Chapter 111
Elizabeth's POV
The longer the silence stretched, the more awkward it became. I took a few steps back and took the initiative to break the tension, forcing a smile at him. "I was being nosy. Don't take it to heart."
I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, so I tried to sound casual as I said, "I already had someone call the police, and I notified Charles. Let's just get out of here."
Just as I was about to put some distance between us again, a hand suddenly yanked me back.
My body turned before I could stop it, and I found myself staring into those eyes again. Alexander was locking his gaze on me, hotter and more intense than I had ever seen it.
"What's wrong with you?" He asked. The words caught me completely off guard, and I didn't know how to answer.
What was wrong?
Had Alexander noticed something was off with me? Was that why he was asking?
Since when was he the type to pry into other people's feelings?
"Nothing's wrong. I'm just worried about the situation we're in, that's all. We really should get out of here."
I still couldn't figure out what Alexander was thinking, and in my mind, leaving this place quickly was the most important thing.
He frowned, studying me for a long moment before he finally relaxed a little and said, "Mm."
He glanced down at himself, then muttered, "You were just worrying about my injury. How come you're suddenly not worried anymore?"
I didn't know if I was imagining things, but there seemed to be a faint hint of him fishing for sympathy in that line.
I couldn't help looking over at him and asking, "So, do you need me to check your wound?"
If his injury hadn't been treated in time, the longer we dragged this out, the worse it would be. On top of that, I really wanted to know what exactly had happened during the time I was out of the loop.
Going at him head‑on with questions wouldn't necessarily get me any real answers, but if I used his injury as an excuse, there was a good chance I could figure out what had gone on.
Facing Alexander, I reached out, my fingers slowly lifting the hem of his shirt.
The first thing that came into view was the sharply defined abs, the firm muscles filling my vision in an instant. Just looking at them, it was like I could almost feel how they would be under my hand.
It wasn't until I heard a soft, quick breath that I snapped back to myself and realized I had been staring at Alexander's abs like I was in a trance.
I hurriedly cleared my throat to cover my embarrassment and said in a low voice, "I wasn't trying to look at you like that. Where's the wound?"
When I had first smelled the blood in the air, Alexander had deliberately glanced toward his waist and stomach, and I had just automatically assumed that was where he was hurt.
But when I pushed his shirt higher, his skin was perfectly smooth, not even a trace of blood.
I asked Alexander, but he didn't say anything.
I lifted my head, and when my eyes met his deep gaze again, my heart started racing nervously. I couldn't help swallowing hard.
"Find it yourself." His short reply made the tips of my ears burn, and I had no choice but to follow his lead and look around to the side.
I still didn't see any sign of a wound, so finally my eyes moved down to his pants.
Could he have been hurt… there?
I looked up at Alexander and saw that he seemed to realize what I was thinking, yet he didn't stop me.
My hands shook a little as I reached for his belt. The crisp click of the buckle coming loose jolted me a bit back to my senses.
"Alexander, you really are injured, right?"
There was still the faint metallic smell of blood lingering in the air. There had to be blood for there to be that smell.
Alexander answered with a quiet sound, his gaze falling on my hand at his belt. Where I couldn't see it, something in his eyes dimmed.
I hesitated, my hand motionless, my mind in a tug‑of‑war with itself.
Everything about this felt too strange. Alexander didn't look like a man who had suffered some serious injury below the waist and was still this calm.
If I really took off his clothes now, things would cross a line that would be hard to explain away.
I looked up into his eyes and finally pulled my hand back.
"How about you just tell me where exactly you're hurt? This is seriously way too weird!"
I covered my face, feeling heat slowly flooding my entire body.
I was actually getting flustered because of Alexander.
Suddenly, a low chuckle sounded from behind me. My ears perked up, and once I was sure I hadn't misheard, my face burned even hotter.
It was Alexander laughing. Was he actually laughing at my reaction?
So he had been messing with me?
I spun around on him, angry and embarrassed, my eyes full of wounded accusation. "Can't you tell I'm actually worried about you? Just hurry up and tell me where exactly you're hurt."
Normally, I wouldn't have fixated on this so much, but the more laid‑back he acted, the more it made me nervous.
What if things were worse than I imagined?
We were in the middle of nowhere; even getting to a hospital would be a hassle. There was no way I could just watch him stay hurt like this.
"You're that worried about me?"
Alexander suddenly leaned in. His flawless face filled my field of vision, his deep, pleasant voice laced with a playful edge.
I was mortified and furious, glaring up at him.
"What kind of question is that? Of course, I'm worried. I've got nothing right now, and if you suddenly drop dead on me, who's going to take responsibility for the baby in my stomach?"
Right as the words left my mouth, all that concern I had for Alexander found a convenient excuse and shifted onto the baby I was carrying.
Alexander's expression stalled for a second. He narrowed his eyes at me. "Just because of the baby?"
This time, I was the one who froze, not quite understanding what he meant.
If Alexander cared about this child, then why did he find it strange that I was concerned about him because of the baby?
Unless, in his mind, he thought I was worried about him purely for his own sake?
In what situation would he think that was possible? Only if he cared—only if he cared enough to see that as a possibility, right?
A thought slowly took shape in my mind. I met Alexander's eyes and drew in a deep breath.
"Alexander, do you, maybe, for me, you—"
Right as I was about to ask, I suddenly noticed a smear of blood on the table behind him, and my words cut off mid‑sentence.
I grabbed Alexander's arm in a rush and tugged him toward the table. "There's blood here. So you really are hurt? Where exactly is it, hurry up and let me see!"
My sudden outburst startled Alexander. He quickly wrapped an arm around my shoulders and forced my head away, keeping me from looking at those bloodstains.
"Let's get back to what you were just saying. What did you want to ask me?"
At that moment, my head was already full of that patch of blood. I had completely forgotten my own question and just clutched at him, demanding, "You tell me what's going on first!"
I was way too worried to calm down.
Before, when I hadn't seen any blood and had only smelled it in the air, and then failed to find a wound on Alexander's body, I had been able to relax a little.
But now that that bright red stain was right there in front of me, my nerves were stretched tight again.
Alexander stared at me, those eyes leaving me nowhere to hide.