Alvera,the Revenger,Married the Billionaire

Chapter 4: A Deadly Bet

Roland took a sip of wine silently with his eyes fixed intently on Alvera.

...

Alvera did not know what he was thinking about.

She couldn't see through him,

and she did not dare to guess.

She was just taking a gamble and hoping that Andrina was important to this man.

"Don't worry, I won't tie you up for the rest of your life. I just need six months," she said.

After a long silence, Roland smiled.

Alvera watched him nervously, and her heart was pounding.

"I heard that you grew up in the Earhart Family," he said.

Grew up? She had spent most of her life in that hellscape.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked.

"The Earhart family members know a lot about wine. How about you?"

"I know a little." She looked at him calmly.

He took another sip of wine. Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

Suddenly, before Alvera could react, he pulled her towards him with one hand on her head and the

other on her chin and kissed her.

Alvera's mind was in a whirl.

She closed her eyes and reminded herself silently that she was making a deal with him so that she

could resist her instincts to push him away,

but she couldn't.

All she could think about was that night when she was raped.

She did not like this feeling.

She pushed him away. Her uneasiness did not escape Roland's eyes.

He loosened his grip on her with a hint of interest in his expression.

After regaining her freedom, Alvera took a deep breath and backed away from Roland, looking at him

warily.

"Tell me, what year is this wine from? If you get it right, I'll accept your demands," he said.

Alvera turned her head and snorted disdainfully.

"Why? do you have a problem with my question?"

"Is Andrina's life just a bargaining chip to you?" she asked.

"I'm not putting Andrina's life on the line. Don't forget, if I can send you to prison, I can get you to hand

over the liver donor to me."

He was not wrong. The Francois Family was very powerful and influential in Calgary.

If it wasn't for them, she would not have been in prison.

Alvera's eyes hardened with hatred.

Roland crossed his legs and smirked. "You should have done some research before you came to make

such bold demands with me."

Alvera clenched her fist.

"I warned you before you got into the car. If you regret it now, you can leave. This is your last chance,"

he continued.

Alvera raised her chin and tried to control her emotions. "I... I didn't manage to taste the wine just now."

"Then you lost."

"Let me taste it again. One more time. I can do it," she said.

"Are you asking me for a kiss?" he asked.

"I can drink the wine myself," she offered.

It was already impossible to recognize the wine from a single sip, not to mention...

"No way. My wine is very expensive. You don't deserve it,"

he said as he picked up the glass and took another sip, looking straight at her.

His intention was obvious.

Alvera hesitated for a moment, then made up her mind. She leaned forwards and touched his lips with

hers.

However, he didn't open his mouth.

She pulled him away embarrassedly, and looked at him.

She thought about the rough kiss from that night.

Alvera closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, her clenched fists trembling.

She could not give up. This man was her first step in her plan to punish the Earhart family.

When she opened her eyes again, they were cold and indifferent.

She leaned firmly on Roland. Her lips touched his and she tried to pry open his mouth with her tongue.

Finally, she managed to get some wine into her mouth.

She immediately pulled away from him and tasted it carefully.

She did not notice the surprised expression on Roland's face.

He had never felt so sexually attracted to a woman before in his life, not since that night with Andrina

when he was under the influence of drugs.

Even now, without outside influence, he was not interested in Andrina.

This woman had managed to pique his interested just now.

"Very good," he thought.

"What do you think? When was this wine made, and in which area?" he asked. "You only have one

chance. If you're wrong, there will be no second chance,"

Alvera clasped her hands together to hide her nervousness.

"Did I mention that I don't have much patience?," he continued. "What's your answer?"

"The wine is from 1982, Bordeaux," she answered.

Alvera stared at him, her eyes bright and intense with expectation, waiting for his response.

She had to be right. She could not afford to be wrong.