Chapter 289 I'm Not Going

Chapter 289 I'm Not Going
Serena Sinclair's POV:

I woke to the sensation of warm lips against my skin, still half-asleep and utterly exhausted. Murmuring a drowsy protest, I frowned without opening my eyes.

"I'm tired..." I mumbled, burying my face deeper into the pillow.

"Keep sleeping," Phillip whispered, his breath hot against my neck. "I'm not stopping you."

I tensed slightly. "...Really?"

"Really. That's not what I meant," he assured me, his voice low and amused. "I just want to hold you."

His face nestled in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. I could feel him pressed against my back, his arm draped possessively over my waist. Despite how sweaty we'd both been last night, he seemed intoxicated by my scent.

"I need to visit your family tomorrow," I murmured sleepily.

Suddenly, the realization hit me and my eyes flew open. I twisted around to face him, fully awake now. "I haven't prepared any gifts! Nothing at all!"

"You don't need to bring anything," Phillip replied, leaning in until our noses touched. "Just yourself."

"But..." Anxiety twisted in my stomach. "This is an official visit. Coming empty-handed would be inappropriate. What do your parents like?"

Phillip just stared at me, his blue eyes searching mine without answering.

I bit my lip, thinking. From what I understood, the Kingstons appreciated antiques and calligraphy—things I knew absolutely nothing about. Quality pieces were outrageously expensive, and while I'd earned good money at Kingsley, antiquities were well beyond my budget. Those things were serious wealth-burners.

"Can you help me choose something they'd like?" I asked. "Nothing too expensive, but still presentable enough that I won't embarrass myself."

"You're quite demanding," Phillip teased, reaching for his phone. He scrolled through some images before showing me one. "This is a Tang Bohu painting that sold for $590 million at auction."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. I couldn't afford that even without the "million" part.

"They would love this," he continued casually. "I know the buyer. Should I ask if they're willing to sell?"

"I'm not going," I declared, pulling the covers over my head in defeat. "I'm giving up on your high-society world."

Phillip fell silent.

"I was joking," he admitted.

"Still not going," I insisted from beneath the blanket.

Phillip immediately tugged the covers down, his expression genuinely concerned. "I've already bought the painting. Don't worry, it's not coming from your pocket."

"But then it's from you, not me," I argued. "No, I really shouldn't go."

"Serena..." Phillip looked genuinely alarmed. "I was just teasing. Please."

I maintained my serious expression. "Your family's standards are impossibly high. I'm afraid..."

Though I'd started this as a joke, truth crept into my words. I genuinely felt insecure. When Phillip visited my parents, they'd been almost embarrassingly eager to please—a direct result of the massive power and wealth disparity between our families.

"I'll transfer everything I own to you," Phillip said, pulling me closer. "We can do it right now—stocks, funds, deposits, properties, all of it. Even myself. Everything to you."

My playfulness faded, replaced by sincere vulnerability. "Phillip, I'm genuinely scared. What if your parents disapprove of me? What if they take issue with my past? I—"

He silenced me with a kiss, apparently deciding I still had too much energy for overthinking after last night. His hands began to wander again, and I swallowed nervously. I truly had no strength left to match his enthusiasm.

My entire body ached.

"Phillip, wait—" I pushed against his chest. "My waist... no, my wound hurts..."

The mention of my injury stopped him immediately. Concern flashed across his face as he pulled back to examine the healing bullet wound on my shoulder. Thankfully, the scab remained intact. He sighed with relief.

Lowering his head, he pressed a gentle kiss against the scarred area, sending ticklish sensations through my body. I curled up, laughing. "Stop! That tickles!"

He relented, clearly worried about reopening the wound.

"I'm hungry. Let's get up," I said, my cheeks flushed and hair disheveled. Phillip nuzzled against my neck, seemingly reluctant to let go. "What would you like to eat?"

"Something spicy. With lots of flavor."

Phillip frowned, clearly disapproving of my choice.

"I'm just craving something strong-tasting," I explained with a smile.

"Just this once," he conceded. "Try to keep it mild in the future, at least until your wound is completely healed. Then you can indulge."

"Understood," I laughed.

When I climbed out of bed, my entire body protested with renewed soreness. Memories of the previous night made me blush. This man, who appeared so proper and dignified in public, became completely uninhibited behind closed doors—saying and doing the most shameless things imaginable. He was like a different person from his daytime self.

And definitely different from our previous encounters.

Clearly, he wasn't holding back anymore. He'd revealed his true nature.

I glanced back at him.

Phillip propped himself up on one elbow, smiling suggestively. "What is it? Want to go back to bed?"

"Absolutely not," I insisted, dragging my aching body toward the shower. I felt sticky and uncomfortable.

After we'd both showered and dressed, we headed to a Italian restaurant nearby. As soon as we entered, I spotted Lily and Marcus sitting by the window. Lily was serving food onto Marcus's plate, and they appeared quite intimate.

I blinked in surprise. Were they dating?

I decided not to interrupt them. "Let's sit over there," I suggested, pointing to a table in the back.
"Certainly. That table is available," the server confirmed, leading us there.

After we were seated, the server handed us menus. Phillip immediately set his down, deferring to me.

I ordered several house specialties, and the server recommended two additional dishes. We ended up with five dishes total. I skipped soup but ordered a bottle of freshly squeezed juice.

While waiting for our food, I said, "After we eat, can you accompany me to the mall?"

I couldn't possibly arrive empty-handed at his parents' home.

"Of course," Phillip agreed.