The Sweetest Temptation -
Chapter 231: Struggle
Chapter 231: Struggle
Where the fuck is Diego?! His restless thoughts echoed through his mind as he rose from the bed and made his way towards the room balcony. Determined to regain composure and find a solution, he took a deep breath, hoping to calm the storm raging within him and focus on saving her.
He walked back to her side and leaned over her, hovering over her nostrils in search of signs of breath. Though there was a semblance of respiration, it was painfully clear that she was suffering greatly.
Her breaths came in short, wheezing gasps, like those of a chronic smoker meeting his nemesis. The wound inflicted on her had started to encroach her vital organs.
He stood up straight, scanning her entire being as he desperately thought of a way to alleviate her pain. His hands hovered uncertainly, momentarily paralyzed by the weight of his indecision.
His struggle intensified as his body, against his volition, reacted to the sight of her bosom straining against the delicate material of her dress, begging for release.
He shook his head sideways, willing his mind out of his lascivious thoughts, and firmly grasped the edges of the edges where her buttons held her dress intact. He yanked the buttons apart, sending them cascading to the floor, unveiling a captivating sight of sky blue lace-clad breasts that spilled forth in their entire glorious splendor.
"Master Quinn," Diego called out, offering a lifeline to preserve her dignity. The medical team rushed in. Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly snatched a quilt tucked within the bedframe and flung it over her exposed bosom, an attempt to shield her from the eyes of them. A futile gesture, as he knew they would still take it off.
In spite his unwillingness to comply, he stepped aside, making way for them to tend to her. His impatience gnawed at his insides, but he understood the importance of their expertise.
He walked towards the doors leading to the balcony, casting one last glance over his shoulder to observe their effort as they worked to address her wound.
Amidst the ripping and tearing, there was a distinct absence of the familiar texture of leather. He resisted the urge to confirm, unsure if he could bear to witness another person’s touch on her.
What is this?! Get yourself together, fool! He chastised himself.
Lost in his internal struggle, a hand descended upon his shoulder. The unexpected touch jolted him from the depths of his spiraling contemplations.
This is it!
His heart froze as he contemplated what it would be like to lose her. There’s no way she’d go that easily. With a jerking motion, he turned to look at his companion.
Diego stared at him with a solemn gaze, his eyes baring mysteries that could only have been gotten from experience.
And from the way that he scrutinized Matteo’s reaction so far, it was clear that he was about to assert some kind of theory, one that Matteo was not sure he was ready to accept – that he cared for her greatly. So much that he was willing to do anything to make sure she was alright.
"They’re done." He whispered in a voice hoarse with age. Matteo inhaled sharply, suddenly aware that he had been holding his breath the entire time. He nodded and turned to face the bed that was now empty, save the slender form of Stella wrapped in the covers.
He walked up to her and studied her once again. She looked so peaceful; it only worsened the anxiousness he felt when the thought of her sudden death crossed his mind.
Her hair was sprawled like autumn meadow bushes on the white pillows where her head rested. It gave her an angelic appeal that caused his heartstrings to pull at intervals.
He tore his gaze from her and studied the room, there was no one left. Diego took the initiative to leave them alone, allowing him ample time to be with her for as long as he needed.
He settled into the bed beside her and cupped the right side of her face with utmost care.
"I’m sorry, Stella," He whispered, his voice heavy with guilt. He couldn’t help the nagging feeling of anger that he felt toward himself for allowing her get in harm’s way. He had thought twice about giving her a gun or assigning someone to guard her personally, but he had averted his thought, with his reason being her claim of owning a gun during the office incident.
How naïve was he to think that she’d ever handled a gun, of course that was only a claim to scare the intruder.
It’s not like she’s hoarded stashes of cash somewhere for people and gone on other crazy underground missions. If she’d done any of those things, then she wouldn’t be here, trying to make an honest living – whilst bringing out the deepest part of him he’d kept hidden.
And now, she’d gone to do the ultimate – take a bullet for him.
In the world that he had already grown used to, if a man were to make such an honorable move, he’d instantly be promoted to a right hand man, because it’s assumed that he’s a most trusted ally. But what happens in the case of a woman?
The rate of his heart picked up tempo as he began to imagine a number of moments that he’d wished to have with her.
From the moment that she stepped into his office, fantasies and wild imaginations had been the bane of his existence in her presence. All he’d done is imagine what life would be like if she submitted to him.
But his fear was of her leaving like the last. And like a coward, he’d let the chance slip, causing her to make the first move of how much she cared for him.
A sharp throb in his forehead caused his features to contort in pain. He’d been so agitated and stressed that he didn’t even consider his well-being. He wanted nothing than to sit beside her all day, but there were other things he also had to see to.
He had to call the client.
"I’ll be back," He whispered and then he paused for a while, seemingly staring into space. After what seemed like eternity, he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips. He smoothed her hair, and made his way out of the room.
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