The lights were soft, and the dishes stead with heat.
"Your arm still isn’t healed." Aiden Fordham’s voice sounded tired. "Let the housekeeper do it."
He wasn’t in a great mood.
Corinne Kensington stepped forward, standing on tiptoe, her soft body practically hanging onto him, her voice sweet and gentle.
"It’s not the sa, I made this for you myself."
She nestled into his arms, like a spoiled, clingy cat.
"Aiden, co on, try it!"
Corinne pulled him over to sit at the dining table. Aiden picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of the food.
The taste was honestly pretty good.
He nodded with no particular expression. "It’s good."
Corinne circled to his side, holding his arm tightly, her cheek resting softly on his shoulder, her warm breath brushing against his neck.
"Aiden, if you like it, I can cook for you every day."
Her voice carried expectation.
"Or... how about we get married?"
Aiden’s hand holding the chopsticks froze.
He was silent for a few seconds, then slowly set down his chopsticks.
"I’ve got work at the company. I need to take care of it."
He stood up and walked straight towards the study.
The study was dark, only dim moonlight coming in from outside.
Aiden slumped into the wide leather chair and closed his eyes.
In his mind, Stella Grant held onto his shirt, begging him not to leave.
Those clear, stubborn eyes overflowed with humble pleading.
He rembered—at that mont, his heart ached for her.
If he hadn’t disappointed her once again, how could she be so cold to him now?
Scenes flashed uncontrollably through his head.
In the manor, she clumsily fell in the bathroom, her eyes rimd red.
At the stables, she panicked and fell off her horse. He’d leapt to save her, the two of them plunging into the icy river, shivering as she clung to him and scread for help.
And that ti, when she was eating BBQ and watching Frances Fordham dance her fiery routine, looking so proud...
She was like a seed, unknowingly having already taken root in his heart.
But why did he keep pushing her away, refusing to ever stay for her?
Aiden’s brows furrowed tightly, a heavy blockage in his chest.
...
Sterling Family ho, in the princess-sized 200-square-ter bedroom.
Vivi Sterling and Stella Grant lounged comfortably, both wearing matching cartoon pajamas.
The bedspread was scattered with heaps of n’s photos.
"Stella, look! Isn’t this eldest Whitman boy just too much? That face! So hot and also tough."
Vivi held up a photo, clicking her tongue in admiration.
"Wait, actually, he kinda looks like you around the eyes, doesn’t he?"
She held the photo beside Stella’s face, looking left and right—he really did!
Stella lifted her hand, slapping Vivi’s paws away with exasperation.
"Enough. The Whitmans are tied up in the military; it’s way too ssy, and you’re not equipped to handle it."
She pointed at a few others. "Look, these guys—family has mines, brains are mush, pockets deep, and not the least bit flaky. Perfect for you."
Vivi nodded as if pondering a serious truth.
"You’re right. Any guy this gorgeous needs to be either claid by , or destroyed on the spot!"
She made a chopping gesture, looking fierce-eyed.
Stella glanced at her, unable to help herself. "Who did you inherit that bandit attitude from?"
Next room over, Mrs. Sterling suddenly flung out her leg while sleeping and kicked Mr. Sterling off the bed.
"Bandit! How dare you block my way?!"
Mr. Sterling, completely bewildered, clutched his pillow and scrambled out in a panic.
...
It was deep in the night.
The door to Aiden’s bedroom was quietly pushed open, just a sliver.
Corinne Kensington, wrapped in a barely-there, sexy nightdress, barefoot, crept soundlessly inside.
She went to the bed, lifted the covers a bit, and lay down beside Aiden.
Then she stretched out her arm, gently hugging his warm body from behind.
Almost the instant she touched him, Aiden woke up.
His body tensed at once, and his eyes snapped open, alert and clear, with no trace of sleepiness.
Corinne’s voice was soft, trembling with a hint of grievance as she spoke close to his back.
"Aiden, I’m scared to sleep alone. I just... can’t sleep."
Her voice was syrupy sweet with a purposeful quiver.
"Click."
The bedside lamp ca on, the harsh light instantly chasing away the darkness.
Aiden sat up with a sudden motion, tossed off the covers, and swiftly got out of bed.
Standing by the bed, his tall figure cast an imposing shadow under the light.
He wore only boxer shorts, muscles firm and defined, radiating male strength.
He frowned, looking down at Corinne who was still lingering on the bed, his gaze icy cold.
"Out."
His voice held not a trace of warmth.
Corinne didn’t leave. Instead, she crawled to the edge of the bed and lifted her face to look at him.
She reached out a pale little hand, cautiously clutching his large hand hanging by his side.
This pose forced her to look up at him, while he only had to lower his eyes to take in every inch of her exposed vulnerability.
She bit her lower lip, her voice trembling on the verge of tears.
"Aiden, please don’t reject anymore, okay? I really want... I want to stay by your side."
"I want to cook for you, take care of you, be your perfect wife, give you children..."
"Aiden, please don’t chase away, I beg you."
Her eyes quickly filled with tears, shimring under the light—her pitiful, seductive look enough to lt any normal man’s resolve.
But Aiden wasn’t "any" man. He shook off her hand with an expressionless face.
Corinne’s hand was flung away, her fingertips brushing his rough, callused palm, bringing a flicker of pain.
Aiden turned, giving her his back, taking a deep breath as though wrestling sothing down inside.
"Corinne. Leave. Now."
His voice was even heavier than before, packed with the weight of an order that brooked no resistance.
Corinne acted like she hadn’t heard, suddenly launching herself from the bed and wrapping her arms tightly around his strong fra from behind.
Her cheek pressed to his hot back, feeling the tension in his muscles.
"Aiden! Don’t reject ! You promised... You said so! You told to give myself to you!"
Her voice broke with sobs, arms squeezing tighter.
"Even though... Even though it’s years late, my body and my heart have always been yours!"
Yes, he had said that.
Four years ago, just after he realized he loved this girl, swept up in passion, he’d said it half-jokingly, half-seriously.
But what happened after?
Three years ago, he got into a terrible car accident—left him blind.
On the hospital bed, the first person he thought of was her; he had soone seek her out, told her he wanted to marry her.
She agreed.
But the next day, she fled, vanishing without a trace.
From that mont, everything changed.
All his old heartbeats and promises beca a joke.
Aiden’s whole aura grew colder and more forbidding.
He didn’t try to shake her off, just spoke with chilling calm, every word sharp as ice shards hitting the floor.
"Corinne, I’m sorry. I can’t marry you!"
Blatant, unequivocal refusal. Only now did he truly see into his own heart.
No matter how much pity he felt for her, there was always an undertone of gratitude, never pure love.
Those old feelings were long gone.
Corinne’s arms, holding onto him, went abruptly stiff.
The coquettishness and grievance on her face disappeared, replaced with panic and fear.
She let go, stepping back, tears finally falling.
"Aiden... I was wrong, isn’t it enough that I’m sorry?"
"I won’t push you anymore, really—I swear, I won’t ever push you again..."
Her voice tumbled out, trembling and lost.
"Please don’t chase out... I won’t disturb your rest anymore..."
Finishing, it was as if she couldn’t bear another second beneath his cold stare. She turned and fled from the room, stumbling in her haste.
The door slamd shut behind her.
Outside in the corridor, Corinne leaned against the cold wall, scrubbing the tears from her face with force.
The weak, pitiful look was gone, replaced by sothing dark and ruthless.
Her eyes glinted viciously at the closed door, jaw clenched tight.
"Stella Grant... This is all your fault!"
Inside the room, Aiden lay back on the bed—sleep nowhere to be found.
In the dark, his eyes stayed open, staring at the ceiling.
He lay like that, not knowing how long, until exhaustion finally crept over him and he drifted in and out of dreams.
In his sleep, there were familiar, passionate entanglents; she enveloped in warmth, nibbling him like a little cat.
His arm tightened involuntarily, a low murmur slipping from his lips.
"Stella..."
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