Chapter 72 Chapter 72
Grace couldn't bring herself to kiss or help him. After hesitating for a moment, she refused with a flushed face and a decisive tone. "Don't even think about it."
Benjamin merely smiled, making no attempt to force her. He loosely encircled her waist with one arm while taking care of himself with the other. Only when the crucial moment arrived did he lose control, clutching her tightly. He lowered his head to press against the nape of her neck, first nibbling gently and then pressing harder, trembling as he stifled a low groan.
The water was hot, yet his body felt scorching against her skin. After a long while, he slowly relaxed and rose to carry her out of the tub.
Grace remained silent, her cheeks flushed—whether from the hot water or embarrassment, she couldn't tell.
Benjamin wrapped her in a large bath towel and carried her toward the exit, but she gently struggled. Seeing his surprised look, she lowered her eyes and whispered, "I have sanitary pads in my bag."
He froze, realizing what she needed. Smiling, he set her down and went outside to fetch them. When he returned, he found her leaning weakly against the sink. Seeing how exhausted she was, he felt guilty. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
He was just a pervert who liked to use the carrot-and-stick approach.
She sneered inwardly, though her expression remained neutral. She accepted the sanitary pad awkwardly, only to discover an even more embarrassing situation. He’d been impatient when undressing her and had torn her underwear into two ragged pieces. The pad was useless.
She froze in place, motionless. Mistaking her stillness for shyness, he chuckled and stepped aside, urging, “Hurry up.”
Idiot!
Grace wanted to curse him out loud and smack the pad on his head. Though, she dared not. She’d already provoked Benjamin too much these past two days. One or two quarrels might pass as a minor hiccup in their relationship, but if she didn’t know when to stop, he’d likely grow weary and turn against her for good.
Courage and recklessness were not the same—that was a principle she’d always held dear.
“Are you ready?” He asked with a smile, turning to look at her. But she was still standing there, unchanged. He raised an eyebrow. “What's wrong?”
She was clearly embarrassed and annoyed, yet she had to ask him for help. “Could you help me find some underwear?”
He froze for a moment, then couldn't help but chuckle. “Hold on. I’ll send someone to buy some right away.”
Though the house was large, only Benjamin and Michael lived there. Since he couldn't run errands himself, the task fell to Michael.
After receiving the instructions, Michael's face flushed crimson. He agreed verbally, but once outside, he called Isabella and asked her to send over several sets of women's clothing. He specified everything from undergarments to outerwear—items Grace could put on immediately upon arrival.
Even Isabella, who had seen it all, was taken aback by the request. Not wanting to ask directly, she took a roundabout approach. Smiling, she inquired, "Even if taste and preference don't matter, couldn't you at least give me a size?"
Michael hesitated before replying, "Remember Ms. Hill? Just buy what she wears."
Isabella instantly understood. "Got it. I'll be right over."
After hanging up, she returned to the private room to say goodbye to Landon and Zach. She didn't dare mention delivering clothes for Grace; she simply said she had to leave.
Landon hadn't said anything yet, but Zach wasn't having it. With his right hand still wrapped in bandages, he could only hold his wine glass with his left. He pointed at Isabella and shouted, "You promised! You promised you wouldn't go anywhere tonight. Just stay with us, have fun, and don't leave! What time is it, and you're already trying to leave?"
He turned to Landon and added, "You're the type who puts misters before friends."
Hearing his wild rant, Isabella burst out laughing. "I've been here half the night. How many words have you actually spoken to me? Your eyes were glued to Xena's chest; you were practically drooling. You're the one who started this!"
Everyone was amused. Xena deliberately dodged aside and hid behind Gia. She giggled as she teased Zach, "Don't you dare eat me."
Amid the laughter, Landon waved at Isabella. "Go handle your business."
She thanked him before closing the door behind her.
Zach was still joking with Xena when he accidentally touched his injured hand. The pain made him hiss sharply. Before he could stop himself, he cursed bitterly: "That woman... damn, she's ruthless. How could Mr. Norman have fallen for such a vicious woman?"
The others fell silent. Landon asked coldly, "Zach, have you had too much to drink?"
Realizing his mistake, Zach gave an awkward chuckle. "I did drink a lot. Xena kept pouring me drinks."
Quick-witted Xena seized the moment to change the subject. Within moments, the room was buzzing with lively chatter again.
As they drank, Gia tugged discreetly at Xena's sleeve and whispered, "Xena, who's this 'ruthless woman' they're talking about? Which one did Mr. Norman fall for?”
Xena, who had also been plied with drinks by Zach and the others, felt her mind growing hazy. Gia always seemed so sweet and sensible that Xena let her guard down. Leaning in drunkenly, Xena whispered the gossip into Gia's ear: "It's Ms. Hill, a professor. She looks prim and proper, but she's got a fierce side. From what they were saying, she's exactly Mr. Norman's type."
Gia's smile remained, but it had grown stiff. She was consumed by jealousy and resentment. How dare Grace, that pretentious bitch, win Mr. Norman's favor? She had a husband! Yet she still flirted with other men—what a slut!
For days, Gia couldn't shake the thought. The more she dwelled on it, the angrier she became. She recalled how Grace had drugged her, taken nude photos of her, and blackmailed her. Though Gia had smashed the phone, Grace had still swindled her out of several thousand dollars. She could never forget that debt of hatred.
As luck would have it, just as Gia was fuming over how to get back at Grace, she stumbled upon a bitter post in her social feed. It was from a girl in the neighboring class, spouting the usual "I loved you, but you loved a bitch" nonsense. Though no names were mentioned, anyone paying attention could tell the "bitch" was Grace.
On any other day, Gia wouldn't have given such posts a second glance. But this time, she read it carefully. Feeling a pang of recognition, she had a sudden idea—a brilliant plan for revenge against Grace.