The Heiress' Revenge-Chapter 131 I Never Want To See You With Any Guy

Chapter 131: Chapter 131 I Never Want To See You With Any Guy

Sarah’s POV

I sat on the floor with my back against the door, my bleeding finger forgotten as I stared at the ceiling, trying not to cry.

The blood was dripping onto my jeans. Now, I should clean it up. I should get a bandage so as not to get infected.

Instead, I just sat there.

After a moment of silence, I got up, and just in time, the door slipped open, and Marcus walked in.

The door pushed open against my back, and I scrambled to my feet, stumbling backward into my room as he stepped inside.

He was still in his robe with his hair slightly disheveled, and I hated that I noticed.

He closed the door behind him.

My room suddenly felt very small.

"What do you want?" I asked my voice to come out steadier than I felt.

He didn’t answer. His eyes dropped to my hand, to the blood still dripping slowly onto the floor.

"Come here."

"No."

His eyes snapped up to mine. Something flickered there, surprise maybe or amusement, I couldn’t tell.

"I said, ’ Come here."

"And I said no." I crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the sting in my finger. "I don’t need anything from you. Go back to your guest, I’m sure she’s wondering where you are."

He took a step closer and then another.

I backed up instinctively until my legs hit the edge of my bed.

He kept coming.

"What are you doing?" My voice cracked slightly. "Stop.... I said I don’t need your help."

He didn’t stop but kept walking until he was right in front of me, so close I could smell him, something clean and masculine.... Soap and something else that was just him.

"Sit down."

"No."

He grabbed my arm, not hard or rough but firm. His hand wrapped around my bicep, and he guided me backward until my knees buckled and I was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"There." He let go. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

I glared up at him. "What do you want?"

He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a small first aid kit, setting it on the bed beside me.

"My hand is fine."

"It’s bleeding."

"I’ll take care of it."

"When?"

His jaw tightened just slightly. The only indication that I was getting under his skin.

"Give me your hand."

"No."

"Sarah." He said my name like a warning

"What? Are you going to fire me? Go ahead, I’ve been fired before. It’s not that scary."

He stared at me for a long moment.

Those dark eyes are unreadable.

Then he crouched down in front of me so we were at eye level.

"Give me your hand."

"Why do you care?"

"I don’t."

"Then leave."

"I’m not leaving until I fix what happened on my watch."

I laughed. A bitter, broken sound. "On your watch? I cut myself on a plate. It’s not your responsibility."

"You cut yourself because my guest was a bitch."

I blinked. The word sounded wrong coming from him.

Too crude.

"Your words," I said quietly. "Not mine."

"Give me your hand, Sarah."

I held out my hand.

He took it gently, so gently it made my chest ache. He turned it over, examining the cut with his fingers, warm against my skin.

"It’s not deep," he said quietly.

I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t even not with him kneeling in front of me, holding my hand like it was something precious.

He opened the first aid kit with one hand, not letting go of mine. He pulled out an antiseptic wipe and ripped it open with his teeth.

"This will sting."

"I know."

It did sting. It burned like fire, and I hissed, pulling back instinctively.

He held firm. "Stop moving."

"It hurts."

"I know. Hold still."

I watched his face as he cleaned the cut; his focus was absolute. Like nothing in the world existed except this moment, except my hand in his.

"Why did you come here?" I whispered.

He didn’t look up. "Because you’re bleeding."

"That’s not a reason."

"It’s the only reason I need."

"You have a woman in your room, she’s waiting for you."

He kept cleaning my finger, dabbing away the blood, examining the wound with careful attention.

"She’s gone."

I blinked. "What?"

"I told her to leave."

"When?"

"When I saw what she did."

I stared at him. "You... you believed me?"

He finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and I couldn’t breathe.

"I saw what happened."

"What?"

"I watched from the door."

My throat tightened. "Then why did you ask? Why did you say, ’Is that true?"

"I wanted to see what you would say."

"And what did you learn?"

He held my gaze. "That you’d rather bleed than defend yourself."

I looked away, my hand trembled slightly in his.

"You should be more careful," he said quietly.

"I’ll try."

"Not with the plates." He looked up. "With yourself, you give too much of yourself away. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and you let people walk all over you." 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

I pulled my hand back. "You don’t know me."

"I know enough."

"You know nothing." My voice rose.

He was quiet, just watching me with those unreadable eyes.

"No." I stood up suddenly, backing away from him. "You don’t get to come in here and play hero, you don’t get to patch up my finger and look at me with those eyes and make me feel like maybe you see something different. You made your opinion of me clear from day one."

He stood up slowly, towering over me in my small room.

"And what opinion is that?"

"That I’m a liability, that I’m not to be trusted. That I’m only here because of a contract and the moment I step out of line, you’ll throw me out."

He took a step toward me.

I stepped back.

"You’re not wrong," he said quietly.

I felt the words like a physical blow.

My chest tightened.

My eyes burned.

"Right," I whispered. "Of course. So why are you here? Why fix my finger? Why tell your... your guest to leave? Why any of it?"

"Because despite all of that," he said, taking another step, "we agreed on fidelity when we signed the contract."

I stopped backing up.

"You should go," I said quietly.

"I know."

He didn’t move.

"Marcus."

"Sarah."

"What do you want from me?" I asked if my voice was barely a breath.

"I never want to see you again with any guy."

And with that, he left.