Chapter 38 Cheap Goods
Sloane's POV
He took off his suit jacket, rolling up his white shirt sleeves to his forearms, revealing firm, smooth muscle lines.
The warm light fell on his focused profile, softening his sharp features and creating an unexpectedly homey feeling.
I was staring a bit too intently when a steaming bowl of pasta was placed in front of me.
"Eat," he sat down across from me, tilting his chin toward the pasta.
On top of the noodles sat a perfectly fried egg, garnished with bright green parsley, the aroma filling the air.
I picked up my fork and quietly took a bite. The richness of the mushroom cream sauce and the crispy bacon wrapped around the noodles, melting on my taste buds—it actually tasted pretty good.
"How is it?" He leaned forward slightly, staring at me intently, like a student waiting for the teacher's praise.
"It's okay," I swallowed the pasta in my mouth, saying the opposite of what I felt.
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow, picked up my fork, and twirled some pasta from the exact spot I had just eaten from.
My whole body tensed up, my cheeks instantly burning.
"I think it's pretty good," he said slowly as he swallowed, putting the fork back on my plate with certainty. "You should get your taste buds checked."
I glared at him, too angry to speak, and could only channel my frustration into appetite, lowering my head to eat the pasta aggressively.
After dinner, he brought over the rehabilitation equipment and ointment David had given me, sat on the sofa, and pulled my left hand over without asking.
He unwrapped the gauze, and when he saw those crisscrossing, scabbing wounds, his eyes darkened.
He didn't say anything, just dipped a cotton swab in the ointment and applied it to my wounds bit by bit, carefully.
His touch was gentle, so different from his usual commanding presence—as if he was afraid he might hurt me.
The cool ointment touching my skin relieved the itching of the wounds.
I watched his lowered eyes, his long lashes casting a shadow below them. That serious look made the frozen lake in my heart ripple again, ever so slightly.
After applying the medicine, he took out the rehabilitation equipment, held my fingers, and following David's instructions, led me through bending and stretching exercises, one finger at a time.
"Here, put a little more force."
"Relax, don't tense up."
His voice was low and patient, his warm palm wrapping around my hand, that warmth traveling through our touching skin straight to my heart.
Looking at his focused profile, I suddenly remembered a long time ago at the group home when I was sick, and Grayson had held my hand just like this, feeding me chicken soup spoonful by spoonful.
The softest part of my heart was unexpectedly stabbed with pain.
I suddenly pulled my hand back, awkwardly looking away. "I can do it myself."
His movement paused. He looked up at me, those unfathomably deep eyes filled with complex emotions I couldn't understand.
In the end, he said nothing, just placed the equipment in my hand and silently watched me practice clumsily.
That evening, neither of us spoke again, but what lingered between us was no longer suffocating silence, but rather a subtle, indescribable calm.
I had to admit, my heart was once again swayed by this man.
This subtle calm, like the brief quiet before a storm, was completely shattered the next morning.
Jared was fully dressed, back to his usual cold and distant self. He stood by the bed. "My parents are coming back tomorrow. Prepare some gifts."
I was clumsily buttoning my shirt with my left hand. At his words, I paused and looked up at him. "Got it."
He seemed dissatisfied with my calm reaction. His brow furrowed slightly as he pulled out a black card from his wallet and held it in front of me. "Use this to buy them. Don't worry about the price."
The card's edges gleamed with a cold light, as if silently declaring his control.
I avoided his hand and continued struggling with my buttons, my tone flat. "No need, I have money."
My refusal made the pressure around him drop instantly.
He lost his patience, leaned down, roughly grabbed my hand, and with his other hand, buttoned up my shirt in a few quick moves.
Then, without asking, he stuffed the card into my palm.
"Take it," his voice deepened. "My woman not spending my money—people would laugh. Don't make me say it twice."
His warm fingertips brushed across my palm, bringing a slight tremor.
I looked at him and finally didn't argue anymore, just silently closed my fingers around it.
He curved his lips with satisfaction and left.
I looked at the black card in my palm but ultimately didn't use his card.
I used my own savings to carefully select gifts for his parents at the city's most upscale luxury boutique.
For his father, I chose a limited edition cigar set and antique cufflinks. For his mother, a pearl necklace of exceptional quality.
Just as I had the clerk wrap the gifts and was about to leave, a sweet, affected voice rang out behind me.
"Well, well, if it isn't Sloane?"
I turned around and, sure enough, saw Keira.
Without Jared around, she wasn't even pretending anymore.
Today she was dressed to the nines, wearing Chanel's latest dress that made her look radiant.
She walked up to me arrogantly, her gaze sweeping over my ordinary cashmere sweater, the contempt in her eyes unconcealed.
"Why are you out dressed so shabby?" She covered her mouth in fake surprise. "Didn't Jared give you money for clothes? Or has he gotten too lazy to spend money on you?"
As she spoke, she deliberately shook the diamond-studded bracelet on her wrist, showing off. "Look, Jared just gave me this yesterday, said it was to make up for the wrongs I suffered. And this necklace—he said it suits my skin tone perfectly."
Like a peacock spreading its tail, she couldn't wait to display her trophies, each one tagged with Jared's name, as if declaring her ownership.
Looking at her smug face, I suddenly found it amusing.
"No matter how much stuff Jared buys you," I said, matching her expression with a cold smile, "it doesn't change the fact that you're trash."
Keira's smile instantly froze.
I casually pulled out the black card Jared had shoved into my hands, waving it in front of her face with a shrug. "As for money? He's given me plenty. Told me to spend whatever I want—no limits."
That unlimited credit black card was like a loud slap, hitting Keira right in the face.
Her expression instantly went through shades of green and white, quite a spectacle.
"You!" She trembled with anger, pointing at my nose, jealousy and venom nearly spilling from her eyes. "Don't get too cocky! I'm telling my mother right now, and she'll teach you a lesson, you shameless woman!"
Always running to get backup.