Chapter 48: Feed Me

Gritting her teeth, Annabel supported Rupert with one hand while reaching into his pocket with the other. She rummaged through it until her fingers brushed against something. Rupert stiffened.

"What are you looking for? The key, or something else?" he asked.

"Sorry!" Annabel exclaimed, her face flushing crimson. Realizing what she'd touched, she apologized and searched for the key elsewhere.

"What is going on today?" she muttered. "Is the universe determined to give me a hard time? Even the key is hiding!" She reached into the deepest part of the pocket, but still couldn't find the darn key. She fumbled anxiously, to no avail.

Through the cloth, Rupert felt Annabel's hand brush against his thigh. Her touch sent waves of exhilarating, excruciating electricity through him.

"Rupert, where's your key? It's not here!"

After a while, Annabel, exhausted and sweating, was still supporting Rupert's weight. He patted his pocket with his uninjured hand, frowning. The key wasn't there. His expression darkened.

"I just remembered," he said, "it's in the other pocket."

"What the—" Annabel cursed.

Rupert shrugged and pointed to his right pocket.

Annabel was exasperated. "This scheming man!" she thought. "He must have done it on purpose! I just kicked him! How could he be so mean? Besides, I didn't mean to hurt him! He jumped in front of me to block the knife!"

Grumbling, she fumbled with the key to unlock the door. Finally, it opened, and she used her remaining strength to drag Rupert to the couch.

"Stay there," she said.

As she stood, her legs buckled.

"Ah!" she cried, falling into Rupert's arms.

"Can't you wait before throwing yourself at me? We just got here," Rupert teased.

Annabel's ears burned. She glared. "It's all because you practically made me carry you here!"

Rupert leaned back on the sofa and shrugged. "You kicked me."

Annabel was speechless. She hadn't meant to kick him! "Time for your medicine," she said, changing the subject. She fetched his prescription and placed it before him.

"One pill a night…" she began, but her stomach rumbled loudly.

Rupert chuckled. "Hungry?"

Annabel was embarrassed. She'd been so busy, she'd forgotten dinner. She was famished.

"I'm hungry, too. Let's order takeout," Rupert said, taking out his phone. "What do you want?"

"Is there anything in the fridge? I can cook. My cooking isn't bad," Annabel offered, since she disliked takeout.

Rupert's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You can cook?"

Annabel smiled. "Of course. But I seldom do. You're lucky today. Consider it a reward for saving my life."

"One usually has to marry the person who saves their life," Rupert said, sitting up straight, his usually indifferent eyes flashing meaningfully.

Marry? Annabel rolled her eyes, stood up, and went to the kitchen. Rupert's apartment had a housekeeper who kept the fridge well-stocked.

Annabel found plenty of fruits, vegetables, and frozen goods. It was late, so she opted for something simple: spaghetti. She chose ingredients, washed them, and began to cook.

After taking his medicine, Rupert watched her from the living room. He could only see her back as she worked in her apron, looking like a wife preparing dinner for her husband. His expression softened. He stood and walked to the kitchen. Bruce's words echoed in his mind: "Anna's a good girl. Spend more time with her, and you'll see. Rupert, you won't want to miss her." Maybe he should get to know Annabel better.

Just as Annabel was about to add the ingredients to the pot, Rupert's voice interrupted her.

"Do you need help?"

Annabel turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. His handsome face was unusually gentle, a faint smile playing on his lips, his charming eyes fixed on her—two whirlpools threatening to drown her.

Self-conscious, Annabel quickly averted her gaze to his leg. "I thought you couldn't walk," she frowned.

"You're right," he said. "I need you to help me to the dining room."

"Go yourself. Can't you see I'm busy?" She pushed him out of the kitchen and slammed the door.

Despite being dismissed, Rupert smiled.

By the time Annabel finished cooking, Rupert was waiting at the table.

"Here you go," she said, placing a plate of spaghetti before him. "It's late, and I know you're hungry, so I just made some spaghetti."

Rupert looked at the glistening, appetizing food. He raised his head to look at Annabel, but she was already happily eating her own portion. He chuckled softly. His fiancée was something else. Women like Heather and Nina always pretended to have small appetites, but he wasn't interested in them. Annabel, however, ate with gusto, oblivious to him.

After finishing, Annabel looked up to find Rupert staring at her, his spaghetti untouched.

"Why aren't you eating?" she asked, frowning. "Don't you like it?"

Without a word, Rupert lifted his injured hand meaningfully.

"You can use your other hand!" Annabel exclaimed, shocked by his audacity.

Rupert pursed his lips. "It's my left hand. I'm not used to eating with it."

"So you don't want to eat?"

"I'm not," he said, stopping her from taking his plate. "Feed me."