Hot.

So hot, so hot that one was hard to breathe.

A young girl was sleeping on an English styled bed. Her slender body was covered with a white muslin. Sweat slowly dripped down her delicate face to her thin lips.

The sweat on her arms had already dyed her clothes wet, making one's fantasy for her.

"Hm, it's so hot!"

Lily moaned as she woke up from her deep sleep.

What she saw was a luxurious but unfamiliar room with fourteenth—century western paintings on the walls swaying in her blurred vision.

Where was she?

She looked around.

She saw a man sitting on the sofa at one corner of the room. He had a slender figure as he held a cup of wine.

"Who are you? Why is it so hot here? Can you turn off the air conditioner? "

When she said that, Lily realized that her voice was weak, as if she was sick.

It's too hot.

"Woman, if you don't wake up, I will set the temperature here to 88 degrees and steam you alive!"

A man's voice sounded in the room that was filled with heat.

"Steam alive?"

Lily was a little unfocused. Sweat blurred her eyesight.

There was sound of steady footsteps.

She lifted her hand to wipe the sweat, revealing her exquisite collarbone. When she looked forward, she met a falcon—like gaze.

The man stood in front of her bed. Both his legs were straight and long. The pristine white shirt set off his tall and straight body. Two buttons were loosen, and above, was a face that could "suffocate" a person. His thin lips slightly opened, so sexy.

The room was clearly extremely hot, but the man's face didn't have the slightest bit of sweat.

He was like a man walking out of a newspaper. He's very young, younger than 29.

Eh, why does he look so familiar?

Where have I seen him before?

Because of her long—term professional habits, Lily was a person who was easy to get lost in thought. Thinking of this, she stared at the man in a daze, but very quickly, she came to her senses because the man took out a silver handgun.

And the gun aimed at her.

Eh? Why it became like this?

"What are you doing? Who are you? What do you want to do? "

Lily, who was sitting on the bed, was so shocked that she was about to retreat, while the man approached her with the gun pointing at her face.

She had a face that could be described as pure, and her features were delicate but not ostentatious or aggressive. She was very beautiful.

The muzzle of his gun slid slowly down to her lips, to her chin, then to her delicate collarbone.

Lily unconsciously tensed up. The white muslin covering her body fell to the ground, her hot sweat instantly turned into cold.

"Woman, where is my child?"

Owen stood in front of her, his cold voice swept across her body.

"What?"

Lily was stunned.

"Three years ago, you were pregnant with my child. Where is he now?"

As Owen asked this question word by word, his white hands moved and drew circles on her collarbone with the muzzle.

"Child?"

Lily was at a loss for words. Only after a long while did she slowly calm down, "I say, are you sure you're not mistaken? I don't know you. I never had a baby. "