Chapter 1197
He yanked at his collar, a deafening buzz ringing in his skull. Staggering to his room, he fumbled uselessly with the door.
A pale hand reached out, gently covering his own, and pushed the door open for him.
Through his blurred, spinning vision, Healy caught a flash of familiar dusty blue.
“Noreen,” he choked out.
His voice was thick with whiskey, entirely incapable of separating reality from his desperate fantasies. Driven purely by instinct, he dragged the woman into his arms, chanting her name like a prayer.
“Noreen.”
“Noreen.”
He dipped his head and captured her lips.
Gia Vance shivered violently in his grip.
For a fleeting, euphoric second, she thought she had actually won. She kissed him back with reckless abandon, her fingers digging desperately into the collar at the nape of his neck like a drowning woman clinging to a raft. The kiss was frantic, almost brutal.
“I’m here,” she breathed against his mouth.
Even if he was only kissing her because he thought she was Noreen, she didn’t care. As long as they slept together tonight, she could salvage their crumbling relationship. That was the only reason she had dragged herself all the way to Northcrest.
But her eager response struck Healy’s clouded mind like a bolt of lightning. He froze, his entire body going rigid, before violently shoving her away as if she had physically burned him.
Caught off guard, Gia crashed hard onto the carpet, her elbow smacking the floor with a dull thud. She looked up, lips swollen, her eyes still hazy with lingering desire, only to collide with Healy’s absolute, terrifyingly frigid glare.
He towered over her, his chest heaving violently. The alcohol fog had been obliterated by a harsh, sobering wave of pure repulsion and blinding rage.
“Get out.”
His voice was deadly quiet, but it slashed through the air like a blade coated in frost.
Gia opened her mouth to speak, but his next words pinned her flawlessly to the floor.
“She wouldn’t have kissed me back.” Healy stared down at her as if looking at a pathetic, repulsive knock-off. His lips curled into a cruel, ruthless sneer. “You can’t even fake it right.”
With that, he turned on his heel, kicked the bedroom door open, and slammed it shut with earth-shattering force.
Out in the darkened living room, Gia sat completely paralyzed. Her lips stung, and an agonizing chill seeped deep into her bones.
…
The next morning, Claire lounged in her hotel room until past ten o’clock. Having received absolutely no signs of life from Noreen, she gave up and headed down to breakfast alone.
Coincidentally, Wilbur was in the dining hall too. Luckily, he hadn’t spotted her yet.
Claire smoothly detoured around his section and took a table in an entirely different
room.
Just as Wilbur had declared last night, they were strictly platonic friends.
After breakfast, Claire retreated to her room to read over her new script. It wasn’t until past two in the afternoon that Noreen finally surfaced.
She texted Claire, asking if she had eaten yet.
“If I waited for you to come up for air, I’d be dead from starvation,” Claire shot back.
“Glad to hear you can feed yourself,” Noreen replied.
Half out of genuine concern and half pure nosiness, Claire asked, “Did you survive?” Given the explosive tension and the fact that he hadn’t touched a woman in years… Noreen was brutally honest. “Barely.”
“How bad are we talking?” Claire demanded.
“I can’t feel my legs.”
“Hot,” Claire typed.
“???” Noreen sent back.
“Autocorrect! I meant ‘horrible’!”
Noreen rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what Claire was implying Massaging her fiercely aching lower back, she sent a highly pitiful voice note. “I am officially missing the old Seth.”
At least back then she wasn’t exhausted to the bone. At least she used to get a full night’s sleep.
Now, just trying to swing her legs over the mattress felt like an Olympic sport.
While she was texting Claire, Seth
strolled into the room carrying a tray of food? His eyes crinkled with
blatant amusement, looking like th
picture of absolute masculin satisfaction.
It infuriated Noreen to no end. They had practically engaged in an athletic marathon last night, and he had done the lion’s share of the physical labor. So how the hell was he practically glowing while she felt like she’d been hit by a truck?