I Faked My Death—Now I Have to Tame the Crazy Men I Left Behind

Chapter 120 - 118: Always Dripping

In the room, the central air was still pumping out warm air.

A faint blush colored Mia Grant’s cheeks all the way down to her collarbones, and a thin layer of sweat beaded on her palms.

The source of heat behind her pressed tightly against her back, an airtight weight descending upon her, enveloping her until the very oxygen seemed to thin.

With every breath, a wave of heat rolled over her.

She heard Silas Grant’s voice and realized what he was saying. Her already burning ears turned so red it looked as if they might start bleeding.

She turned her head, trying to pull away, but his fingertips caught her chin. It wasn’t just her chin; her entire body was immobilized.

He held her from behind just like that, his large frame a shackle caging a small, fragile fledgling.

Mia Grant’s eyes darted around nervously.

But his words tempted her, and she subconsciously snuck a peek at the photos on the wall out of the corner of her eye.

There were shots of her staring out the window, lost in thought during class; of her playing the violin in music class; and a candid photo of her napping at her desk.

And that wasn’t all.

There were photos of her eating, walking, shopping—everything.

She had no idea where they could have been taken.

All the photos were plastered densely across the wall. In the center was an enlarged print of her smiling at the camera, a bashful look on her face, her eyes glistening and her cheeks pink...

She had no memory of it herself...

From the looks of it, it seemed to have been taken while she was drunk.

Of course, the photos alone weren’t enough to shock her.

After all, from reading the original book, she knew perfectly well that Silas Grant was not a normal person.

’No, none of these male leads are normal!’

But—

Her gaze swept to one side. Mia Grant swallowed nervously. GULP. Her heart plummeted along with it.

’Why were those palm-sized scraps of fabric and other strange, indescribable things here?!’

After a single glance, Mia Grant hastily averted her eyes.

Only four words remained in her mind: Do not look at this.

A low, sexy chuckle escaped his throat, his breath ghosting over her ear. Mia Grant’s eyelashes trembled violently, and her whole body began to shake like a leaf.

She tried to appeal to his reason.

"Silas, I’m really worried about you... I came this time not just to make sure you were safe, but also because I have something important to talk to you about."

"Mm, my sweetheart is so thoughtful." He kissed the top of her head, his hands not idle. The one wrapped in gauze kneaded her slender waist, trying to get her tense body to relax so she could rest securely in his arms.

"What do you want to talk about?"

He asked with his words, but his attention clearly wasn’t on the conversation.

It was more like he was placating a disobedient child.

"..." Mia Grant’s body quivered. She pleaded, "Can we talk somewhere else?"

’She was afraid that if they talked here, the conversation would... take a wrong turn.’

"Is this place not good enough?"

Silas Grant asked her, "Don’t you like it here?"

Mia Grant shook her head instinctively, then stopped as a thought occurred to her. "I just think the atmosphere in here is a little strange."

"Is it the atmosphere that’s strange, or do you think I’m strange?"

he asked with a smile.

Mia Grant grew tense. She couldn’t turn around to see his expression, so she had no idea what mood he was in when he asked that question.

"I... I..."

The rough gauze scraped against her skin, lingering for several moments before the pressure on her waist suddenly loosened.

Mia Grant’s body shuddered. A scream that had started to escape her lips was cut short, swallowed whole by a kiss that was anything but gentle.

Her pupils dilated, her breath caught, and she stared blankly at the photo of herself on the opposite wall as if her soul had been torn from her body.

Silas Grant let out a sigh, his voice seeming to drift from a great distance. It was just like the mournful cry of the lion from her dreams as it looked back at her, reluctant to leave.

"A long time ago, you said you’d come to Portia to be with me."

"From that moment on, I started waiting for you."

"I chose a suitable school for you, planned your route, and prepared a room you would like—one where you can see the night view of Vexia just by opening the window."

"Every night, you would lie obediently in my arms. The moment you opened your eyes in the morning, I would give you a good morning kiss, help you get ready, carry you downstairs, and take you to school. When you came back, you’d tell me all about your day. During the holidays, I would take you abroad, or you could keep me company at the office while I worked overtime."

"All the time I was waiting for you, I was filled with anticipation every single day."

"At one point, I even desperately wanted to bring you to my side early. But I knew I could never win an argument with you, so I decided to grant you one last bit of freedom."

"But I spend most of my time in Portia. When I missed you, many of my messages and calls went unanswered. You were busy with your studies—so busy that I would stop meetings just to check for your reply the second it came in."

"In a typical day, besides social engagements and business trips, I’m mostly at the company. And during my breaks, I was always in this room."

"For a very long time, I would just sit here on the edge of the bed, looking at your pictures."

"I also wondered if I would ever bring you here one day to show you all of this."

"What would your expression be? How would you react?"

"I know you might find this very strange. That’s okay."

"My sweetheart, once you’ve seen this, there’s no chance of escape."

"I know there are many people in this world who love you. They love your soul, they love your body... It doesn’t matter.

You’re just young, so you need to learn to distinguish what true love is. Just like you need to know that no matter what, I will always be the first person to love you without reservation."

"And that also means, no matter what, I have to be the first."

"..."

—

Mia Grant was drenched in sweat, her undergarments soaked through. She was forced to take a shower in the lounge’s bathroom to wash away the sticky discomfort.

A long while later, she pushed the door open, dressed in the change of clothes Silas Grant had given her.

Inside the room, the strong scent of incense had been dispelled, replaced by the fresh fragrance of pomelo.

It drifted into her nose, refreshing and invigorating.

But sniffing more closely, she could also detect the faint, subtle scent of tobacco.

It wasn’t strong.

Glancing around, she realized Silas Grant had moved and was now sitting on the sofa, smoking.

Seeing her come out, he stubbed out the cigarette in his hand and stood up.

She took a cramped step back. He smiled. "Didn’t you want to talk? Let’s go to the office."

"Huh?" She hadn’t processed his words before he opened the door leading out of the lounge.

He pocketed the key, a look of satiated satisfaction in his eyes. He now seemed remarkably understanding.

"This place really isn’t suitable for talking," he said.

He took her hand and, leaning down, whispered in her ear, "It’s only suitable for doing the most intimate things."

!

Mia Grant’s eyelid twitched violently. The images that the cold water had just washed away instantly flooded back into her mind, playing in reverse.

The faint love bites hadn’t faded yet.

Deep in her memory, his fingertips were the ones causing chaos.

In the haze of her consciousness, he was holding her limp body, laughing indistinctly in her ear as he murmured:

"My sweetheart is covered in so much sweat. You’re just dripping wet."