Chapter 119 Where Else Would I Sleep?

Chapter 119 Where Else Would I Sleep?
Cora’s fingers froze for just a second.
Her gaze softened before she even realized it.
What did he mean by that?
That he hadn’t touched Dina… that the week he’d been gone, he’d been alone?

Her brain tried to argue logic, but her heart had already leapt ahead—quietly, traitorously happy.

When she finished unbuttoning his shirt, Julian’s sculpted torso came into view, every line sharp and maddeningly masculine.
Cora stared for three seconds too long before realizing she was practically drooling. She swallowed hard.

Julian noticed. Oh, he noticed.
A smug little smile tugged at his mouth—subtle, but very much there.

Then came the belt.
Cora hesitated.
Julian’s voice drifted lazily toward her. “The doctor said not to move this hand. You wouldn’t want to ruin the scab, would you?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She knew him too well—if she didn’t help him, he’d probably really try doing it himself just to prove a point.
Fine. Whatever.

She yanked the zipper open.

The brief graze of her fingers made Julian’s throat tighten; his Adam’s apple bobbed twice, his breath coming heavier.

But the flash of that cursed photo crossed his mind again, reigniting the storm beneath his skin.
Before she could back away, he caught the back of her head in his good hand and crushed his mouth to hers.

It wasn’t a kiss—it was a declaration of war.
Hot, bruising, absolute.

Cora had no time to react; he was everywhere at once, furious and desperate.
Until—
Something hard pressed insistently against her stomach.

Wait. What—

Her hand moved on instinct, brushed against something very solid—

Both of them went completely still.

Cora’s foggy brain snapped back online in an instant. Oh my god.
She jerked back like she’d been electrocuted, clapping both hands over her flaming face.

Julian glanced down at himself, then smirked. “Satisfied?”

Boom.
Her brain short-circuited. Blank. Gone.

It took her a beat to process it—then realization hit: He’s teasing me!

Julian was practically glowing with amusement. She looked so flustered he couldn’t help it; his mood, dark for days, finally lifted.

Cora, on the other hand, wanted to melt into the floor.
She’d just touched him. With that hand.
And now she was covering her face with the same hand. Fantastic.

She spun to bolt.

“Hey,” Julian drawled, voice thick with laughter, “you’re not going to help me bathe?”

Cora froze mid-step. He was enjoying this. Too much.

Seeing her bristle, he decided to show mercy. “Have the butler help me, then,” he said lazily. “I don’t like anyone else.”

“Fine.” She nearly choked on the word and escaped like her life depended on it.

The butler, who’d clearly heard enough through the door, met her in the hall with a knowing smile and a glass of warm milk.
“Mrs. Watson,” he said smoothly, “you should rest.”
He then headed toward the bathroom to assist the “injured” young master.

Cora gulped down the milk, willing the heat in her face to fade, and finally managed to breathe normally again.

⸻

She went back to her room, opened her book, and tried—tried—to read.
Two sentences in, the door opened.

Julian, freshly bathed and wrapped in a dark silk robe, walked in as if he owned the air. Without hesitation, he lifted the quilt and lay down beside her.

Cora froze. “You—you’re sleeping here?”

He looked at her, one brow raised. “Where else would I sleep?”

Her mouth opened, closed. “The… the study?”

Julian turned off the light. “I’m injured. You expect me to sleep alone?”
Then, with his good arm, he pulled her firmly into his chest. “Sleep.”

Cora was too stunned to move. His warmth pressed around her, steady and sure.

⸻

Meanwhile, in the next room, Dina sat in silence, face twisted with frustration.

She’d been listening—since the moment he smashed that mirror.
By now, she was sure Julian would be furious enough to abandon Cora for good.

She’d even rehearsed her plan: go to him, soft and sympathetic, comfort him until he needed her. One night, one victory, and she’d finally have her place in the Watson family.

But now… nothing.
No footsteps. No door opening.
Just silence.

Grinding her teeth, Dina grabbed the nearest porcelain vase, ready to smash it—
Then stopped.

This was the Watson estate. She couldn’t afford a single wrong move.
She lowered the vase back onto the table, her hands shaking with suppressed rage.

Tomorrow, she swore, tomorrow she’d make Cora pay.