Chapter 44 Chapter 44
She didn't answer. Her eyes were unfocused, yet she stubbornly stared in his direction. Tears streamed down her face as she repeated over and over, "Alex, I don't owe you. Alex, I don't owe you."
It had been so long since he'd heard anyone call his name that he was momentarily dazed. After listening for a while, he cursed again and stood up to rinse the foam from her body.
The water ran scalding hot, filling the glass-enclosed shower stall with thick steam. As the hot water washed over her, color finally returned to her cheeks, and a soft pink hue gradually spread across her skin. Her slightly wavy black hair clung to her smooth body like seaweed, making her resemble a seductive siren freshly emerged from the water.
It was an alluring sight, yet he felt no desire. He merely pursed his lips slightly as he rinsed away the foam, roughly dried her wet hair, and wrapped her in a towel. Then he carried her out of the bathroom.
She remained half-asleep, letting him carry her until he tossed her onto the bed. She let out a low, muffled groan. He stood by the bedside, watching her for a moment, before slipping around to the other side of the bed and lying down. After staring blankly for a while, he suddenly rolled toward her and pulled her into his embrace. He leaned down, ready to bite her lips. But seeing that she was deeply asleep, with her brow furrowed, his desire vanished.
He released her, rolled back over, and resumed staring blankly at the ceiling. Only as sleep approached and his consciousness began to blur did he realize that the stupidest thing he had done that day was to get this woman drunk.
The man beside her finally fell asleep. Yet Grace remained motionless, lying in the same position; even her eyelashes strained not to flicker. It was uncomfortable, but she told herself she had to hold on. Benjamin was not easy to be deceived. The slightest lapse could undo all her progress.
She forced her body to relax and urged herself to fall asleep to make the deception convincing. Yet her mind refused to cooperate, endlessly replaying her actions and his reactions.
By now, she was certain of three things. First, Benjamin was Alex. Second, he responded to softness, not force. Third, he preferred women who appeared smart and strong—women who were sharp and capable with others yet foolish and weak with him.
A man with preferences has weaknesses. This was far better than knowing nothing about him.
Early the next morning, Benjamin was jolted awake by a loud thud. His first instinct was to reach under his pillow for his gun. When his hand came up empty, he remembered he was in a hotel room. Then he remembered that Grace slept with him last night.
Grace wasn't in bed. He froze, about to lean over to look at the other side of the bed, when Grace sat up groggily from the floor. One hand rubbed her head relentlessly while the other clung to the bed frame. Then, she swung one foot up—she was actually trying to climb back in.
He propped himself up, staring at her, before finally letting out a chuckle.
Hearing this, she looked up with shock. Hanging halfway onto the bed, she froze for a moment before snapping back to reality. She quickly let go and scrambled up from the floor, panicking. She was still wrapped in a towel that barely covered her. Avoiding his gaze, she lowered her eyes and searched around for her clothes. She seemed to be trying hard to stay calm, but her trembling hands, which were unable to hold the towel steady, betrayed her true state.
He lay half-reclined on the bed, watching her. Suddenly, he found himself thinking that last night's tipsy version of her had been far more endearing. Still, he couldn't bear to see her in such an awkward state. In a cool voice, he offered a reminder: "Your clothes are in the bathroom."
She stiffened, clutching the towel, and hurried toward the bathroom. Once inside, she remained silent for a long while. He couldn't help but go in to check on her. There she was, crouched on the bathroom floor, staring blankly at her wet clothes. Hearing his footsteps, she looked up. Her gaze landed on his naked body, causing her to freeze for a moment. Only then did she avert her eyes, feeling a mix of shame and indignation, though her cheeks flushed despite herself.
"Why are you blushing? It's not like it's the first time we've seen each other," he said. He smiled as he said this, reaching over to grab a bath towel and wrap it around his waist. Glancing down at her soaking wet clothes, he raised an eyebrow slightly and said nonchalantly, "Just have someone take them to wash."
"But what am I supposed to wear now?" she retorted indignantly. She realized her mistake as soon as the words were out, and clamped her mouth shut. Lowering her head, she picked out her underwear, intending to endure the damp chill and put it on.
He flicked his toe, sending the underwear flying from her grasp. Smiling at her, he asked, "Was it me who got drunk and passed out yesterday? Was it me who was clinging to the toilet, vomiting? I offered to bathe you, and now you're resentful?"
She didn't answer, but her eyes stung with tears. She didn't bother picking up the underwear he'd kicked to the floor. Instead, she grabbed the wet clothes and started putting them on. But he wouldn't let it go. Still using his foot, he kicked the clothes away. Acting like an unreasonable boy, he said somewhat willfully, "I said have someone take them to be washed."
"But I can't walk out wrapped in a towel!" Her voice trembled slightly and her face flushed—whether from anger or embarrassment, she couldn't tell.
"Then don't go out." He watched her bend down to retrieve the wet clothes again, his anger rising. He grabbed her and lifted her onto the sink counter. Leaning in close, he lightly traced her collarbone with his fingers as he asked, “Grace, weren't you here to show weakness? Why are you being so disobedient?”
She took deep, ragged breaths, her chest heaving violently. After a long moment, she rested her head gently against his shoulder and whispered, "Yes, I came to show weakness. I admit defeat. I beg you for mercy. Please give me some hope. Tell me that I can escape this nightmare or at least die in peace one day."
He remained silent for a long moment, offering no reply. Yet his hand slid up the side of her neck, cupping her face and lifting her gaze. Then he lowered his head to cover her lips with his own. Her body trembled slightly, but she did not resist. She parted her lips softly, allowing his tongue to enter.
This was his third kiss with her.
The first had been in the villa halfway up the mountain after he had just finished venting his frustration. On a whim, he'd kissed her and nearly had his lower lip bitten off. The second had been on the night of her birthday. She hadn't been able to resist; she'd been forced to respond to him—passionately, yet filled with helpless resentment. This time, she neither bit him nor responded. She merely trembled softly, letting him do as he pleased.
Yet he felt better than ever before.
He straightened up and gazed down at her. The desire he'd suppressed all night surged again. His hand slid down the curve of her side and lifted one of her legs to rest on the edge of the sink without hesitation. Just as he reached to pull the towel from his waist, she seized his wrist.
She seemed startled and released her grip. She didn't lash out; she merely shrank back slightly and pleaded softly, "Don't... I'm not feeling well today. Really, please...”