Trouble in Paradise



Chapter 0545

"You were walking just fine earlier. But now, you're saying you can't move?" I muttered under my breath.

Nicholas glanced up at me. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," I sighed.

Since he'd already moved in, there was no way I could kick him out tonight.

Lowering my head, I picked up the bag from the floor and took a few steps toward the bed. Without caring whether the bag was clean or not, I tossed it onto the bed.

Nicholas' breath hitched, as if caught off guard by my actions. He stayed silent, saying nothing.

He shifted his leg slightly, trying to hook the bag with his foot. Every movement of his thigh set his muscles into motion, and the creases of his gray boxer brief deepened in shadow. All of a sudden, he turned back to his sexually attractive self.

After a few tries, he failed to pull the bag up. Instead, it fell apart, spilling clothes across the bed.

Nicholas' voice was filled with sadness as he said, "If you didn't want to bring it to me, you could've just said so. I wasn't forcing you. But throwing it onto the bed where I sleep? That's unnecessary."

Supporting his waist with one hand, he strained to grab a shirt. The effort made the scars on his forearm darken alongside the veins bulging on his skin.

"Just leave."

Nicholas didn't lift his head, his voice calm as he folded his clothes. Yet, it carried an undercurrent of endless

sorrow.

He folded the shirt neatly before reaching for the tie. As he held it up to smooth it out, his arm revealed the tattoo of my face, staring back at me in perfect detail.

In that instant, all my muddled, fleeting thoughts vanished. I wanted to ask him something.

What had he been thinking, day after day, while tattooing my face onto his skin? Was I really that important to him? If I was, why was I never his first choice?

Why was it that no matter what I endured-pain, loss, even the death of our child-he still kept Claudia by his side?NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

He had the chance to send Claudia abroad, the chance for us to build a life together. But he didn't. He knelt before Daniel, begging on her behalf.

So, what meaning did this tattoo really hold?

"What are you standing there for?" His cold voice yanked me out of my spiraling thoughts. "Standing there without helping-are you here to mock me?"

His voice was low, and every word carried a weight of melancholy.

I stayed silent, moving to the foot of the bed. Picking up the scattered clothes, I began folding them one by one. The bed was enormous, and the distance between his trousers and me felt even greater than the length of his legs.

Wanting to finish quickly and leave, I kicked off one slipper and knelt on the bed. But before I could reach the trousers, my wrist was firmly caught in his grasp.

Nicholas' gaze deepened. In the reflection of his pupils, I saw myself awkwardly sprawled across the bed. Apart from the light spilling in from the hallway, there was only the faint glow of a bedside lamp.

I wasn't sure whose breathing was more erratic-his or mine-but the temperature seemed to rise around us.

Though I was in loungewear, it didn't cover much more than regular clothes. My neckline was loose, and being in this position in front of him was utterly embarrassing.

"Nicholas!"

"Ariana,"

Our names slipped out almost simultaneously. Mine was sharp with anger, but his was low and husky, carrying a dangerous allure.