CHAPTER 174: CHAPTER 174: BOYFRIEND

Vera lay on the bed, her chest heaving violently.

Suddenly, a thought struck her, and she abruptly sat up: "Noah—"

He didn’t know the code on her door.

A heavy sound of the door closing had already resonated from the foyer.

He had gone out.

Vera looked at the hazy halo on the ceiling, feeling a little exasperated yet amused.

Imagining his frustrated look when he returns unsatisfied... he might just have murder on his mind.

Or, catching her hands, he might exhaust her with endless teasing until her wrists ache...

The more she thought about it, the more flustered she became. She got up to tidy her disheveled clothes, her fingers brushing across her waist, where faint red marks, left from his loss of control, remained on her cold, white skin, glaringly ambiguous.

Vera went into the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water, and tried to calm the heat on her face and the chaos in her heart.

The sound of running water gushed, almost drowning out her racing heartbeat.

Just then...

A crisp electronic beep pierced the apartment’s silence.

Her movements froze instantly, and water dripped from her chin, splattering onto the ceramic sink.

He... was back.

Slow, steady footsteps, one after another, approached, unhurried, but as if treading right on her heart.

With each step, the air grew thicker.

Vera quickly turned off the faucet, grabbed a towel and hastily wiped her face, then turned around—

Noah was already leaning against the door frame.

The man was in nothing but a wrinkled white shirt, with the top three buttons undone, revealing his sharp collarbones and a stretch of solid chest, the outline of taut muscles faintly visible beneath the fabric.

Slim, powerful legs were wrapped in suit pants, his whole being exuding a wild, unrestrained aura.

His gaze seemed to carry hooks, scorching and persistent, locking firmly onto her.

"My door code..." Vera broke the heart-halting stare, her voice somewhat dry.

Noah said nothing.

He merely lifted his hand slowly, nonchalantly tipping a silver-wrapped box between his long fingers.

Vera’s pupils constricted sharply, her gaze thoroughly captured by that box.

"... Where did you get that?"

Noah straightened up.

He walked towards her, step by step... closing in, his tall silhouette completely enveloping her, his scorching masculine aura forcibly taking over all her senses.

Vera was forced against the edge of the sink.

Noah’s voice was low and husky, "Downstairs, the convenience store."

Vera, "..."

She watched as he pinched the small box, leisurely tearing open the outer transparent seal, the plastic making a slight "rip" sound, chillingly clear in the quiet bathroom.

"No phone, no wallet."

His gaze locked onto her like it might pull her soul out, a half-smile playing on his lips.

"I pawned my watch to the cashier."

Vera, "..."

She was enticed beyond imagination by him, picturing how a business tycoon dashed downstairs, trading a million-dollar watch for a box of condoms, making her legs weak, the not fully dissipated waves of emotion surging again.

The next second, Noah grasped her waist, lifted her, placing her on the black marble countertop...

...

In the latter half of the night, Noah leaned against the headboard, lighting a cigarette.

The smell of tobacco gradually dispelled the room’s lingering romantic aura.

Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting mottled shadows on the messy sheets.

Vera, too tired to move even a finger, lay across Noah’s legs, breathing heavily in silence, her heartbeat yet to settle.

A cascade of dark hair spilled over her snow-white back, the tips damp and sticking to her skin...

The contrast of black against white was visually striking, making the man bite his cigarette instinctively, pulling up the thin blanket with effort, gently covering her.

He caressed the back of her head with a loving gaze, "Are you tired?"

Vera’s spirit gradually returned from cloud nine, as she lifted her eyelids, the swirling bluish-white smoke blurring his handsome face, memories of his recent wild and fierce manner flashing in her mind.

As their eyes met, she quickly lowered her gaze.

Noah’s Adam’s apple rolled, lowering his head, he gently brushed aside the hair by her cheek, "Not tired?"

The joy in his voice was a blatant hint.

He wanted more.

Vera pinched his waist in silent protest.

Noah grinned broadly, continuing to entice her, "Ms. Sheridan—we train eight hours a day as basic practice, this is just the beginning..."

Before allowing Vera to glare at him, he extinguished the cigarette, picking her up once more.

...

A warm towel softly wiped away the sticky layer of sweat on her skin, bringing a fresh, comfortable feeling, and Vera occasionally lifted her eyelids, catching the sight of Noah carefully rinsing the towel.

Unbidden, Grandma Grant’s proud voice echoed in her ears: "The men of The Grant Family are all family-oriented, they take care of their wives, no matter how big the world is, the wife is always the biggest!"

Then she fell into a deep sleep.

...

When Vera Sheridan woke up, her throat was dry and scratchy, and her stomach felt empty and burning.

She reached for her phone and checked it, realizing it was already one in the afternoon.

The air still carried a faint, ambiguous scent.

She was wearing a loosely fitting men’s white shirt, obviously put on her by Noah Grant last night.

She got out of bed, intending to go to the living room for a drink of water.

As she passed by the study, the door was slightly ajar, and inside, she could hear Noah Grant’s deep voice engaged in a video conference.

Vera instinctively paused, peering through the crack in the door.

The man sat behind the computer in a suit, his face stern, eyes focused intently on the screen, occasionally tapping a few commands on the keyboard with an air of professionalism.

Speaking fluent German, she only caught a few words, roughly related to mergers and acquisitions and debt restructuring.

Stern and ascetic, meticulous in every way.

The man who had pinned her against the bathroom sink last night, wild and uninhibited, seemed like a completely different person.

Vera went to the bar to pour herself a glass of water.

When Noah Grant came out, he hesitated.

Her back was to him, standing by the bar, her long hair draped over her shoulders, the hem of the white shirt barely reaching her thighs, revealing a pair of toned, well-proportioned long legs, strikingly pale, her bare feet planted on the gray carpet.

The sight of her toes curling into the carpet reminded him involuntarily of the moment last night when they clutched the bedsheet...

Clearing his husky throat, he stepped forward, "Why are you up so early?"

Early?

Vera immediately detected the tease, lifted her foot, and kicked his firm calf.

Noah winced from the pain, furrowed his brow, then caught her, embraced her from behind, "Still got strength left... does that mean I, as your... boyfriend, didn’t try hard enough?"

His tone appeared playful, but was clearly probing.

Vera held her glass, took a sip of water, feigned ignorance, and retorted: "What boyfriend, do you have the credentials?"

As the words fell, her breath caught, her fingers subtly tightened around the glass.

Behind her, Noah’s eyes darkened slightly, a fleeting hint of tenderness passing by, yet he still kept a smile on his lips and gently tapped her forehead.

"Right, I haven’t passed that certification yet."

"I’ll take it slowly," he said earnestly.

Vera turned her head slightly, met his serious, patient look, smiled, and changed the subject, "By the way, how’s the Capital Bay project?"

Noah placed his phone in front of her, displaying today’s finance news on the screen.

"Solstice Group (NS.NY) officially announces that Grestin GIC has acquired shares in the Capital Bay project, sending stock prices soaring by 18% upon opening, marking the largest single-day gain of the year."

Reading this news, the heavy stone pressing on Vera’s heart for days finally disappeared, and she let out a long sigh of relief.

Noah’s lip twitched slightly, "Comrade Julian Grant’s reach may be long, but it can’t stretch to these established overseas capitals, he can’t overpower me."

With that, he opened another trending search.

Vera lowered her head, seeing that the selection competition video from yesterday had gone viral.

"Former ballet goddess Vera Sheridan makes a comeback, outshining the domestic top ballet dancer Vivian Langdon at the Lorraine selection competition!"

Noah sincerely praised her, "Yesterday’s landing was textbook-perfect!"

Vera smiled gently, "I’ll keep working hard, there are many formidable international competitors."

...

Grant Family Estate.

Old Madam Grant wore her reading glasses, the phone speaker turned to maximum, and the intelligent voice reading the comments was full of nuances: "Silent landing! Did Vera Sheridan install a silencer?!" "28 years old and in this condition? Is it scientific?" "Vivian Langdon’s top position is in danger!"

The old lady listened, beaming with delight, "Look, the eyes of the public are bright and discerning!"

Rosalind Morgan was stirring the red tea in her cup with a small spoon, her movements pausing slightly at the words, the spoon lightly clinking, emitting a clear, crisp sound.

Old Madam Grant set down the phone, removed her glasses, and sighed, "Vera, this child, is truly impressive. All the hardships she’s endured, the efforts she’s put in, all reflect in those pointe shoes. Heaven never fails those who work hard."

Julian Grant, who was reading the newspaper nearby, never lifted his eyes from the page, seemingly detached but secretly listening to his mother’s words.

Rosalind placed down the teaspoon, responding warmly, "Mom’s right, Vera’s professional abilities truly leave no room for criticism, and her perseverance is commendable."

"But having said that, Vivian suffered because of her physical condition this time, feeling unwell before going on stage, leading to minor mistakes. Once she adjusts her state for the next round, with her strength and age, she still has the best chance of winning gold at Lorraine."

She smiled, looking at the old lady, "Mom, just imagine, if our Grant family could have a daughter-in-law who wins world championships and brings glory to the country, wouldn’t that be adding splendor to our family name?"

Old Madam Grant raised her teacup, sipping leisurely, her smile remaining kind.

"Rosalind, choosing someone is like drinking tea. You think this green tea is refreshing, invigorating, and suits your palate, and that’s your preference."

"But Noah happens to prefer a sip of white tea — smooth to the mouth, with a lingering sweet aftertaste, possessing its own unique character and charm."

"You see green tea as good, and it truly is. But you can’t force Noah to drink your cup of green tea."

"After all, life is lived by the children themselves, and peace of mind is most important. Don’t you think that’s right?"

Rosalind, "Mom, you’re right, the taste for tea is indeed a personal preference and cannot be forced."

"But choosing a wife and daughter-in-law concerns Noah’s lifelong future, and it also involves the family’s reputation and dignity. We can’t let it be entirely driven by the whims of his taste."

"Mom, I won’t beat around the bush. Vera may have some talent in ballet, that I admit. But her family background... her mother back then, sigh..."

Just then, the television in the living room, which was originally broadcasting finance news, suddenly switched to breaking news.

"Breaking news: Former ballet star Vera Sheridan’s comeback sparks controversy, with her family background revealed: her biological mother was imprisoned for intentional injury and passed away in prison. Additionally, insiders revealed that Vera’s behavior during her divorce from ex-husband Ian Kane was extremely..."