Chapter 200: I Don't Want You to Leave Me

In the moonlight, Oscar carried Hannah into a black car. Shivering, she clung to his neck, her trembling uncontrolled despite the immediate danger having passed. Oscar understood; he held her close, letting her remain nestled in his arms throughout the drive.

Arriving at the villa, he carried her inside. A man, his wounds seemingly more severe than Hannah's, stood politely at the entrance. "Master Oscar," Jimmy apologized, "I'm sorry. I failed to protect Ms. Hannah."

Hannah's excitement at seeing Jimmy was palpable. She knew he'd done his best, protecting her at the risk of his own safety. Before she could speak, Oscar's cold voice cut through the air, "Go back and treat your wounds." It was unclear if this was a reprimand or merely a statement of fact, devoid of any concern. Jimmy, without protest, respectfully agreed. Hannah remained silent, watching him go.

Oscar carried Hannah into the hall where Max, visibly shocked by her blood-soaked appearance, awaited. "Master Oscar," Max said, hurrying forward. "Help me bring the first-aid kit," Oscar ordered.

Upstairs, Oscar gently placed Hannah on the bed as Max set the kit on the nightstand before leaving. Oscar opened the kit, fetched hot water, and returned. Hannah held his hand tightly, her panic evident. His voice, a stark contrast to the brutal man she'd seen in the warehouse, was now gentle. "I'm just helping you clean your wounds," he said.

Hannah's lips pursed. "Relax," he said, his tone surprisingly casual. "I've seen your body many times; I know what you look like with my eyes closed." Hannah was speechless. "Good girl, let go," he murmured, his affection evident in his gentle voice.

Hannah stared at him, sensing sincerity in his eyes. "It's ugly," she whispered. A gentle smile, like a sunbeam, touched his lips. Had she not witnessed his ruthlessness earlier, she never would have believed this man capable of such tenderness.

"I will never despise you," he said. His melodious voice repeated the words in her mind, her heart racing. She was easily moved by him. She released his hand.

He carefully unfastened her blood-stained shirt, revealing wounds covering her body—scratches from the shattered car windows. Fortunately, there were no internal injuries. He cleaned the blood with a hot towel, his gaze serious but devoid of lust. His eyes were clear, respectful, even tender. She felt no threat, only a profound sense of respect.

"Ouch," Hannah cried out, the pain a sharp reminder of her nakedness. Oscar’s presence, however, had captivated her, making her forget her surroundings.

"Be patient," he said, his voice showing a hint of indifference, yet his touch grew noticeably lighter. He cleaned her wounds carefully, blowing on them to ease the pain. It was a scene almost unimaginable—the haughty, capricious Oscar exhibiting such gentleness.

Hannah was captivated by his tenderness. She wondered what kind of woman could resist his allure, could possibly not be infatuated with him.

He carefully disinfected, medicated, and bandaged her wounds, leaving her almost completely swathed in bandages. Despite this, he still put on a soft, oversized set of lounge wear to protect her injuries.

Over an hour later, he gathered the first-aid kit to leave. "Oscar," Hannah called. He turned. "Where are you going?" she asked, fear of abandonment rising within her. His bravery, his gentleness—they had stirred something within her. She wanted, just for tonight, to indulge her feelings.

"Are you reluctant to part?" he asked seriously.

"Yes," she admitted, "I don't want you to leave me."

"Do you know what that sentence means? What it means to a man?" he asked.

She did.

Oscar stared at her, a slight resignation in his smile. "Hannah," he said, "you always know how to torture me."

Hannah stared, surprised. Did she torture him?