Chapter 70 I'm Not Jealous
Iris' heart sank.
Donovan was showering here because he had no intention of leaving tonight.
After hesitating for a few seconds, Iris asked, still unwilling to give up. “Since Harrison isn’t coming, how are you going to get home tonight? Are you driving yourself?”
“Where?”
Donovan kept eating without looking up. With Iris there, where else could he possibly go?
“To the villa where you live, of course!”
She had been trying to shoo him away since they met.
“I’m not going back. I’m staying here tonight.”
Iris furrowed her brow slightly. "But I only made the bed in the master bedroom. The guest room only has a mattress.”
“It’s fine,” Donovan said, raising an eyebrow. “You can sleep on the couch.”
“Or...” Donovan curved the corners of his mouth and gave a low, hoarse chuckle.
"We can sleep in the bed together."
Iris' eyes immediately dropped.
She knew she shouldn’t have believed Donovan when he said that a single kiss would be enough.
It was just an excuse for him to take advantage of her.
"You don't have to do this."
“Hm?”
Iris took a deep breath.
"I have school, so no matter what agreement you have with my dad, I'm staying here. I'm not running away! You don't need to watch me or support me for him. I can take care of myself. Could you please go back?”
Hearing those words again caused Donovan's hand, which was holding the cutlery, to pause slightly.
He looked at Iris.
"Are you sure you don't need me to look after you?"
Iris nodded without hesitation.
"Yes."
But Donovan suddenly chuckled.
He finished the remaining rice in a few big mouthfuls. Then, he picked up the bowl of sweet soup and gulped it down until not a drop remained. His Adam’s apple rolled sharply with each swallow.
Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed the empty lunchbox and soup bowl into the trash can.
His long fingers picked up the pack of cigarettes on the table. Just as he was about to light one, he caught Iris' intense gaze out of the corner of his eye. Her expression was grim.
Donovan put the cigarette back.
He picked up the TV remote, pressed a few buttons, and patted the spot next to him.
"I'll pretend you never said that. Come here. Watch TV with me.”
Iris didn’t move.
He was always like this—he didn’t care about her feelings at all.
If she let him stay the night, who knew what he might do?
After a few seconds of silence, Iris spoke softly. Her head was bowed, and her sweet, soft voice carried a slight tremor.
"Then...what about Sage?"
Donovan froze for a moment.
How did Iris know Sage had moved in? He’d made it perfectly clear that Sage wasn’t to move in until after Iris left.
Alexander wasn’t here—it must be those incompetent fools!
Seeing Donovan’s stern expression, Iris clenched the hem of her skirt, plucking up the courage to continue. "Since you're already together and have slept with her, you should take responsibility for her. If you can’t commit to one person and prefer the thrill of novelty, then find someone else. I’m not the kind of person you think I am.”
Donovan chuckled. “You’re not me. How do you know what kind of person I think you are?”
Iris had mustered all her courage to ask that question, but Donovan's evasive attitude made her feel like he was a jerk.
She knew she couldn’t change his decision, but she could at least protect herself.
She would stay awake as long as possible before he fell asleep and keep her distance from him.
Iris stood up.
"I still have to study. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. You should get some rest after you finish watching TV.”
Just as she pulled out the chair in front of the desk, Donovan called out to her from the couch.
“Iris.”
Iris ignored him and sat down, opening her sketchbook and starting to sketch lines.
She let him get angry if he wanted to.
However, Donovan didn’t get angry or do anything to hurt her as she had expected.
He said nothing.
The living room fell silent.
She didn’t know how much time had passed. Iris stared blankly at the messy, rough sketches in her sketchbook. She was just about to tear them up and start over when the man’s voice spoke again.
“I’m not involved with Sage, and I haven’t touched her.”
Iris' hand holding the pencil froze.
She wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard him, but her mouth wouldn’t obey her. It spoke before her brain could catch up.
“You weren’t together? Then why did you let her move into the AT Villa as the mistress of the house?"
Instead of answering directly, he teased her.
“Are you jealous?”
Iris remained silent.
Donovan watched Iris' ears and neck turn crimson in the lamplight. Even though she remained silent and denied it, his mood suddenly lifted.
He continued, "She won't be staying long. I’ll bring you back in a while.”
“Why?”
Iris instinctively turned around, only to meet the man’s intense gaze.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she looked away quickly.
"I...I'm not jealous. I don’t want to go back, either. It’s nice here, and it’s close to school.”
Donovan gave Iris a deep look, with no intention of explaining further.
She knew him all too well.
If she knew what had happened to Sage, she—who had only just begun to grow closer to him—would likely want to distance herself again.
In Iris' world, nothing was more important than living a peaceful life.
Donovan composed himself, looked away, and switched the TV channel to military news.
The flickering light on the screen danced in his eyes like scattered specks of light.
He lowered his voice and spoke,
"You're the only one I've ever chosen."
Iris' heart skipped a beat, and it took her a while to process his words.
Then what about Sage? Was she his lover? After everything that had happened, Donovan still hadn’t explained why he’d let Sage move into the AT Villa as the mistress of the house.
Iris opened her mouth, but ultimately, she didn’t ask again.
She’d already asked twice, and she didn't want to ask further.
Distraught, Iris tore off the ruined page and clutched her pen, hoping to start drawing something new.
But she couldn’t find any inspiration; her mind was blank. She sat at the table for over an hour without drawing a single stroke.
After sitting for so long, her rib injury began to throb in waves, as if someone were gently tapping her bones with a small hammer.
Iris couldn't take it anymore. She gripped the edge of the table and stood up slowly.
She had intended to ask Donovan how much longer he planned to watch TV. But when she turned her head, she saw that he had fallen asleep.
He lay lazily on his side on the sofa, his muscular arm hanging over the edge.
His figure and features were flawless, and Iris found herself staring, mesmerized.
Then she snapped out of it, looked away hurriedly, and tiptoed toward the bedroom.