'I Do' For Revenge Chapter 162: Not A Princess

~HELENA~

"Could you go check on Tye? Make sure he has everything he needs?"

"Yes, ma’am. Have a good night’s sleep, boss."

"Goodnight, Helena."

I walked toward the back of the apartnt, following the sound of water running in the kitchen. When I turned the corner, I froze.

Tye was standing by the sink, shirtless, taking long gulps from a water bottle as if he had just co out of the desert.

I couldn’t help but stare.

This guy was seriously fit. He wasn’t just your typical gym guy; he had the kind of physique that was to die for. His shoulders and back were lined with lean muscles, and his abs were well-defined in a way you would want to run your hands through them.

’Damn, what am I thinking?’ I asked myself.

What really grabbed my attention were the scars all over his body, like a map of past troubles. There were bullet marks, cuts from knives, and patches of burned skin. Each one had its own story, and honestly, I’m sure I didn’t want to know them.

Fresh stitches marked his side, dark thread against angry red skin, and he was moving like they weren’t even there.

"You shouldn’t be walking around," I said finally, finding my voice. "You’ll pop your stitches."

He turned, smirking. "Worried about , princess?"

"Don’t call that." I snatched the water bottle from his hand. "And yes, soone has to worry since you clearly don’t care about your own well-being."

"I’ve had worse."

"That doesn’t make this okay." I set the bottle on the counter. "I knew you were trouble the mont I saw you. Gangster vibes all over. And now you’ve dragged them into shootouts?"

"They dragged ," he countered, leaning against the counter like we were having a casual chat instead of standing in my kitchen at three in the morning after a rescue operation.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Believe what you want. Doesn’t change the facts."

"The facts are that Mrs. O’Brien got kidnapped, Mr. O’Brien got shot, and you..." I gestured at his bandaged side, "...look like you’ve been through a war."

"Not a war. Just a minor skirmish."

"A minor skirmish? There were bullets! Plural!"

"Only two hit their targets. The rest missed. That’s actually pretty good odds."

I stared at him. "You’re insane."

"Maybe." He grabbed another water bottle. "But I got the job done. Layla’s safe. That’s what matters."

"At what cost? You could have died."

"But I didn’t."

"You almost did!"

"Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, princess."

"Stop calling that!"

"Why? It suits you. All proper and prissy, living in your safe little world where the worst thing that happens is a late delivery or a rude client."

I felt a surge of heat wash over , a mix of anger and sothing I couldn’t quite put my finger on. "You don’t know anything about ."

"I know enough. You held that flashlight steady while the doc worked on . Didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, didn’t panic. Most people can’t do that."

"That’s just being professional."

"No, that’s having steel in your spine." He moved closer, and I should have stepped back, but I didn’t. "You’re tougher than you look, Helena."

"And you’re more reckless than you look, which is saying sothing considering you look like trouble personified."

"Trouble personified?" He grinned. "That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to all week."

"It wasn’t a complint."

"Sounded like one to ."

We stood there, barely three feet apart, the air between us charged with sothing electric. I should leave. I should turn around, walk away, and go check on Mrs O’Brien like a normal, rational person would.

But I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

"You know what your problem is?" I said, trying to break the tension.

"I have a feeling you’re about to tell ."

"You think you’re invincible. You think these scars..." I gestured at his torso, "...make you untouchable. But they don’t. They just make you human. Vulnerable. Mortal."

"Never said I was invincible."

"You act like it."

"There’s a difference between being invincible and being willing to take risks for people who matter."

"And do they matter? Mrs. O’Brien? Mr. O’Brien?"

"Yeah. They do."

Sothing in his tone made my anger falter. There was sincerity there, buried under all the bravado and swagger.

"I still think you’re reckless," I said, but softer this ti.

"And I still think you’re tougher than you give yourself credit for."

"I’m not..."

"You are." He paused, his expression shifting into sothing more serious. "I like you, Helena."

My breath caught. "What?"

"I like you. The way you stood your ground when we showed up bleeding and ard. The way you helped without asking questions. The way you called out just now, instead of tiptoeing around like everyone else does."

"You’re delirious. The painkillers must be..."

"Didn’t take any painkillers. Stitches are fine. My feelings aren’t."

I swallowed hard, my heart hamring. "You don’t even know ."

"I know enough. I know you didn’t hesitate to open your door in the middle of the night when your boss needed help. I know you’re standing here arguing with instead of running away like most people would. That’s enough for ."

"I just ca to see if you needed anything before I went to bed," I said, but my voice wavered.

"And if I say I need you?"

He took another step closer. I should move. Should put distance between us. I should rember that this man was dangerous, that he lived a life I wanted no part of, and that getting involved with him would be the worst decision I could possibly make.

But I watched with a racing heart as he leaned in slowly, as if giving every chance to pull away.

I felt his warmth surrounding , enveloping in a cocoon of heat. His warm breath gently touched my skin in an intoxicating way, sending shivers down my spine.

There was tension in the air, and I could almost taste the anticipation between us.

Still, I didn’t move, and his lips t mine.

The kiss was gentle at first, testing, then it grew deeper when I didn’t resist. His hand ca up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek, and I found myself leaning into the kiss instead of away from it.

It was wrong... stupid, and completely irrational, but I couldn’t bring myself to care as his lips moved over mine, tasting and sucking on my lower lip.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with sothing that made my stomach flip.

For a mont, no one spoke.

"That was a thank you," he murmured, his voice sounding rougher than before. "For letting us crash here tonight."

"Oh." It was all I could manage. My brain had apparently short-circuited.

"Cat got your tongue, princess?"

I blinked, trying to regain so composure. "I should... I should go get so sleep."

"Should you?"

"Yes. It’s late. Or early. Whatever ti it is."

"It’s three-thirty in the morning."

"Right. So I should definitely sleep."

But I still didn’t move, and neither did he.

"Helena?"

"Yeah?"

"You alright? Or do you need more thanks?" His lips quirked into that infuriating smirk, but there was heat behind it now.

My mouth went dry. "I... you... we shouldn’t..."

"Probably not."

"Definitely not."

"And yet here we are."

"Here we are," I echoed weakly.

He leaned in again, stopping just short of my lips. "Last chance to run, princess."

I should run... I should absolutely run, but instead, I closed the distance between us and kissed him again.