“She loves someone. But the man she loves, she can’t reach him. Can we help her find that man?”
“No, Dove,” I say. “I’ll kill that man the second I find him. Tell Wen to move on from this love.”
Her mouth drops open. “You listened to our conversation?”
“I knew the moment she lied to cover for that man that she’d given him unnecessary feelings.”
Her eyes widen. “You knew that was a lie?”
“Everyone knows. It was a very plain lie.”
“Then why does no one ask her further?” she asks, looking uncomfortable.
“Everyone knows she’s fallen for that man. We can’t force Wen to tell us the real reason behind the kidnapping, and no one cares if that man doesn’t come back. But if he does come back, he’ll be dead.”
She shakes her head, pursing her lips. “You can’t kill him. Wen loves him.”
“He planned to kidnap you, Dove, and that’s unacceptable.”
She makes a sullen face at my hard tone and continues eating. The thought of what he would’ve done to her if he’d kidnapped her instead of Wen is the reason I’ve never been able to stop searching for him.
I’ve heard bits of their conversations to get to the real reason behind the kidnapping, and my guess was right. He planned to torture her to death, but his plan failed because it was Wen instead of her. I can never let the man live who planned to kill my Avira.
I’ve been searching for him using the details Wen shared, but I haven’t found any solid leads. Still, I have a feeling I don’t need to chase him, he will come here on his own.
Wen thinks he has no feelings for her, but that’s not true. If he had had nothing for Wen, he wouldn’t have lether go the way he did. He had her, and he could have used her to take his revenge in many ways.
I wipe my mouth and lean back in my chair. She keeps giving me unhappy glances now and then, chewing very slowly.
“Are you planning to eat till morning?” I ask.
“What’s the rush?” she turns her face away from me.
“I’ve been sitting with a hard dick for the past twenty-five minutes, Dove. I need to fuck you in this dress and then without this dress, so finish quickly.”
Red floods her exposed chest, climbing to her collarbones and then to her face, tinting her puffed cheeks beautifully.
She swallows two gulps of water and stands. “We’re watching a movie now.”
She leaves the dining room and I follow her to the sitting room beside the living room, the heating is off and the windows are open. Golden light from the garden—also decorated for Christmas—pours in through the glass doors.
A Christmas tree stands in the corner, and a mattress with cushions and a quilt is arranged against the wall between the tree and the glass. I sit beside her on the mattress. She has turned on the TV.
“Which movie do you want to watch?” she mumbles.
“Anything’s fine.” I’m not going to watch anyway, and neither is she.
She gives me a sidelong look, then picks a Christmas-themed romance.
The movie opens on a couple sitting on a bench. I edge closer to her and move under the quilt she’s wrapped herself in. I lock my arm around her waist and pull her against me.
“I’m mad at you,” she pouts, pressing herself into my side, one of her legs lies across mine.
I pull her up so her face is closer to mine. “Why?”
The quilt slides down, exposing her bare shoulders and cleavage.
“You can’t plan to kill the man Wen loves,” she says, voice soft but firm.
