Evander had half a mind to avoid her altogether, but the way she spoke–like she didn’t care whether he came home or not–made him frown.

He stepped closer, his gaze raking over her with unabashed intensity. “This is my house. I’lle back whenever I damn well please.”

Charlotte instinctively shrank back, but he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Damp strands of her hair clung to her pale skin, and in her panic, her clear eyes looked even more heartbreakingly beautiful,

A dark beauty mark near the corner of her eye only made her seem more vulnerable, a touch of sorrow in her delicate features.

His warm fingertips brushed over that little mark, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. God, had it really been months since hest touched her?

She knew that feverish look in his eyes all too well. Flustered, she tried to push him away. “The box is empty…”

“I bought more.” His voice was thick, his palm pressed firmly to the small of her back as he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

The air between them crackled, heavy with unspoken want.

Even Charlotte was startled by how quickly things escted.

Before she could catch her breath, he swept her up and carried her to the bed.

The mattress dipped beneath their weight. He caged her against him, his body radiating heat–just like always, every inch of him capable of burning her alive.

For a moment, Charlotte’s mind shed back to the first time he’d touched her.

It had been her first time–ever.

But there’d been no gentleness, nothing tender; he’d used her like a piece of discarded cloth, rough and careless, leaving her with nothing but pain and a lingering sense of vition.

Every time after that, she’d recoiled from his touch.

But because she loved him, she’d tried her best to please him, to make herself into something he could use–a machine to absorb his frustration.

And now, this clumsy attempt at forey–what did it even mean?

b09-39 /b

bChapter /bb50 /b

Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping out despite herself. She didn’t move to meet him, nor did she resist, but her body betrayed her, tense with rejection–and Evander noticed.

At the crucial moment, he stopped.

He hovered above her, his eyes locking onto hers–full of usation and emptiness, as if bracing for a firing squad.

His voice was cold. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

She met his gaze, calm and unhurried. “You already forced me to kneel for you today, Mr. Howard. And you’re still in the mood for this? What’s next–a p, then a sweet treat?”

His expression iced over, and he sat up, ripping off his tie in frustration. “Have I never given you a chance?” He paused, turning to look her dead in the eye. “Is apologizing really so hard?”

Watching his casual indifference, the old sting in Charlotte’s heart twisted anew.

“… But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Whatever desire had been in his eyes vanished. As they circled back to the same argument, he grew even colder, letting out a bitterugh. “Charlotte, you really are impossible.”

He stood, mmed the door behind him, and left.

Charlotte didn’t try to stop him. She stayed where she was, unmoved, as if his moods no longer mattered to her at all.

Downstairs, Evander lit a cigarette, staying outside until the chill seeped into his bones and his anger cooled. Just then, his phone rang.

Seeing Tricia’s name, he answered.

“Evander, um… Hans wanted to know if you’reing by tonight?” Tricia’s voice

was tentative.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.”

Tricia hung up, finally able to breathe again.

At least she still mattered to him–her and the child.

213

09:39

Evander didn’t make it to the hospital until almost half past nine. Hans’s face lit up the moment he walked in. The boy pleaded, “Uncle, can you stay with me tonight? Please don’t go.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Evander looked down at the child’s wide, trusting eyes and felt a pang of guilt. “Alright. Go to sleep–I’ll stay right here.”

Only then did Hans close his eyes.

Tricia, fresh from a shower, came back to see the two of them together. Smiling softly, she walked over to join them.

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