make a hefty donation. Surely, even God would forgive him if he gave a hundred thousand francs.
“Lady Elise enjoys spontaneous displays of affection outdoors.”
He held Felice’s hand a little tighter and idly running his fingers over hers.
“Ah… so she likes holding hands?”
Felice’s fingers curled slightly, her fair skin turning even paler. Her hands were just as she was—soft and gentle. Claude pressed her hand a little more firmly before raising his gaze to her.
“No, I don’t think holding hands quite counts as an unusual fantasy.”
Trembling, shivering—those words described her perfectly in that moment.
“Then… what did she do?”
“For example…”
Felice asked.
Claude gave her a sly smile.
“Kiss me, Felice.”
* * *
A kiss…?
Felice replayed the word in her mind, blinking rapidly as her delayed reaction finally hit.
She wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right.
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