Patricia scoffed inwardly at his hypocrisy. Now he wanted to admit he knew? How convenient. What did he expect? That she would forgive him for nearly killing her and go back to playing happy couple? He was out of his mind if he thought she would ever forget, let alone forgive him.
"I will find sowhere to stay once I have recovered...until our deal is done. If I need you to et the investor, I will see you at the hospital," she said coldly, cutting through the silence like a blade.
The statent hit him like a slap. He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it and shut it again. There were no words that could reach her now.
Realizing that, he simply humd in response and left the room, leaving her to exhale deeply in the stillness that followed.
The next two days dragged painfully slow. Patricia remained confined to her bed under strict instructions from the doctors. Though they had already left, they ordered her not to lift a finger for three more days.
Roman ca by several tis, but she refused to acknowledge his presence. He even sent Kay and Silas in hopes they could get through to her, but she didn’t budge. Not even a glance.
Frustrated and tired of lying idle, Patricia finally slipped out of bed. She needed sothing, anything, to snack on. Two days without eating what she craved had taken its toll. Zara was overwheld with work, and Patricia didn’t want to add to her stress. Every ti Zara asked if she needed anything, Patricia lied and said no.
But what she was craving couldn’t be cooked at ho. Junk food. Chocolate cake, pineapple juice, salty fries, anything sugary and unhealthy. If Maria wasn’t so young, she might have sent her. But asking Kay? That would send the wrong ssage, that she was softening toward Roman. And she wasn’t.
In the kitchen, she searched through the cabinets, her movents agitated. But everything was raw, unappealing. What did she expect? A cold, detached man lived here, why would he stock junk food?
Just as she turned to leave, her eyes landed on him.
Speak of the devil.
Her gaze briefly dropped to his chest peeking out of his shirt, and for a split second, her thoughts drifted sowhere she didn’t want them to go.
Snapping out of it, she straightened and walked past him without a word, acting as if he were invisible, heading for the hallway that led to her room.
Then, without warning, she was lifted off the floor. Her eyes widened in shock as her body was swiftly carried back into the kitchen and dropped onto the cabinet table. He boxed her in, his arms on either side, his body a barrier.
"What are you doing?! Let go!" She yelled, her voice full of fury as she glared daggers at him.
"This is the only way to get you to talk. I will let you go once I am done," he said, his tone low and resolute.
She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want any of it. She kicked and struggled, her hands pushing against him, trying to break free. But he was stronger, and her resistance barely moved him.
Tired of her resistance, he gently caught her wrists and pinned them with one hand, stilling her movents. She froze, breath heavy, her chest rising and falling as the tension slowly gave way to silence between them.
"I don’t care what you have to say," she said quickly, her voice low and laced with pain. "And I don’t care what happens between you and Michelle. Just leave out of it. I am not going to accuse you of anything."
He didn’t respond imdiately. Instead, he sighed, long and weary, and the sound surprised her. Shouldn’t she be the one falling apart here? Why did he look like the one carrying the weight?
"You are different when you are angry," he said softly, his gaze steady on her.
She blinked at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. What was he doing? Why was he looking at her like that?
"I never sent that address," he said. "Kay was supposed to give you the real one, but Michelle overheard our conversation and offered to help. I didn’t think she would interfere."
Patricia scoffed, the bitterness rising again. "So she had your phone the entire ti? Do I look that stupid to you? There’s no way she had it all day, and you never once worried about where I was? Does that make sense to you?"
"No, you are not stupid," he said calmly, "but you are acting like you don’t want the truth, which is stupid."
Then he leaned in, and she instinctively leaned back, startled by the sudden closeness.
"It nearly drove mad when you turned to Syres. I am not good at sharing, Patricia," he said, his voice low, dangerously intimate. "Don’t push away again."
Her heart skipped, his words sinking deep. There was no teasing in his eyes, just raw, aching honesty.
"And what if I do? What right do you think you have to demand anything after nearly getting killed?" She muttered, looking away, trying to steel herself.
"I have sent Michelle away for now," he said. "She won’t co near you again."
"That won’t be necessary," she said quickly. "I will be gone soon enough. There won’t be anything left to fight over."
But he said nothing. He just kept watching her, his silence more intense than words. She turned her head, intending to confront him, but froze when she t his stare.
There was sothing different in his eyes, it was not anger, not pride. It was...hesitation. Longing. As if he was battling sothing within himself.
His gaze slowly dropped to her lips, and her breath caught. Was he about to kiss her? Wait! Why did she want him to?
This man nearly ended her life. And yet... he had just told her everything. Was it a lie? Or was this finally the truth?
"You make it so damn hard to stay away from you," he whispered, his breath brushing her skin, sending a ripple down her spine.
Roman inched closer, his face just a breath away from hers. Her heart pounded wildly, anticipation tightening in her chest. She didn’t move. Couldn’t.
His lips hovered over hers, so close she could almost taste the heat of him. Ti slowed, the mont stretching unbearably.
Then, just before their lips touched...
"Ah! Grandpa!"
Patricia flinched and quickly pushed Roman away, sliding down from the cabinet in a fluster.
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