Chapter 8 You Recognized Me?
1065 Words
The bottle grazed Elena's cheek and smashed against the wall with a deafening crack.
If it had been just half a second later, her head would've taken the hit.
Elena felt her whole body go limp, the tension in her mind unraveling like a kite that had lost its string.
Bastian tightened his grip around her, and he shot a cold glance at the drunken fool who had been harassing Elena.
"You've got some nerve," he said in a flat tone. "But using it here? That's a quick ticket to trouble."
The drunk tried to keep his balance, a smug grin plastered on his face. "And who the hell are you? Think this is your turf?"
Before he could get any further, the bar manager rushed over with sweat pouring down his face. He shouted at the drunk, "Exactly! This is his turf! This is a Hawthorne bar!"
The drunk's smirk faded in an instant.
Bastian had been making his usual rounds at their family business tonight when he unexpectedly stumbled upon Elena in distress.
His expression darkened as he said in an icy tone, "When did my bar turn into a den for creeps?"
The manager bowed his head and stammered apologies, "Mr. Hawthorne, I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I swear it won't happen again. You can count on me to handle it."
Inside, the manager was cursing, 'Geeze! That i***t actually messed up with Mr. Hawthorne."
"Then get rid of the trash now," replied Bastian.
The manager nodded and immediately signaled to the bodyguards lurking in the corners. They moved swiftly and silently subdued the drunk and dragged him into the shadows as if he had never existed.
Elena was completely out of it, and she was nestling in Bastian's arms. He lifted her effortlessly, making his way through the bar and disappearing into the night.
The breeze was cool tonight, and it was just a moment when their fate intertwined once more.
Bastian carefully helped Elena into his car.
Elena just nestled in his hold, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol.
As she leaned against his chest, he could hear her soft and uneven breaths.
At that very moment, a mix of emotions surged within Bastian—she was always so stubborn, yet now she seemed so fragile.
Ever since he had that fateful encounter with her on the yacht, Bastian was determined not to let Elena slip away from his life again.
He carried her into the hotel room and gently lay her down on the bed.
She rolled over and mumbled something in her sleep.
Bastian stood at the bedside and watched her peaceful face as if time had frozen.
Her long hair spilled across the pillow, and she curled up under the blankets like a small kitten seeking warmth.
As his gaze drifted down, he noticed a faint scar on her thigh—a slender, delicate mark that traced from her knee up to her thigh, holding secrets he could only guess at.
His expression grew serious with a frown.
He reached out to touch her scar, yet his fingers hovered in the air and ultimately pulled back.
Just as he was about to leave, he heard Elena's voice. "Why... is it always you?"
Elena's eyes were still bleary, but they quickly locked onto his figure.
Bastian raised his eyebrows and asked, "You recognize me?"
There was a hint of mockery in his tone, since he knew clearly that she probably saw him as just another stranger she had crossed paths with.
Elena propped herself up and rubbed her throbbing head, trying to shake off the fog.
Her gaze was unfocused, and she licked her dry lips. "What are you doing in the bar?"
Bastian replied, "Why can't I be there?"
She frowned, clearly thinking hard about it.
Suddenly, it hit her—the "special service" comment from the yacht sparked her drunken memory. She thought, 'Is he working in the bar... and fishing for rich women?'
Elena's eyes roamed over him involuntarily—his chiseled face, perfect body frame, muscular abs, every inch radiating strength. He moved with a magnetic presence that could ensnare anyone.
Then, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Why didn't you call me?"
Elena paused for a second and said, "Call you? You mean that day...?"
Suddenly, she remembered that promise from the yacht. He was upset that she hadn't fulfilled her end of the deal!
A tipsy smile spread across her face as she said, "Oh, sorry, I forgot it."
She reached for her phone and added, "Just name your price, and I'll transfer it to you right now."
But before she could grab it, Bastian caught her wrist and held her in place.
Elena looked up at him and was momentarily stunned.
His face was just inches away from hers, and his stare was intense, as if he were struggling to contain something deep inside, or like a silent question.
"You really think I saved you just for the money?" His breath brushed against her ear, warm and intimate.
Elena was caught off guard by his almost aggressive stance, and her body warmed from the alcohol.
There was an irresistible desire radiating from him!
She fought to maintain her composure and tilted her chin up, her lips almost brushing against his jaw. "Then what do you want?"
The light danced across his chiseled features, every angle carved like a masterpiece.
His Adam's apple bobbed like a silent allure.
Bastian didn't answer right away. Instead, he cupped her face, his thumb gliding softly over her lower lip.
"Maybe..." he said in a low, husky voice, like a whisper, "I want you."
At that moment, Elena felt her heart skip a beat, and she was captivated by the depth and intensity of his gaze.
She realized that instead of resisting, deep down, she was hopelessly craving this moment.
She wanted to be swept away by that overwhelming passion.
Slowly, she closed her eyes, her lips parting slightly like an unspoken invitation.
Just as she was about to surrender, Bastian suddenly pulled back.
His fingers slipped away from her face, taking with them all the warmth, and the spark in his eyes quickly dimmed.
"I won't take advantage of you." His tone was flat and restrained, as if the heated moment they just shared had been nothing but an illusion.
- Writer
