Chapter 24: Cat Language

Josie's Point of View 

The whole drive back, neither of us said a word.

Colt kept his eyes on the road, and I watched the neon lights flicker past the window and let my thoughts drift off into the sky.

The moment we walked in, we found Grandfather waiting.

"How is Wyatt?" the old man asked gravely.

"He's fine. A broken thigh bone. A week or two of rest and he'll be recovered," Colt answered.

"Good, as long as he's all right." Grandfather nodded, relieved, then turned to me with a kind smile. "You must have had a fright too. I've pushed your prenatal checkup back a few days. There's no rush. Just rest well."

"Yes. I'll do whatever you arrange, Grandfather," I answered obediently.

The old man smiled as though was thoroughly pleased with his granddaughter-in-law, who understood what mattered. "Go on up and rest. You're a priority to protect now. Don't tire yourself."

I pressed my lips together in a bashful smile and went upstairs with Colt.

In the room, Colt called for a servant to bring dinner up, took off his cashmere coat, and sank into the armchair without speaking to me.

Seeing him look right through me, I didn't care to press my warm face against his cold shoulder. I walked toward the bed.

"Come here," Colt said suddenly, his tone mild.

I'd nearly reached the edge of the bed. I changed course, went over, and sat beside him with my back to him. For the moment, I couldn't think of a thing to say.

He sat up and looped an arm around my neck, his fingers lightly brushing back and forth over my delicate ear. His eyes rested on my hair. "Nice bun. I didn't think you'd have the mood to fix your hair."

"My hair?"

I touched it. "Gideon did it for me."

"Gideon?" Colt's brows drew together slightly.

"Mm. He's quite nice." I said it offhandedly, without thinking.

"Nice to you, certainly." As he said it, something cold flickered through his green eyes, though I noticed nothing.

The only thing on my mind was whether to talk with him more deeply about Wyatt and me. So when Colt spoke, I was honestly a little distracted.

I pursed my lips, decided to say it, turned my head, and asked formally, "Colt, have you accepted it now?"

"Are you still grieving for Wyatt?" he countered, his green eyes dark.

"No." I shook my head.

"Then that settles it. What I can't accept is a woman who grieves for another man and comes to me for warmth. It isn't you, Josie." His arm stayed around my neck, and he spoke plainly.

I thought about his words, and I seemed to understand all of them. "Do you want to hear about him and me?"

He lifted me onto his lap. "I'm willing to listen."

I relaxed against his broad chest and began, slowly. "When I was thirteen, I became an orphan. My parents both died in a plane crash. They didn't even leave a word. They just left me. Not long after the funeral, Walter, my adoptive father now, came to take me to the Callahan house. He said he was a good friend of my father's. The Callahans took me in, but not as a daughter. They took me in as a child bride. From then on, Wyatt and I treated each other as future partners. Thirteen years we were together, and it was always good. I thought we'd marry this year or next. But he never told me anything. He quietly married Scarlett and threw me away. To keep the alliance with the Hawthornes intact, I had to go from fiancée to sister."

"Quite a twisted story," Colt said lightly. He tilted my face up from his chest. "From now on, you only look at me. You don't have to love me, but your eyes don't wander. If you enter my world, you follow my rules."

"And if... I accidentally break them?" I asked carefully.

"There's no such thing as 'accidentally.' A violation is a violation. As for what I'd do about it, you're welcome to try and find out." He said these chilling words in a voice as beautiful as heaven.

Dealing with a king is like dealing with a tiger. That was truly no exaggeration.

He tells you heaven and hell, life and death, are only a thread apart. He can spoil you up to the sky, and he can throw you to the bottom of a valley where you never rise again.

My mind suddenly turned perfectly clear. Since yesterday I'd been floating, thinking Colt was some dreamy, romantic, sugary movie. My IQ must have been chewed up by a dog. He was plainly a suspense thriller, and I needed to stay alert at all times.

Seeing my face go still, he flicked my nose with a soft laugh. "What's wrong? Scared?"

"Not really. Not enough to go weak in the knees," I said, with a trace of mockery.

"If your legs do go weak, that's fine. I'll carry you." He ignored the sarcasm and spoke very gently.

I let out a breath. I had to keep a clear head and not be fooled by his tenderness.

After two days of rest at the Hawthorne house, I gradually got to know the people there, and also Colt's big lazy cat, Princess, who lay stretched in front of the fireplace every day. According to the servants, the Persian had been left behind by Colt's mother, Princess Sophie. Colt adored her. She drank the most expensive milk, ate deep-sea eel, and lay on a handmade designer blanket. Her temperament was as haughty as her name suggested.

Ever since I had stepped on her precious blanket, she hadn't been friendly to me.

Whenever I wanted to sit by the fireplace with a magazine, she beat me to my spot, narrowed eyes the same color as her master's, and gave me a lofty meow. I had to sit on the opposite side.

When Colt came home from work and came back downstairs after changing, Princess jumped off the sofa to give him the seat, then rubbed her head and body against his feet, clinging to him in every possible way.

How much did she love her master?

"Ahem." I cleared my throat, trying to look elegant. "Colt, your Princess is so shameless. Aren't you going to discipline her?"

Colt picked Princess up from the floor and scratched her head. "Did you upset the lady of the house?"

"Meow..." Princess gave him a soft cry, her eyes unbearably cute.

"It's only because she stepped on your blanket last time. Don't be so petty. Go apologize to the lady." He patted her head.

I couldn't help laughing. "By the way, Colt, can you actually speak cat language?"