Chapter 21 Suspicion and Static
<b>88 </b>
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Anneliese nced at the hand Jonathan extended toward her. His fingers were long and clean, the lines on his palm sharp and well–defined.
There were faint calluses along the center of his palm and on the pads of his fingers, but they didn’t take away from their elegance—any hand fetishist would be hard–pressed to find a single w.
Caught a little off guard, she gingerly ced her phone in his palm, and before letting go, she even rubbed it on her shirt as if worried there might be something dirty on it that would defile his regal hands.
Jonathan gave her a nce, then bent down to help her connect it to a charger.
Anneliese immediately snipped open the tear in her pants with medical scissors. She cleaned and disinfected the wound, applied ointment, and wrapped it with gauze–all in one swift, practiced motion.
When she finally looked up, she realized Jonathan’s gaze had settled on her at some point.
“Do you get hurt a lot?” he asked casually, noticing her confusion.
“Huh? Oh—no, not really.”
But growing up without parents meant there were always scrapes and bruises along the way. It wasn’t like she ever had the luxury of making a fuss when she got hurt. She just learned to grit her teeth and move on.
Jonathan didn’t press further. “Give me a cotton swab. I’ll take care of the cut on your head,
too.”
The wound on her forehead hade from banging into a cab–it was just a minor scrape that had already started to scab over.
He wants to help me <i>with </i>that, too<i>? </i><i>Seriously</i>? <i>He </i><i>has </i>a daughter already, isn’t this… a little much? We’re not even that close. <i>Technically</i><i>, </i><i>we </i>barely <i>know </i>each <i>other</i>. Letting <i>him </i>help with something like that–<i>it </i>just feels way too <i>personal</i>.
Without thinking, Anneliese waved him off. “No, no need. I can do it myself.”
To prove it, she grabbed a cotton swab, dipped it in iodine, then turned to the car window and quickly disinfected the wound on her forehead.
11:33 Fri<b>, </b>Sep <b>5 </b>
Chapter 21 Suspicion and Static
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88
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Her movements were efficient and clean. She tilted her head to check the angle–looked <i>good</i>. She was just about to turn back to Jonathan when her eyes met his in the ss.
He was watching her. Through the dark–tinted window, his gaze seemed even deeper, intense in a way that made it hard to breathe, like he could look right through a person’s soul.
And here she was, head tilted back, nostrils slightly red. Not exactly her most ttering look.
Their reflections ovepped in the ss. Anneliese’s heart gave a sudden jolt.
Okay, <i>is </i>he secretly <i>a </i>wolf <i>in </i><i>sheep’s </i><i>clothing</i>? <i>Does </i><i>he </i><i>have </i><i>some </i><i>kind </i><i>of </i><i>agenda </i><i>here</i>? <i>With </i><i>his </i>status, every second <i>probably </i><i>costs </i><i>a </i><i>fortune</i><i>. </i><i>Why </i><i>take </i><i>the </i><i>time </i><i>to </i><i>personally </i><i>drive </i><i>me </i><i>home</i><i>? </i><i>It’s</i><i>… </i>weird<i>. </i>I’ve <i>heard </i>stories<i>—</i><i>some </i><i>rich </i><i>men </i><i>get </i><i>a </i><i>thrill </i><i>out </i><i>of </i><i>having </i><i>affairs </i><i>with </i><i>married </i><i>women</i><i>. </i>Maybe that’s the real <i>excitement </i><i>for </i><i>them</i>.
The moment she had that thought, she felt like her seat was covered in needles.
No way<i>. </i>That <i>can’t </i><i>be </i>it<i>. </i><i>Right</i><i>? </i>
She blinked and looked again–sure enough, Jonathan had already looked away. That earlier moment must’ve just been a coincidence.
Just as she let out a breath of relief, Jonathan turned to look at her again. Her lungs forgot how to function.
“You still haven’t told me where you’re going.”
Mortified, Anneliese scrambled to respond. “Oh–right, Riverview Court, please. Thank you.”
Riverview Court was the residentialplex Jessica was currently renting.
Jonathan gave a small nod. “Riverview Court.”
Zion immediately punched it into the GPS, and the car went quiet after that.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Anneliese looked over again. “Right–your hand. I didn’t break the skin, did I?”
She hadn’t forgotten that Jonathan was also a pilot. Any kind of injury could be a hassle. She’d been too panicked earlier to notice how hard she’d bitten him.
Jonathan extended the hand she’d bitten. Anneliese leaned in to check and spotted the mark right near the base of his thumb. It was deep and vivid, the teeth marks dark against his fair skin–but thankfully, the skin hadn’t broken.
11:33 Fri, <b>Sep </b><b>5 </b>
Chapter 21 Suspicion and Static
<b>88 </b>
+10 Free Coins
Embarrassed, she rubbed her nose awkwardly. The soft gleam of his mechanical wristwatch caught the light and shimmered faintly, casting tiny specks of reflection into her eyes.
In the dim interior of the car, her eyes seemed to glisten, as if holding back tears. Jonathan’s gaze darkened slightly. He flipped his wrist and pulled his hand back, lips parting lightly.
“Strong bite. Not calcium deficient.”
Anneliese blinked. She had been about to apologize, but he’dpletely derailed the mood.
From the driver’s seat, Zion stayed quiet. <i>Is </i>Boss… <i>throwing </i><i>shade </i><i>now</i>? <i>Seriously</i><i>? </i>
At that moment, Anneliese’s phone vibrated to life with a low, persistent hum as it powered on. Jonathan lowered his eyes and caught a glimpse of the screen. Another call from Trash No. 1.
Anneliese leaned forward quickly and hung up with a frown. But the moment she put the phone down, it rang again. And again. By the third time, Jonathan’s brow twitched.
“What are you, haunted or something?”