Zoe froze. His warm breath brushed against her neck, leaving a tingling, itchy sensation in its wake.
As his slightly cool, thin lips brushed carelessly against her skin, her throat went dry. Fighting back the sudden flutter in her chest, she said, her voice trembling, "What are you doing? There are people outside."
Peyton and Ryan hadn’t left yet. They could walk in and see them at any moment.
Simon slightly lowered his eyes, staring at her delicate skin that had broken out in goosebumps—whether from nervousness or arousal. His hand, resting on her lower abdomen, traced absentmindedly over her navel. "Wouldn’t being seen be exactly what you want? Wouldn’t that be nice?"
Zoe couldn’t fathom what was going through his head at all. She grabbed his wandering hand. "Stop it. We still have guests, don’t tease me."
Logically speaking, today was their first day moving into their marital home. Perhaps... things were supposed to get heated between them. Could this be considered making up for their missed wedding night?
"Where did all that courage go?" Simon lightly bit the tender skin of her neck in a gesture that felt like both a punishment and an act of deep affection. "Zoe Lancaster, you’re the absolute best at saying one thing and meaning another."
Zoe’s eyes widened slightly. What did he mean she said one thing and meant another? Catching the faint, teasing smile in his eyes through the mirror, she finally realized she had been played.
Instantly annoyed, she spun around and threw her arms around his neck. "Since you’re not afraid, why should I care?"
She stood on her tiptoes, about to kiss him. Simon stared deeply at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Their lips were inches apart.
"AH!" A cry of pain from Peyton echoed from outside.
The haze in Simon’s eyes vanished instantly. He pushed Zoe away on pure reflex, turning on his heel and striding out the door without a second thought.
Zoe staggered slightly. After steadying herself, she wasn’t surprised in the least. She followed him out.
She saw that Peyton had accidentally bumped into the corner of the table. Her pant leg was rolled up, revealing a blossoming bruise on her calf. She was biting her lip, tears brimming in her eyes, looking as though she was in agonizing pain.
Zoe didn’t miss Simon’s expression. His face darkened instantly, cold and devoid of any warmth. He quickly stepped forward, scooped Peyton into his arms, and commanded with a grim expression, "Bring the car around. We’re going to the hospital."
Ryan looked equally upset, though he moved with lightning speed. The two brothers, completely fraught with anxiety, whisked Peyton away. The entire sequence of events took less than a minute.
The front door slammed shut. The massive house fell into a dead silence. All Zoe could hear was a ringing in her ears, mocking her utter insignificance.
Her expression placid, Zoe went upstairs to the master bedroom. Showering and applying her skincare routine took her nearly forty minutes.
Lying in bed, she looked at the empty space beside her. She reached over, her palm brushing against the cold mattress. Her expression was distant, filled with the numbness of someone who had known how this would play out all along.
It was just a bumped calf. Just a simple bruise. Yet, it was enough to make Simon’s face drain of color. He cared for Peyton to a degree no one else could ever hope to reach—treating her like a fragile treasure he was terrified of dropping.
What was she, his supposed wife, compared to that? Zoe closed her eyes. There was simply no comparison.
Just as Zoe had guessed, Simon didn’t come home that night.
Unable to fall back asleep, she got up and went downstairs. She stared at the glaringly out-of-place camellias in the living room for a long moment before grabbing every last one of them and tossing them into the trash.
She wondered what was really going on with Peyton that a minor bump necessitated a hospital visit.
Still, the injury had happened in their new marital home. It would reflect poorly on her if she didn’t at least check in. Resigned, Zoe found out the hospital’s address the next morning and drove over before heading to work.
Upon arriving at Peyton’s room, she gave the door a few taps. KNOCK, KNOCK. Only after a voice called out permission did Zoe push it open and step inside.
Peyton had actually been admitted. Zoe still couldn’t comprehend why.
Seeing her, Peyton offered a gentle smile. "You’re here so early. Thank you for coming to see me, Zoe."
Zoe placed the flowers she had bought on the bedside table and looked at the delicate woman. "How are you feeling? What exactly is the matter? Why did you have to be admitted?"
Peyton shook her head helplessly. "It’s nothing, really. It’s just that I’ve always had a weak constitution since I was little, and Simon got too anxious. He’s making a mountain out of a molehill, terrified that something serious might be wrong with me."
A flicker of emotion crossed Zoe’s eyes. So that was how deeply Simon cared for Peyton. After a brief pause, she said, "As long as you’re alright. I have to get to work soon, so I can’t stay long. Get some rest."
She didn’t want to linger; this visit was nothing more than a formality anyway.
Peyton glanced at the flowers Zoe had set down and suddenly spoke up. "Zoe.
"Could you talk to Simon for me? There’s really nothing major wrong with me. Tell him he doesn’t need to stay here day and night. It’s exhausting for him, and besides, you need him too."
Zoe didn’t turn around. Her lips twitched in a mocking, self-deprecating smirk. Without offering a single word in response, she walked out of the room.
Her legs felt like they were filled with lead, the weight of them dragging her down in both body and soul.
She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she spotted the man standing at the end of the corridor.
Simon was dressed in a crisp white shirt and a dark gray suit vest that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. With one long leg slightly bent, he had his head bowed as he spoke on the phone, his expression aloof yet naturally commanding.
Zoe hesitated for a moment before walking toward him.
Sensing someone approaching, Simon turned his head and met Zoe’s gaze. He paused briefly, then continued speaking into the phone in fluent English. "Mr. Gore, please go on. I’m listening."
It was clearly an overseas business call. Zoe had no energy left to care whether she was interrupting his work. "Are you coming home today?"
Simon looked down at her and, finding a brief gap in the conversation, replied, "Work is busy. I won’t be back today. You should go ahead and sleep without me."
Zoe’s heart seemed to suspend in her chest for a second before silently plummeting to the ground. Saying nothing more, she turned and walked away. There was nothing left to say.
Peyton claimed Simon was keeping vigil by her side day and night, yet Simon cited being overwhelmed with work. He was just spinning excuses so he could stay and take care of Peyton.
Simon frowned as he watched her retreating figure grow smaller in the distance. An inexplicable sense of displeasure settled over his heart.
It wasn’t until the voice on the other end called his name several times that he snapped back. "Mr. Hawthorne? Are you still listening?"
"I’m listening," Simon replied, refocusing. "I’ll finalize the specific details of the contract with your team tonight."
He hung up the phone and returned to the hospital room. Peyton had already gotten out of bed. She smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit jacket before offering a soft smile. "All done with work?"
Simon nodded. "Get back into bed. You shouldn’t be moving around."
Peyton gave him a reproachful look. "Are you really treating me like a glass doll? Am I that fragile? Zoe was just here. It was very thoughtful of her to come check on me."
Simon pressed his thin lips together, his response tepid. "Yes, I ran into her."
Peyton observed his expression for a moment before speaking slowly. "Zoe is a wonderful woman, so incredibly understanding. When she came in, she actually suggested that you spend more time with me. I had no idea she was so magnanimous."
Simon’s thumb, which had been absentmindedly rubbing his pinky ring, suddenly stilled. His fingertip turned white from the force of his grip. After a long while, he murmured, "Is that so? How magnanimous indeed."
But his voice had gone freezing cold, devoid of any warmth. After all, everyone knew that when a woman no longer cared, she could afford to be magnanimous.
Peyton said nothing more. Maintaining her smile, she patiently began to peel an apple. As she lowered her gaze, a profound, calculating gleam flashed through her eyes.