CHAPTER 57: CHAPTER 57: THE HORSE PANICS AND BOLTS

Damn! How did I just fall like that?

I’ve been alive for over twenty years and have never been this embarrassed; and of all people, it had to be him who saw it!

Aiden Fordham gently laid her down on the big bed in the bedroom.

The heavy scent of alcohol on him mixed with a hint of fresh body wash, creating a strange and somewhat dangerous vibe that hovered between them.

Stella Grant hurriedly tightened the bath towel around herself, wrapping up even more, wishing she could dig a hole and crawl into it.

Even though they were husband and wife, and had been much more intimate before.

But that was always under specific circumstances, with a purpose behind it.

He’d never bathed her before, and they never shared that kind of gentle intimacy common between married couples.

Now, this unexpected, bare-all situation left both of them in an unprecedentedly awkward position.

Aiden stood by the bed, looking down at her from above.

"You, get out. I’m fine!" Stella said coldly.

He stared at her flushed cheeks, wet hair, and the curves barely hidden under the towel.

His Adam’s apple moved involuntarily.

After a silent moment, he suddenly spoke, his voice carrying a strange chill, "Stella Grant, are you seducing me?"

His words came out flat but were like a bucket of ice water dumped right over Stella’s head.

She jerked her head up, staring at him in disbelief—her embarrassment and awkwardness instantly replaced by anger.

"Aiden Fordham!" Her voice was shaking with rage.

"Are you blind? Didn’t you see me fall?"

Is there something wrong with his brain? She’d almost broken a bone just moments ago, and he actually thought she was seducing him?

Is there no justice left in this world!

Aiden’s face was expressionless, but his eyes locked tightly onto her.

"I’m not blind." He replied coolly, his tone certain. "I saw it perfectly clearly."

That scene in the bathroom—so blindingly white, so intense—it even triggered some reaction in him.

He could still remember the feel of her skin, cold and smooth.

That’s exactly why he felt like this was an elaborate show she was putting on.

Stella was struck speechless by his "I saw it perfectly clearly."

This man was absolutely impossible! What the hell was that look in his eyes?

Does he really think she fell in front of him on purpose just to put on this act?

She was shaking with anger, fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. Through gritted teeth, she squeezed out a few words.

"Get out!" Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a decisive fury.

Aiden gave her a long look, his eyes deep and unreadable.

He didn’t say another word, just turned and left with a cold face.

With a bang, the door was slammed shut.

The two worlds were finally separated.

Aiden leaned against the wall outside the door, feeling the alcohol hit him even harder.

He closed his eyes, but the images from just moments ago flashed uncontrollably through his mind.

That snowy white skin, that wet black hair, and her panicked and ashamed eyes.

A wave of heat burned in his body.

Damn it.

He cursed low, irritably yanking off his tie and tossing it on the floor.

The scene just now felt like a fuse had been lit deep within his body.

Those desires he’d been desperately suppressing surged up—how long had it been since he’d been close to her?

He couldn’t sleep.

Lying in his own bed, tossing and turning. In the dark, his eyes were wide open—he had no sleep at all.

His mind was a mess, filled with nothing but her image.

Later, he must’ve fallen asleep somehow.

In the blur between dream and waking, he found himself back at The Sovereign Estate. Back then, he took whatever he wanted from her and did as he pleased.

The scenes in his dream were a tangled chaos of passion.

Her gasps, her response, her resistance... all those buried fragments of memory were now crystal clear.

The more he’d indulged before, the more torturous it felt now—the battle between physical longing and rational restraint tearing him apart.

This night was doomed to be a long one.

The next morning

Aiden Fordham came downstairs with dark circles under his eyes, radiating a cold, sharp vibe.

Stella Grant and Frances Fordham were having breakfast, chattering away between bites.

"Aiden!" Frances called out, turning to him.

As soon as Stella saw that icy face, she immediately shut up, a lingering awkwardness from yesterday hanging in the air.

She ducked her head, sipping her porridge, pretending not to see him.

Frances seemed to notice something off, then said to him,

"Aiden, today’s the weekend, and it’s the estate’s harvest day. Why don’t you take me and Stella horseback riding?"

She suggested brightly.

Stella shook her head so fast it looked like a rattle drum, "I can’t ride. I’m not going."

Frances took her hand, "Come on, Stella."

"Don’t touch her left hand." Aiden shot her a warning look, his voice stern.

Frances’s face paled, "Sorry Stella, I forgot. From now on, I’ll sit on your right."

Stella hurried to comfort her, "It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt!"

"Then come with me horseback riding! The estate’s harvest day only happens once a year. All the fruit in the orchard is ripe."

Stella thought it sounded nice, but then remembered how banged up she was.

"We’re going." Aiden interrupted. Since she didn’t want to go, he insisted she had to.

After breakfast, Frances helped her outside. Three servants were already waiting by the door with three magnificent horses.

Two black, one white.

Stella’s eyes were glued to the tall, pure white horse—it looked absolutely majestic.

Her excitement was written all over her face.

So beautiful!

The glossy coat, the smooth lines, all strength and power.

"You like this one, Stella? Then I’ll pick a black one!" Frances said, and leapt onto her horse with an easy, practiced motion.

"I really can’t ride. You two go ahead! My foot is injured—it’s not convenient," Stella shook her head again, turning away as she spoke.

She was a little disappointed inside, though!

Aiden saw right through her.

Without a word, he carefully lifted her up, settling her securely on the wide horse’s back.

"Ah!" She gasped—though the saddle was soft and comfortable, sitting up there felt a bit wobbly.

Aiden took the reins, moving with practiced ease.

"Hang on." His voice was low, but had power that allowed no argument. "Don’t use your left hand, and don’t kick with your injured foot."

He instructed her thoroughly, thinking through every detail for her.

Stella gripped the handle at the front of the saddle nervously, still tense.

"But I really don’t know how to ride!"

"Don’t be nervous, Stella. Just hold the reins, I’ll walk alongside you. It’s just like sitting in a car—really slow, you’ll be safe!" Frances reassured her.

At last, Stella nodded and even managed a faint breezy smile.

Aiden, leading the horse, paused for a beat. How long had it been since he’d seen her smile like that?

His gaze softened involuntarily—not even he noticed the gentleness in his eyes.

Suddenly, his phone started ringing. He turned to take the call.

Frances began teaching Stella how to hold the reins, and the two horses started walking ahead slowly.

Frances turned back, throwing a glance at Aiden, who was still on the phone.

A slight, hard-to-notice smirk tugged at Frances’s lips.

Suddenly, she raised her riding crop and gave Stella’s horse a hard smack on the rump.

"Crack!"

The horse, startled, neighed shrilly and bolted forward at full speed.

"Ah! Frances! Help! I can’t ride!"

Stella’s scream cut through the air, thick with terror.