Chapter 379

Late that night, the suite door creaked open once more.Vincent stepped inside.

On the bed, Hannah lay curled on her side, the thin blanket pulled only to her waist. She didn't stir, her breathing steady,appearing to be fast asleep.

Vincent crossed the room to the bed, lifted the covers, and slipped in beside her.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight. For once, he didn't reach for her-he only lay there, staring at the ceiling.

The silence pressed in, broken only by the rhythm of their breathing.

Of course, Hannah was wide awake. Her thoughts churned. Her earlier charade in the dining room wasn't finished yet. If she wanted his trust, she had to sell this.

With a sudden roll, she turned toward him, irritation flashing across her face. She angrily asked,"What are you doing here?""I'm still mad at you."

"To sleep," he muttered, his voice low and heavy with exhaustion.

"To sleep?" Her tone cracked, sharp with hurt. "That's it? After everything I told you at dinner-you're just going to brush it off like nothing?"

Vincent said nothing. His gaze held hers, even in the dark-sharp, unyielding, as though he were trying to unearth her most hidden thoughts. A long moment passed.

Then, finally, he exhaled. "From now on," he said slowly, "you can move around this place as you please. As long as you don't try to escape."

That was his bottom line.

Hannah's chest tightened. Her plan worked. Relief surged,though she forced her expression to stay tense, brimming with wounded indignation. "If I really wanted to run away," she shot back, her voice trembling with emotion, "I could've done it at the supermarket. It was chaos. People everywhere. I had the perfect chance." Her words cracked, teetering on the edge of a sob.

She leaned closer, her breath brushing the side of his neck."But I didn't. In all that, didn't you notice anything?"

Vincent went rigid. His breath hitched. "Notice what?" His voice was taut,guarded.

Hannah's pulse raced. This was it-the moment to disarm him completely.

She lowered her gaze, lashes fluttering as though weighed down with hesitation and embarrassment. Her fingers curled around the corner of his pajama shirt. "I didn't run... because l couldn't bear to leave you," she whispered. "And also..."

She lifted her gaze, locking onto his eyes. "I still like you."

Was she really confessing her feelings to him? This hit Vincent like a blow. She said she couldn't bear to leave him. She said she still liked him.

Without thinking, he leaned in, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. Their breaths collided-ragged, uneven."Do you mean your words?" he asked, his voice low, almost desperate.Hannah knew she couldn't show a hint of hesitation. She had to perform this act to perfection. Without a word, she swung one leg over and straddled him in a single, fluid motion.

Then, she leaned down and kissed him. It was soft,fleeting-just the brush of lips.

She drew back a little, though her body stayed pressed against his. Her breathing turned uneven, and her eyes glimmered with playful reproach."What do you think? After everything we've been through, how could I possibly feel nothing for you? Do you really believe I'm made of stone? Plus, you were my first love. Even the coldest heart would have warmed by now."

Her tone carried convincing tenderness and sincerity, but it was all a performance. Every word she spoke was carefully chosen for effect.

But Vincent believed her. Entirely. He tumbled headlong into the illusion of her supposed love, unwilling-and unable-to resist its pull.

In a sudden rush, his hand clamped firmly around the back of her neck, while his other arm cinched tight around her slender waist. He was no longer simply receiving her kiss; he was consuming it.

Mouths collided. Breaths tangled. What followed was inevitable -like a wildfire that had only needed a spark.

Vincent surrendered to his desire, unleashing days of restraint,suspicion, and the tidal surge of affection that had been building inside him. He was relentless-at times tender,at others fierce and consuming-as though he wanted to fuse her into his very bones.

Hannah endured it all, letting him take her. She moaned softly in response, her eyes dazed, as if lost in the moment. Yet beneath the facade, she remained detached and calculating. Time slipped away in a blur.

At last, he stopped.

Hannah lay drained, unable to lift even a finger. Every muscle ached.She stayed still with her eyes closed, looking for all the world as if she had already drifted into sleep.

Vincent rose, moving with care so as not to disturb her.He gently scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. With quiet, deliberate tenderness, he wiped her down, every gesture unhurried and precise. When he was done,he brought her back to bed, laying her gently against the pillows before pulling the covers snug around her shoulders.

He stretched out beside her, watching in silence as she lay there, eyes closed, breathing softly. This-this was the moment he had longed for. The moment she finally lowered her guard and stopped resisting or pushing him away.He had waited fa too long for this.

Reaching into the drawer of the nightstand, his fingers found a small velvet box. Inside rested a ring. He opened it slowly,reverently, and slid it onto her finger with steady hands. They would get married again soon. Everything would fall back into place,just as it was meant to be. She would be his wife-and his alone.