Claim Me Captain! I'm Addicted to You!-Chapter 416: No More Distance (1)

Oliver’s POV

The door swung open before I could ask Vicky what she meant, and she instantly turned her back on me, shoulders stiff, breathing uneven. Seconds later, she slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly, as if afraid her emotions might spill into the room.

Ria, Heidi, and several of my men rushed inside.

"Boss! You’re awake!" Rob—Ria’s boyfriend and my head of security, exclaimed with a relieved grin.

I forced a smirk, trying to redirect the attention away from the bathroom door. "Miss me already?"

"Damn right we did," Rob said, clapping the side of my bed railing. "Next time, maybe leave the fighting to us? You’ve already done your lifetime quota of near-death experiences. You hired us for this, and yet you dove in first."

I chuckled, though the movement made my shoulder throb. Still, hearing them laugh eased something inside my chest. They started recounting everything, each giving their own exaggerated version of the shoot-out. I let myself sink into their voices for a moment. Their relief. Their loyalty. I was grateful none of them were seriously hurt.

But then a thought slammed into me.

I straightened slightly. "What happened to Irene? And Dante?"

Ria’s expression darkened, eyes flicking to me. "That devil won’t be hurting anyone ever again," she said firmly. "And Irene... she’s stable. We came from the ICU before coming here. They’ll transfer her back to her room once she passes the twenty-four-hour mark."

Thank God.

Relief washed over me so hard I nearly sagged into the pillows.

As the others continued chatting, movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Vicky stepped out of the bathroom. Her face was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm someone puts on like armor. She walked straight to the kitchenette, tying her hair back as if nothing had happened just minutes earlier.

Then she turned around with a tray in her hands, her expression transforming into pure command.

"Alright, everybody out!" she announced, marching toward us like a tiny drill sergeant. "Your boss hasn’t eaten yet, and he needs food in his stomach before taking any medicine. So—out! Move. Move. Move."

The room went silent.

My men... froze.

Literally froze.

I’d never seen them stunned into stillness like that. It took Ria and Heidi herding them out, like two shepherds chasing a flock of confused, oversized sheep, to get them moving.

Rob looked back at me once, eyes wide like he was silently asking, Is she always this scary?

I shrugged and nodded toward the door.

He bolted.

Within seconds, the room emptied, the door shut, and the sudden quiet settled over us.

Just the two of us again.

Just me... and Vicky.

She placed the tray gently on the table beside me, her expression finally softening, but the weight of the moment earlier still hung in the air, unspoken, unfinished, unbearably loud.

I wasn’t sure I wanted her to run away from that conversation again.

Vicky pushed the overbed table closer, her movements gentle, so different from the fierce commander she had been moments before. She lifted the lid of the porridge, and the rich aroma filled the room again. Chicken. Beef. Ginger. Something warm and comforting I hadn’t realized I’d been craving.

"Alright," she said quietly, sitting beside me. "Let’s get you fed."

I blinked.

Fed?

"Hold on," I said, frowning as she scooped a spoonful of porridge. "You’re... you’re not actually planning to feed me, right?"

She raised one brow. "Do you see anyone else here? Yes, Oliver. I’m feeding you."

"I’m a grown man," I argued, indignation instantly flooding my chest. "I can eat by my—"

I reached for the spoon.

My shoulder burned like fire ripping through muscle.

"F—!" I hissed through clenched teeth, instinctively clutching my right side.

Vicky clicked her tongue, her expression snapping into annoyance so fast it was almost comedic. "Look at you. Acting all macho when you literally can’t even lift your arm without making that dying-cow noise." 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"It was not a dying cow noise," I muttered, still wincing.

"It was," she corrected sharply. "Now stop being stubborn."

Before I could protest again, she lifted the spoon to my lips.

I glared at it.

I glared at her.

She glared back twice as hard.

"Oliver," she said with the authority of someone who had commanded my entire security team three minutes ago, "open your mouth."

"No."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oliver Morris, if you don’t stop this nonsense right now, I swear I will use this spoon to—"

"Alright! Fine!" I opened my mouth, defeated. "Just don’t finish that sentence."

She huffed triumphantly and fed me the first spoonful.

Warm. Savory. Comforting.

God, it tasted good.

Maybe it was the porridge. Maybe it was her.

Maybe it was the fact that she was here, after everything, taking care of me when she absolutely didn’t have to.

I swallowed, slower this time, not because the food was hot, but because there was a sudden tightness in my throat.

Vicky’s face softened instantly when she saw me finally obeying. The tension faded from her shoulders, her features melting from irritation into something almost... tender.

"There," she whispered, scooping another spoonful. "See? That wasn’t so hard."

Her voice was gentle.

It did something to my ribcage, something painful and warm at the same time.

She fed me again. And again.

And with each bite, her expression softened more, her eyes tracing my face as if she needed the reassurance that I was real, alive, breathing in front of her.

"I was so scared," she murmured without looking directly at me, her fingers brushing my cheek by accident before she pulled them back quickly. "When Nora saw on on TV and said you were shot... I thought..." Her voice cracked, but she forced herself to swallow it down. "Just eat, okay?"

My chest tightened.

My heart clenched.

I wanted to take her hand. I wanted to pull her close, even if it made my stitches scream. I wanted to tell her to stop pretending she didn’t care as deeply as I saw in her eyes.

But instead... I opened my mouth for the next spoonful.

No more arguing.

No more pride.

No more distance.

Just her... taking care of me.

And me—letting her.