Chapter 128
Chapter 128:
Gaston released her chin slowly, as though afraid of the pressure his own hands were capable of. He stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the city with the rigid posture of a man who wanted to put his fist through the reinforced glass.
“Sit up,” he said.
He went to the kitchen. Jocelyn heard the freezer open and close. He returned with the first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas.
He knelt in front of her, his expensive suit trousers pressing into the rug without a moment’s consideration. He opened the kit, uncapped a tube of arnica gel, and began to apply it. His touch was feather-light — a stark, deliberate contrast to the violence radiating from every line of his body.
Jocelyn flinched when his finger grazed the sorest point.
He stopped immediately. “I won’t hurt you,” he said. “Never.” The intensity in his voice made her heart stutter.
He pressed the bag of frozen peas gently against her cheek.
“Why do you care?” she whispered, a tear escaping and tracking slowly through the gel. “It’s not in the contract p>
Gaston looked at her lips, then at her eyes.
“You are my wife,” he said. “Your face is my face. An attack on you is an attack on me p>
It was a possessive logic. It wasn’t I love you. It was You are mine. And right now, that felt safer than love. It felt like a fortress with the gates locked.
𝗬o𝗎𝗋 𝗱𝖺il𝘆 𝖽оsе of ո𝗼𝘷𝖾𝗅s oո ѕ.c𝗼𝗺
“She is banned from the hotel,” Jocelyn offered quietly.
“That is not enough,” Gaston said.
He finished tending to her and stood, brushing off his knees. “Go to bed. I have work to do p>
Jocelyn rose from the sofa, clutching the bag of peas to her cheek. She walked to her room, paused in the doorway, and looked back. Gaston was already on his phone, his back to her, his shoulders set with purpose.
She felt, strangely, completely safe.
Gaston waited until her door clicked shut. Then he dialed Vance.
“The Schneider land deal. Close it. Now p>
Vance answered on the first ring. “Done p>
“And find out everything about Robert Schneider’s loans. I want to call them in,” Gaston said. “Burn it down, Vance. I want them to wake up in ashes p>
Monday morning. Robert Schneider was whistling as he walked into his office. He felt good. The Hudson Yards deal was going to save his quarter.
He settled into his chair and called his broker. “Is the deal ready to sign p>
Silence on the other end. Heavy, loaded silence.
“Mr. Schneider… the land was sold p>
Robert dropped his pen. Ink splattered across his cuff. “What? We had a verbal agreement p>
“A cash offer came in last night. Twenty percent over asking. The deeds are already transferred,” the broker said, his voice tight.
“Who?” Robert demanded, rising from his chair.
“A shell company. But the wire transfer originated from a Collins subsidiary,” the broker said, dropping his voice to almost a whisper.
Robert sank back down. Collins? Why?
He hung up and dialed Elouise. “Did you offend the Collins family? Did you say something to Gaston p>