ATTENTION PLS

Note

I found out Chapter 99 was messed up, I repeated some stuff and even skipped half of the chapter 😮‍💨

*So this is the edited version of the chapter, the editor will replace it later and delete this author note.

💜Please always comment if you see Double episodes or skipped scenes. It will help me to go back and correct the mistakes 💜

Thanks, I will appreciate it.

----- (JOB IDEA)----

“Anyone would react the same way,” I shot back. “If I stripped naked in front of you, wouldn’t you get embarrassed and look away?”

He froze. Then his lips twitched into a dangerous little smirk. He leaned down until we were almost nose-to-nose.

“Actually… I don’t know how I’d react. Let’s find out.”

“You must think I’m stupid,” I frowned, ignoring the way my pulse skyrocketed.

“I don’t think you’re stupid.” His voice softened.

“I just think you’re the kind of woman who likes to prove her point. It won’t hurt. I’ve seen plenty of naked women. It’s really not a big deal.”

Of course you have.

Men like him are known to be bloody players. Mitch was different too… until he wasn’t.

“Unlike you,” I said, straightening my spine, “I have dignity and self-respect. I may have lost my ring, but I won’t lose my marriage too. So stop trying to tempt me into something I’ll regret.”

For a second, something flickered across his face. Then he straightened up.

“You should wait outside while I get dressed.”

The sudden switch surprised me, but I wasn’t about to argue. I practically fled the room and leaned against the wall, exhaling shakily.

Thinking about my missing wedding ring again made my throat tighten. I could already imagine Mitch’s angry voice:

“Do you know how much that ring cost, Lena? And of course you’d lose it. Maybe if you hadn’t let yourself go… I wouldn’t have paid those girls to come over, we wouldn’t have argued, and you wouldn’t have left the house and lost the damn ring.”

That’s exactly something he would say.

“I hope I survive his anger,” I whispered.

Just then, the deep rumble of a motorcycle cut through the air.

My heart leaped into my throat.

Oh great. Someone’s coming. Probably here to kill me. This is exactly how true-crime documentaries start.

The rider was wearing a face cap and mask. The moment he turned toward me, I didn’t wait — I bolted back inside like a scared rabbit.

Tarzan was already dressed: black shirt, black pants, black boots. The simple outfit had no right looking that good on anyone.

“I guess our ride is here,” he said, nodding toward the door.

“Our ride?” I echoed, blinking in disbelief.

“Yes. My friend Joey lent me his superbike so I could impress you,” Tarzan said, completely serious.

I stared at him. “Wait… you can’t be serious. You borrowed a whole superbike just to impress who*?”

“You.”

A tiny, ridiculous flutter hit my stomach. I squashed it immediately like an annoying bug.

“Did you pay him for it?”

“I did…”

“Are you stupid?!” I snapped before I could stop myself.

His entire expression changed in a heartbeat. His face went cold, shoulders squared, and he walked toward me with one hand in his pocket like some brooding alpha male from a dark romance novel. The playful guy from minutes ago had completely vanished.

He leaned in close, voice low and dangerously calm. “I don’t like being called stupid.”

My stomach tightened. My throat went dry. That intense stare made my knees feel suspiciously weak. For one terrifying second, I almost whispered, "Sorry, sir."

Then — like flipping a switch — he smiled again, soft and dangerously charming.

“But you… you can call me anything. I’ll happily answer to whatever Lena calls me.”

"Idiot".

I cursed inwardly.

He scared me for nothing.

“Tarzan!” Joey’s voice called from outside.

“A minute!” he replied, still looking at me.

“I might be away for a while,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck.

Away?

Why did my heart suddenly race at that statement?

“I had to hustle to get some cash. Used my last card to buy groceries for breakfast this morning. Since you’re heading home… make sure you eat well, okay?”

He can’t even afford food?

My chest squeezed with an unwanted wave of sympathy.

This ridiculously hot man was out here borrowing a superbike and spending his last money just to… impress me?

Why? It didn’t make any sense.

“You’re a really good-looking guy,” I said softly. “You could easily get modeling jobs. You should try it. It can pay your bills and put food on your table you know".

His eyes widened like he hadn’t expected the compliment, then he smirked. That crooked smile did unfair things to my pulse.

“Since you suggested it. I’ll give it a try.”

For some stupid reason, that made me genuinely happy — like warm sunshine blooming in my chest.