Chapter 23 Ridicule
Sloane's POV
"No." I denied it almost immediately.
Thinking of my marriage to Jared that was about to end, I closed my eyes and randomly made up a relationship. "He's from my blended family. He's my stepbrother from different parents. He's just overprotective."
"Your brother?" David looked skeptical, clearly not buying it.
But seeing I didn't want to say more, he wisely didn't press further.
The car fell silent, with only soft music playing.
I suddenly turned to look at David, who was concentrating on driving, and asked on impulse, "David, you're a man. Can I ask you a question?"
David glanced at me in the rearview mirror and smiled. "Of course. I'm an open book."
I organized my thoughts and asked in a tone as calm as academic discussion, "What kind of women do men actually like?"
David froze for a moment, then laughed - a clean, honest smile. "What kind of woman? Well... if it were me, I'd like someone smart, someone with her own ideas, not the type who just depends on men." He glanced at me, his eyes showing undisguised appreciation. "Like you."
I was stunned.
Like me?
Independent, clear-headed, even a bit cold.
These qualities that Jared had never truly acknowledged - in David's eyes, they were strengths.
I suddenly laughed, a light laugh tinged with indescribable mockery.
I was really going backwards in life, reduced to seeking validation from other men.
Me - Sloane, who once published papers in top medical journals, who was calm and decisive in the operating room - now pathetically trying to figure out what men think.
"Thanks," I said, putting away my smile. "Turn left at the next intersection."
David didn't say anything more, and the car fell quiet again. Soon, we stopped in front of my apartment building.
"Thanks for the ride." I unbuckled my seatbelt, ready to get out.
"Sloane," David stopped me. He hesitated, then said seriously, "Whoever that person was just now, I think the way he looked at you was off. You... be careful."
I felt a warmth inside and smiled at him. "I know."
I pushed open the door and got out. Just as I steadied myself, a shadow loomed over me from the side.
Before I could even react, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into a cold yet familiar embrace.
"Thanks for bringing my wife home."
Jared's deep voice sounded by my ear, carrying an undeniable possessiveness.
He held me while his gaze fell on David, who was still in the car, his lips curving into a polite yet distant smile.
David's surprise was obvious. His eyes moved back and forth between us, finally settling on me, full of confusion.
My whole body went rigid. Jared's burning palm pressed against my waist through the thin fabric, that forceful grip like shackles.
"Sloane's brother?" David asked.
Jared's smile deepened, but the hand around my waist pinched the soft flesh there, not too light, not too heavy. He lowered his head, his lips almost touching my ear, asking in a voice only we could hear. "Well, I'm your brother?"
That warm breath sprayed on my ear, sending a shiver through me.
I could feel the threat and anger in his words.
I gritted my teeth, forced a stiff smile onto my face, met David's questioning gaze, and confirmed reluctantly, "Right, he's my brother. He... he just likes to joke around."
I didn't want to drag innocent David into this. I pushed hard against Jared, signaling him to let go, while urging David. "It's late, you should head back. Drive safe."
David's face darkened as he took in the scene—me pinned against Jared, clearly not by choice. He started to say something, then stopped. "Alright. Just... call me if you need anything."
Watching David's car merge into traffic and disappear into the night, I immediately broke free from Jared's embrace, stepping back like I was avoiding some plague.
"Shouldn't you be at the hospital with Keira? What are you doing here?"
"Alger took her there." Jared's face was terrifyingly dark. He advanced toward me step by step, his tall figure carrying intense pressure.
I didn't want to get entangled with him and turned to walk into the building.
Just as I reached the stairwell, my wrist was grabbed from behind. The next second, the world spun, and I was pressed against the cold wall.
The pain of my back hitting the wall made me groan.
Jared trapped me between his chest and the wall, his hands braced on either side of me, completely cutting off my escape.
The dim motion-sensor light in the stairwell flickered on, illuminating the suppressed fury on his face.
"Had a nice chat with him?" He stared at me hard, his eyes looking like they wanted to devour me alive.
"You followed me?" I laughed in anger.
He didn't answer, just pressed on. "What did you talk about at the restaurant?"
I turned my head away, not wanting to look at those eyes churning with storms. "Nothing much. Work stuff."
My evasion completely enraged him. He reached out and roughly grabbed my chin, forcing me to turn and face him. "Look at me, Sloane!"
I was forced to raise my face and meet his bloodshot eyes.
"Did he touch you?" His voice was hoarse, carrying a barely perceptible tremor.
"No."
"Then why did he buy you dinner and drive you home?"
His questions got sharper and sharper, like he was interrogating a cheating criminal.
"Jared, in what capacity are you questioning me? As my 'brother' who likes to joke around?"
He was stumped by my words, but his grip on my chin unconsciously loosened a bit.
"David invited the whole department."
Jared fell silent. Only our heavy breathing remained in the stairwell.
He stared at me for a long time, that gaze like a net, wrapping around me tightly and densely, examining every expression on my face.
After a while, he suddenly let out a cold laugh, as if reaching some conclusion, his tone certain and dripping with sourness.
"He likes you," he said word by word. "He wants to pursue you."
I almost laughed at his self-assured manner.
"Speculation." I laughed coldly. "Jared, I'm just having normal social interactions. What right do you have to accuse me?"
"Normal social interactions?" He repeated, his fingers tightening on my chin, forcing me to furrow my brow in pain. He leaned down, his burning breath spraying on my face, carrying intense possessiveness. "Normal social interactions require him to look at you that way? Require him to drive you to your doorstep?"
His voice was very low, with a hint of grinding teeth. "I'm a man. I understand better than you how men look at women. The way he looks at you - he wants to strip you naked and pin you on the bed."
The words were crude and explicit. My stomach churned, and I felt the person in front of me had gone crazy.
What right did he have to say such things? He himself was entangled with Keira, putting on intimate shows of feeding drinks and pressing close in private rooms, then turning around to righteously accuse me.
The double standard was laughable.
"Oh, what about Keira then?" I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "When she looks at you like that, is she thinking the same thing? Or does your male intuition conveniently skip over that?"