Chapter 312
Blake’s POV:
I reached for Anna, pulling her into my arms, but she immediately stiffened and pushed away.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, frustration tightening my voice.
You need to stop. You can’t just grab me whenever you feel like it.”
“Anna-
“Don’t Anna‘ me,” she snapped. “Would you randomly hug a woman on the street? No. So why do you think it’s okay to do that to me?”
Her words struck deep. “So that’s how it is,” I said quietly. “To you, I’m no different than some random man on the street.”
“Seth and I are close too, she interrupted, “but he never puts his hands on me without permission.”
At the mention of Seth, something cold unfurled inside me. “How close exactly?” I asked, my voice dangerously soft.
I watched her freeze, like prey sensing danger.
“Fine,” I said, each word precise. “I won’t touch you without your permission. You have my word.”
As she walked toward the door, I grabbed the nearest plate and hurled it against the wall, followed by a chair.
Outside, I caught up to Anna, ignoring the pain in my back.
“It’s late. I’ll drive you home,” I said.
“No need. Daniel’s waiting.”
“Tell him to leave.” I caught her wrist. “I’ll take you.”
“Let go,” she demanded.
“My back is twisted, so even if I wanted to try something, I couldn’t, I said bitterly. “Holding your wrist doesn’t count as inappropriate touching, does it?”
In the car, Anna showed me an article about Claire photographed with Richard Thompson.
‘Why haven’t you handled this yet?” she asked.
“What makes you think I care about gossip?”
‘She asked for your help, Anna said, watching me carefully. “I heard her.“.
My fingers tightened around the wheel. “Do you know how many people ask for my help every day? I run a company with thousands of employees. I don’t have time for every little problem.
‘She’s not just anyone to you,” Anna said softly, her eyes never leaving my profile.
I felt my jaw clench. The disappointment was crushing–she still misunderstood everything about Claire and me. I felt like I was suffocating, dark sp dancing before my eyes. I silently cursed myself for allowing this misunderstanding to continue for so long.
For a fleeting, desperate moment, I considered using Nora’s condition to keep Anna in Boston for treatment. The thought disgusted me the instant it
formed.
Suddenly, I felt my control slipping. My hands began to shake violently, sweat beading on my forehead. I pulled the car over.
1/3
Chapter 312
Anna’s POV
Blake’s hands shook violently. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he pulled over.
“Can you drive?” he asked, his voice strained.
We tried switching places, but the sports car’s limited space made it impossible with Blake’s injured back.
“Just… hold my hands for a moment. It’ll pass.”
I hesitantly took his ice–cold hands in mine.
“Does this happen often?” I asked quietly.
“Only when I’m heartbroken,” he whispered.
The realization hit me–Blake was heartbroken because of me. We shouldn’t be this close, I thought. It would only cause more pain. Yet my hands instinctively tightened around his, warmth gradually transferring between our palms.
By eleven, we reached my villa. Blake insisted on walking me to the door despite his unsteady gait, scanning the surroundings vigilantly.
‘Open the door. I want to see you get inside safely.”
I took out my keys. “Tell Martha to bring Nora home tomorrow. She misses home.”
As I was about to close the door, Blake wedged his foot in the gap. “Can I stay here tonight? I might have another episode while driving.”
‘Still heartbroken?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Heartbroken.”
When I suggested driving him home, he immediately refused. “I won’t let you drive back alone this late. It’s too much back and forth.”
I proposed calling Daniel from inside, but Blake frowned. “Daniel works hard enough. He’s not your personal chauffeur. Don’t take advantage of him.”
Once inside, I felt unexpectedly tense in the enclosed space with him. My breathing quickened, my body instinctively on high alert as if my territory had been invaded. My fingers nervously clutched at the hem of my shirt.
I stepped back, suggesting Melissa come pick him up.
‘She no longer works for me,” Blake replied flatly, his expression unreadable.
In frustration, I grabbed his suit jacket, pulling so hard I nearly tore the fabric. Blake didn’t budge.
‘I only need a guest room, he stated calmly. ‘I’ll leave at dawn–1 have an important meeting in the morning.”
I opened my mouth to mention Claire, but before I could speak, Blake suddenly cupped my face between his hands. His touch was gentle but firm, his eyes intensely focused on mine.
“If you mention irrelevant people again, you’re giying me permission to kiss you,” he warned, his voice low and threatening. “And I won’t hold back.”
His face moved closer until our noses nearly touched. I could feel his warm breath, see the bloodshot tiredness in his eyes. The threat effectively silenced me, my breathing almost stopping.
My throat too dry to form words. I turned away silently, leading him deeper into the house.
We checked each guest room only to find them all without bedding–just empty frames.
2/3
Chapter 312
Is this a model home?” Blake complained as we stood at the third doorway. Not a single proper guest room?”
Only my room, Martha’s, and Nora’s have bedding,‘ I explained, arms crossed. You can leave now.”
Blake’s gaze drifted toward the stairs, a small smile playing at his lips. I’ll take your room then. I can’t very well use theirs.”
Before I could protest, he nodded as if dismissing me. “Sleep well,” he said, heading up the stairs with determined steps despite his limp.
I rushed forward, grabbing his arm. “You can’t sleep in my room either!”
Looking down at me from the steps, Blake used his injury and the lack of guest bedding as excuses. “I hurt my back because of you,” he accused. And you expect me to sleep on a bare mattress with no blankets?”
When I suggested having his assistant bring bedding, he reminded me again that Melissa was gone, his eyes gleaming with triumph, as if he’d anticipated every objection.
I’ll call the police, I threatened.
“Now you sound like a child,” he scoffed before he turned and continued up the stairs.
In Martha’s room, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The unfamiliar scent of laundry detergent on the sheets only heightened my discomfort. The thought
of Blake lying in my bedding, his head on my pillow, made my skin crawl as if ants were marching across it.
I checked my phone: 1:15 AM. The mattress creaked as I shifted again, distant traffic occasionally breaking the night’s silence.
I wondered if I’d need to throw away all my bedding, maybe even replace the entire bed. The thought both irritated and exhausted me.
Just as 1 turned over again, the sharp sound of the doorbell cut through the quiet house, startlingly loud in the empty space.
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