Erica began to wonder if Wesley was really her father. How could he speak to her this way? The man was acting like her sworn enemy. He was even more hateful than Reese.

As the night fell, Matthew arrived at the villa two hours earlier than before. There was no light in the living room except the grayish glare of the TV.

Moving slowly and silently, he crept up to the sofa from behind. Without even looking, he'd known what was on the screen.

It showed a cemetery with two human figures standing in the middle of it. More precisely, it was two ghosts.

With much precision, Matthew reached out and patted Erica on the shoulder, then quickly drew himself back.

"Ah!" Erica screamed and shook.

As she twisted around, Matthew saw her face had instantly gone pale. He'd expected this reaction; it was the second time she'd been scared to death like that.

It took her a few seconds to recognize who had touched her. She calmed down quickly enough, but if looks could kill, Matthew would have dropped dead right then and there.

"Can you not do that when you come back next time?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice down. "Having to deal with you is worse than having real ghosts around. Do you realize that?"

There was a trace of a smile in Matthew's eyes. "What do you want me to do next time?" he asked.

"Call me in advance!" she snapped. "Actually, no, that won't do either. The phone ringing suddenly will scare me too. Just go right upstairs without bothering me." Erica just wanted to enjoy a horror movie without any interruptions. She didn't think it was too much to ask.

To her surprise, as soon as she finished speaking, Matthew went over and turned off the TV. "Let's go upstairs," he said casually.

"What did you do that for? I haven't finished watching that!" Indignant, Erica sat on the back of the sofa. This made her almost as tall as Matthew, and she didn't care how ridiculous she looked.

Without a word, Matthew came over and scooped her up in his arms.

Erica was almost as startled as she'd been just a moment ago. Red faced, she reflexively wrapped her arms around his neck and stammered, "Put me down. I can walk by myself!"

Matthew was already carrying her across the room. "You are unwilling to go upstairs. I have to carry you."

"Later, maybe! I was still watching that movie, you know..."

When they reached the stairway, Matthew stopped and asked, "Do you still want me to put you down?"

Erica hesitated. Her shoes were still back in the living room. She wasn't wearing socks either. The floor was made of customized marble, so it would be cold if she stepped on it.

Didn't he care if she would get a cold? If he didn't... "Put me down. I'll go upstairs by myself and wash my feet later," she said.

"Why don't you put on the new nightgown for me first?" he suggested.

'The nightgown...' At the mention of this, Erica's face flushed crimson. She struggled for a second, then jumped out of his arms. Barefoot, she ignored the freezing floor and ran upstairs.

"Stop!" cried Matthew, giving chase. There was no carpet on the steps, so they would also be rather chilly at this time of night. He was worried that she might catch a cold.

But his protest only made Erica go even faster and, soon she reached the third floor. She sighed with relief when she felt the warmth of the hallway's carpet.

Catching up with her, Matthew took her in his arms again and strode with her to the bedroom.

They went straight through it and into the bathroom.

Gingerly he set her down on a stool. Taking out a brand-new basin, he filled it with 40-degree water and placed it in front of her. "Wash your feet," he ordered coldly.

'What? Did the powerful Mr. Huo just run me a basin of water to help me wash my feet?' she wondered.

Erica couldn't help but chuckle. She was starting to enjoy this and couldn't hide her emotions.

'Am I dreaming?' she thought.

She pinched her face, too hard, and winced. She was awake, all right.

Matthew noticed her goofy expression. With a deep look of disgust, he reached out and pushed her feet into the basin rudely.

Pretending not to notice, Erica closed her eyes. "It's so comfortable," she remarked with satisfaction.

"I've never seen a woman as silly as you," Matthew replied, still crouching in front of her.

Erica's good mood wasn't hindered in the slightest.

Eventually she opened her eyes. With her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on one hand, she gazed at this man who disliked her so intensely. "Matthew, I have a suggestion. Let's make do with each other for the rest of our lives! Forget about the woman you like, and I will forget about Aaron too."

She had found that Matthew treated her even better than Wesley did, and so she was reluctant to leave him.

Matthew's glance was haughty and distant. "No."

Erica did her best to hide her disappointment. 'What a pity!' she thought as she moved her feet around in the basin. The massage machine at its bottom felt incredible.

Matthew frowned at how she seemed to be taking her time with the whole feet-washing business. "Why don't you use your hands?" he asked sulkily.

"What's the rush? I want to take my time. This massage machine is incredible. What brand is it? I want to buy one of my own." She talked as if she had never seen a foot massage machine before.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Unable to take it anymore, Matthew stood up, took off his suit jacket, and set it aside.

Erica got nervous as he started untying his tie. "Why... why are you taking off your clothes?" she asked warily. Did he have some creepy quirks?

Matthew rolled his eyes and threw his tie away without even looking at her. Then he unbuttoned his cuffs.

A possibility occurred to Erica. "Are you going to take a shower?"

With a chilly look at her, he rolled up his sleeves, and squatted down in front of Erica. Reaching into the basin, he took hold of her feet and started rubbing them.

Realizing that he was washing them, Erica wanted to draw back, but his grip was strong, and she couldn't escape it.

Matthew spoke through gritted teeth. "As far as I'm concerned, from now on, you're just a child who can't take care of herself. Just like Ethan." There was no mistaking the loathing in his voice.

His words sank in as Erica sat there, and her good mood finally began to ebb. Being treated like a baby, she couldn't help but feel frustrated.

In the meantime, his big hands continued to work at her feet, efficient but a little bit rough. Feeling wronged, Erica pouted and spoke. "You misunderstood. I can take care of myself. I just have a problem of procrastination."

If she could not even wash her own feet, she would be really useless.

Without even raising his head, Matthew replied, "Shut up. The more you talk, the more you make me think of divorcing you."

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