Chapter 94
The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the infirmary as Evelyn Sinclair stepped inside, Zachary Blackwood trailing behind her. The doctor was nowhere in sight, so she grabbed the iodine and bandages herself, expertly preparing to treat her wound.
“Let me do it,” Zachary’s voice cut through the silence, cold and commanding as he moved closer.
Evelyn turned away sharply, her jaw set. “I can handle it myself.”
Zachary was nothing if not relentless. He operated in extremes—either ignoring her existence entirely or inserting himself into her affairs without warning.
His fingers closed around her wrist in an unyielding grip. “Stay still, Evelyn,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
She stiffened, startled by the sudden command. Then she felt the cool touch of ointment against her skin.
Zachary worked with surprising gentleness, his long lashes casting shadows over his sharp cheekbones as he focused on her injury. The veins beneath his pale skin stood out in stark contrast, making his hands look almost sculpted—too perfect for someone so infuriating.
Some men were born with an effortless allure. Zachary was one of them.
His fingers traced the roughness of her palm, a frown forming. Her hands were softer than expected, yet marred by calluses—unusual for a woman raised in luxury.
A strange flicker of memory surfaced in his mind—silver moonlight, silk curtains swaying in a breeze. A scene he was certain he’d never witnessed, yet it felt hauntingly familiar.
He exhaled sharply, forcing the thought away.
It made no sense. He had never felt this way about Vanessa, his supposed perfect match. So why did his ex-wife—the woman who constantly defied him—stir something so unsettling?
Ridiculous.
Evelyn, meanwhile, felt the warmth of his touch seep into her skin, sending an unwelcome jolt through her. She jerked her hand back.
“You still need the bandage,” Zachary said through gritted teeth, tightening his grip.
She smirked. “What, afraid I’ll bleed out?”
His eyes narrowed. “What happened to your hands? Did you take up blacksmithing?”
“Close. I was elbow-deep in sewage all week,” she lied, knowing his obsession with cleanliness would make him recoil.
His expression darkened. “Must you always be so difficult?”
“Only with you.” She tilted her chin, flashing him a defiant grin.
Zachary clenched his jaw. Ever since their divorce, she had become bolder, more reckless—especially now that Nathan Whitmore had her back.
And yet, he couldn’t deny the pull she had on him.
The wound was minor, but Zachary worked with precision, his movements efficient. Despite his privileged upbringing, he wasn’t helpless.
Thanks to Dominic Whitmore’s intel, Evelyn knew more about Zachary than he realized. He had been the top cadet at the military academy, his skills unmatched—except by Julian Whitmore.
In truth, Zachary would have made an exceptional spy. His mind was sharper, his instincts deadlier. He could have taken Dominic’s place if he’d wanted.
But fate had other plans. As the Blackwood heir, his path was set in stone—business, power, legacy.
And yet, he had thrived. A prodigy in every sense.
But even geniuses had blind spots. His? Vanessa Delacroix.
Evelyn’s lips curled in disdain. She couldn’t care less about his romantic entanglements.
All she wanted was to be free of him.
They reached the parking lot, and Evelyn turned toward her Bugatti.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Zachary’s voice cut through the air.
“To my car. Obviously.”
“I’ll drive you.” His tone left no room for argument.
She scoffed. “Not a chance. I’d rather walk.”
She barely took two steps before his arm hooked around her waist, hauling her backward. The car door swung open, and she was unceremoniously shoved inside before it slammed shut.
Evelyn banged on the window. “Are you kidnapping me now?”
Zachary leaned down, his face inches from hers, one arm braced against the roof. His gaze was predatory.
“I don’t trust you, Evelyn.”
And just like that, she was trapped.
