Ch-43

•~•Aziel’s POV

The door creaked open a few minutes after I rolled in—and as expected, Irene stepped inside.

She shut it behind her without a word, then stood still, arms slowly crossing over her chest.

Her jaw clenched. Her eyes—sharp and disapproving locked straight onto me.

I leaned back in the wheelchair, tilting my head lazily. “What’s with the face?”

“What was that back there?” she asked, voice calm, but tight.

I lifted a brow. “Back where?”

“Your mother,” she snapped. “Why the hell did you talk to her like that? Accusing her of sleeping with your physiatrist? That was way below the belt, Nathaniel.”

A faint smirk tugged at my lips.

I should’ve encouraged her to pursue acting five years ago while she was studying business relations in university.

She was too good at this—playing the concerned wife and daughter-in-law, pretending she actually cared that my mother and I had fought, when in reality, it was exactly what she wanted.

I let the smirk linger, just to see what she’d do next.

Right on cue, she scoffed and dropped her arms. “Is that a smirk?”

“Your mother was worried sick, and you think insulting her in front of me is funny? You need to go back out there and apologize.”

I exhaled. Loudly. “Come here.”

She blinked. “What?”

I gestured with a nod. “Just come here.”

She hesitated, her steps slow and wary. When she finally reached me, I held out my hand.

“Give me your hand.”

She placed her right hand in mine.

“No, this one,” I said, gesturing to her left.

Her frown deepened as she offered her left hand. I took it, gently running my fingers up the soft underside of her arm until I reached the upper part.

She flinched, letting out a soft wince.

I released her hand. “Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”

She hissed softly and pushed up her sleeve. A bruise, faint but forming, was blooming there.

“I guess this is from that guy’s grip. I didn’t even notice I was hurt... I was too focused on making sure you were okay,” she said, her lips forming a small pout.

I gently lifted her gown to reveal bruises on her knees as well—clear marks gotten from the same guy who had thrown and dragged her across the asphalt.

“See?” I said dryly. “You didn’t even realize you’re injured here too, and yet you’re bothering yourself about my mother and how I spoke to her…”

“...Meanwhile, you’re the one who had a gun pointed at you and nearly got dragged off by some gang members, not her.”

She didn’t argue. She just lowered her gaze, silent.

“You don’t need to involve yourself, Solane,” I added, my tone softer now. “I know how to handle my mother. So don’t worry about how I speak to her or treat her, okay?”

A few seconds passed, then she nodded, her voice low. “I wonder if they’ll find Mr. Foster.”

I scoffed, the bitterness dripping from my words. “I actually hope they find him… beaten half to death and dumped in a ditch somewhere,” I said flatly. “And I hope he never steps foot in this house again.”

“Nathaniel!” she gasped, eyes wide. “How could you say something like that?”

I shrugged, my tone cold. “We’re both hurt because of him. My driver’s probably still outside shaking from shock. If you look at it from my point of view, he deserves whatever happens to him.”

She sighed, shaking her head slowly, but I saw the corner of her lips twitch. “You’re something else.”

“I know,” I said, a grin slowly creeping onto my face. “Which is why, in light of tonight’s heroic act, I think your hero deserves a reward.”

She raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her gaze. “My hero?”

“Well, I know I didn’t punch anyone, but I did stop that guy from dragging you into their car. So… yeah. I'm your hero. Or knight in shining armor... whichever you find more suitable.”

She crouched beside my chair, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “I prefer my knight in shining armor, the one who saves this damsel in distress… And you're right, I do owe you a reward for your brave actions.

She leaned in, kissing me lightly on the lips. I wanted to pull her closer, deepen it, but before I could, she pulled away.

I blinked, taken aback. “What was that?”

She chuckled softly, her voice light but teasing. “Your reward.”

“That’s it?” I scoffed, leaning forward in the chair.

“I got hit on the head with the butt of a gun and all I get is a peck on the lips? I need a more intense kiss. Maybe a warm bath together… heck, even a steamy night—”

She cut me off with a look.

Her eyes held mine, the intensity of her gaze making my heart race. There was a spark in them, something daring and heated, as if she were undressing me with just that stare.

I could feel the air between us shift—thick, heavy with unspoken desire.

Then she stood suddenly, her lips curling into a smirk. “Maybe if you had taken a bullet for me, I would’ve done all that. So for now, manage your reward, and don’t get greedy.”

With that, she peeled off her gown, standing there completely bare in front of me. 

“I’m going to go take a bath,” she said in a sultry tone, the sound of her voice only adding to the fire that was already burning in me.

I sat still, my eyes tracing the curve of her body, every movement of hers driving me further into arousal.

“Okay,” I murmured, barely able to keep my voice steady. “How about that bath together, then?”

She chuckled, dismissing me with a flick of her hair as she disappeared into the bathroom.

I stared at the door, a lazy smile tugging at my lips. She always knew how to twist me into knots with just the smallest moves.

I leaned back, stretching, letting my feet fall off the wheelchair’s footrest with a soft thud.

“Damn chair,” I muttered, flexing my legs. “Sitting in this all day is hell.”

Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, seeing an unknown number flashing on the screen. 

“Here we go again,” I sighed, answering before the thought could settle.

“Be quick. I’m not in the mood for a long chat,” I grumbled into the receiver.

The voice on the other end was low, rough. “My intel says your mother’s got the chief of police scouring the city for your doctor.”

“So?” I replied, keeping my tone flat, disinterested.

“Last time we spoke, you said Davian Foster was her psychiatrist from five years ago… that he knew her before and after her facial reconstruction surgery, and he was blackmailing her—threatening to expose her if she didn’t pay him.”

“So… was this you? Did you have him kidnapped to shut him up?”

I let out a dry scoff. “You’re the one who said you’d handle him. Why would I bother?”

“So what—are you saying Irene did this?”

“No,” I said.

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I planted a bug on her phone. I hear her calls, read her messages—remember? That’s how I found out about Davian in the first place.”

There was a pause on the other end. “So if I didn’t take him, you didn’t take him, and it wasn’t Irene… who did?”

I shrugged. “Maybe Davian pissed off someone else.

Someone a lot more dangerous.”

I leaned back, a smirk spreading across my lips. “Either way, it's a win for us. One less rat to deal with.”