Benny Palr left, and Christopher felt a little unsettled.
His sister’s sudden visit, with her vague and ambiguous words, made him uneasy.
And the news Benny brought—while ultimately not having any real impact, since he knew Alia and that man were already impossible—was still maddening. Any man who saw the woman he loved being embraced in public by her admirer, and then plastered all over the dia with sensationalized headlines, would want to punch soone!
But if he made a fuss, it would seem like he didn’t trust Alia, or worse, lacked self-confidence.
Frustrating.
The phone rang, and Christopher picked it up with an indifferent expression. A second later, his brows arched and his eyes lit up.
"Didn’t you say you had plans at noon?"
"Why are you coming over again?"
He smirked and replied, "You’re late. No share for you. I could leave you a scrap or two, though."
Alia, driving and stopped at a red light, glanced at the ssage. The corners of her mouth twitched as she muttered, "Childish!"
Looks like Benny’s concerns were spot on.
Clearly, soone had just crawled out of a jealousy vat, too sour to even speak properly.
Alia arrived outside the hospital room and bumped into the caretaker returning with lunch.
"Miss Yang—"
"Shh!"
The caretaker was about to greet her, but she stopped him in ti. She took the takeout box from his hand and gestured for him to go have his al first.
The caretaker quickly got the hint, handed her the lunch, and scurried off.
Alia peered through the door’s glass panel and saw the man lying on his side facing the window, a pillow propped behind his back. She couldn’t tell if he was asleep or busy enjoying the view.
Quietly, she opened the door, tiptoed inside, and approached the bed.
But before she could confirm anything, the man abruptly turned his head.
Seeing her was a surprise to him, to the point that his first instinct was to slap his phone face-down onto the bed.
He was still following that novel.
But the author had gone MIA for a few days, leaving updates hung out to dry!
The comnts section was full of readers urging updates, and he’d just dropped a few eggs of his own.
Rumor had it Lucas King was tasked with finding the author back then. Seems like his assistant lacked good judgnt—couldn’t even handle this minor task.
"What are you up to?" Mr. Hart asked, a hint of guilt in his tone as he made the first move.
Alia had intended to sneak a peek at what he was doing, but seeing she was caught, she promptly pursed her lips, turned to place the lunch on the bedside table, and teased, "Do you know what you just looked like?"
With a pillow supporting his back, Christopher couldn’t turn over fully and could only glance at her sideways. "Like what?"
"Like a student caught reading inappropriate material by the teacher—timid and shady."
"..." Mr. Hart’s lips twitched in irritation.
Sure enough, she had beco more caustic after they reconciled.
If she wasn’t bossy and impatient, her words were cold and sarcastic.
"Speaking of shady behavior, did you pull off those stunts while in school?"
"Don’t sar my reputation—I’ve always been a good girl."
He chuckled, watching her fuss over the lunch. "Afraid of leftovers? Brought your own food?"
"Exactly. Who would eat after you!"
Just as those words ca out, Christopher noticed the takeout packaging—straight from a certain star-rated restaurant. It dawned on him that this was the sa order he had placed.
This little minx, spouting nonsense with a straight face—ha, not a single word was trustworthy.
"Looks like we’re perfectly synchronized—we even like the sa restaurants."
Seeing she had been caught, Alia couldn’t be bothered to act anymore. "Ran into the caretaker in the corridor earlier, told him to take his break first."
She unpacked the al one container at a ti. Noticing the portions were much larger than one person’s share, she raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "This arrived pretty quickly. You must’ve ordered ahead—did you guess I’d co?"
"How could I know? This is for and the caretaker."
Alia shot him a skeptical look but couldn’t tell whether he was being truthful.
After setting out all the food, she helped prop him up into a half-sitting position.
Just as her hands reached out, he grabbed her and pulled her down.
Without fail—kissed her.
What an incorrigible bastard!
Alia wanted to struggle, but the food was sitting precariously on the bedside tray table. One wrong move, and it’d be ruined. Not to ntion the hassle of cleaning up.
So she settled for patting him twice symbolically, and let him deepen the kiss.
Yet their posture made it seem like she was the one who had thrown herself on top of him.
Even as she kissed him, Alia prayed no one would walk in—it would be mortifying!
After three years of marriage with him, Christopher’s kissing skills were, predictably, unparalleled.
Alia initially planned to play wooden and go through the motions, but his masterful technique led her astray—her heart fluttered, her senses tangled...
She couldn’t help but respond.
That slightest reaction spurred the man lying under her to great fervor. His eyes t hers briefly, and his large hand cradled the back of her head, growing even more uncontrollable.
Realizing what she had unconsciously done, Alia felt like her entire body was on fire, her cheeks burning scarlet.
"Christopher..." she began to push him away, but with his injury in mind, she dared not push too hard. Instead, she pressed against his shoulder.
Yet the man refused to let go.
After painstaking effort, nearly exhausting herself to death, she finally wrestled him to release her—his years-long efforts for her reciprocation had reached a near breaking point.
It’s been over five years...
In his pri, energetic and fervent, he had abstained for over five years...
This was torture!
"Christopher, stop it! I’m getting mad! Hey!" She smacked him twice more, both hands braced against his pillow as she yanked her head free of his grasp.
Like pulling up a stubborn turnip, she finally extricated herself.
"You’re too much!" She wiped her lips, feeling the dampness linger across them.
Christopher watched her wiping and smirked devilishly, his charisma laced with amusent. "Weren’t you the one complaining about my saliva earlier? Funny, doesn’t seem like you minded."
The accusation—that she had responded to him—hung in the air.
Alia already felt mortified beyond words, questioning how she’d let herself slip in that mont.
He could secretly gloat all he wanted, but why make it worse?
"Can you just quit!"
"Tsk. Still mad out of embarrassnt."
Angered, she raised her hand to swat him, only for the man to seize her wrist and pull her toward him again.
"Christopher!" Her voice carried genuine fury, her emotions a dynamic whirlwind, even bringing tears of indignation to her eyes. "Your wounds haven’t healed! Stop this nonsense! What if you hurt yourself?"
"If you know I’m injured, can’t you behave for once?"
He didn’t release her. His smiling eyes turned dark and intense, locking onto her flushed and misted gaze as the atmosphere heated dangerously.
Just as he prepared to lean in for another kiss, Alia snapped back to her senses, pressing his face into the pillow decisively!
"Alia Garcia!" The disheveled Mr. Hart was livid.
She straightened up, feeling slightly sheepish, but masked it with resolute composure as she declared boldly, "You have no one to bla but yourself for acting out! Be grateful I didn’t slap you across the face!"
"Are you even a woman?"
In such a tender mont, she lacked even a shred of romantic sentint!
Alia sneered coldly, shooting him a sharp look. "Who knows my femininity better than you?"
She had a child—for goodness sake, not a woman?
"You—" Romantic bantering like this was typically reserved for n teasing won, yet roles here had clearly reversed.
Christopher found her sharp reply vexing, but soon his narrowed eyes drifted down her enticing figure as he spoke with mock sincerity, "It’s been so long, my mory’s fuzzy—maybe President Norton should let revisit it?"
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