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Novel Catalog
Chapter 63
What surprised Matthew most wasn’t Veronica’s stunning and delicate appearance, but her remarkable skill and ease with guns. Her handling of the situation earlier had only deepened his suspicions about her identity, making her even more enigmatic to him.
“Pfft! Who’s scared?” Veronica scoffed, lowering her head to glance at their hands still tightly intertwined. “If you’re not afraid of embarrassing yourself, why should I be afraid?”
Her words hung in the air as they fell into silence for the rest of the trip. Matthew, still processing everything, moved through security with Veronica and Yvonne. He couldn’t help but wonder how Thomas had managed the negotiations with the mercenaries. All Thomas had to do was pass them over to Matthew’s men, and then Veronica was free to leave with him, while Yvonne went with Thomas.
Soon, they were aboard a helicopter, the noise of the blades roaring around them, but neither spoke. A few hours later, they landed at the rooftop of the Twilight Club in Bloomstead. As the helicopter doors opened, they stepped out and descended the stairs together, entering the penthouse.
The moment they were inside, Matthew acted swiftly. He pressed Veronica against the wall by the door, his eyes narrowing as he towered over her. “Why didn’t you come to me for help?” His voice was low, but the tension in it was palpable.
Veronica, caught off guard, scowled, unamused by his sudden aggression. “I couldn’t remember your number. How could I call you for help?”
Matthew’s lips pressed into a tight line. “You couldn’t remember my number, but you could remember Xavier’s?” He sounded incredulous.
Veronica met his piercing gaze, and something in the depths of his eyes gave her pause. A chuckle escaped her before she could stop it. She tilted her head, lifting an eyebrow. “Are you… jealous? Tell me honestly, Matthew Kings—do you have feelings for me?”
Her question was playful, yet her eyes were full of curiosity.
Matthew’s expression faltered, and for a moment, he looked torn. He stared at her, at her face—the one so strikingly similar to Tiffany’s.
The truth was, Matthew had always felt a deep, almost visceral repulsion when he looked at Tiffany, but whenever he saw Veronica’s face, which looked identical, he couldn’t bring himself to feel the same. Instead, he felt a strange pull, a kind of acceptance. He found himself lingering on her features longer than he should have.
“Feelings for you? You think I’d have feelings for you just because you look like Tiffany? You’re a fool if you think so!” Matthew’s voice grew harsh, and he quickly turned away to walk off.
But as he made his way across the room, he tossed over his shoulder, “There’s only one bed here. You can either sleep on the couch or in the same bed as me. I won’t kick you out just because you’re a future member of the Kingses.”
Veronica was taken aback, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Y–You should be glad I’m not kicking you out!” she retorted, her voice tinged with indignation.
She glanced down at her clothes, which still carried the faint scent of another woman’s perfume. The discomfort of the situation crept over her, and she sighed. “Do you have anything I can wear? I want to take a shower.”
Matthew’s expression soured as he walked to the cloakroom, rummaging through the clothes before tossing a set of women’s attire at her.
Veronica caught the clothes and inspected them. It was a simple, stylish dress, but her lips tightened as she remembered the last time she had been in the penthouse—when two women had left. These clothes were likely prepared for them.
“Tsk! No wonder you like staying at the Twilight Club,” she muttered, her tone full of insinuation.
Matthew, now unbuttoning his suit jacket, froze mid-motion. He turned back to her, his gaze narrowing dangerously. “What did you say?”
His icy look bore down on her like a glacier, and even though Veronica felt the heat of his anger, she remained unruffled. “I’m only speaking the truth,” she said nonchalantly, walking past him. “I’m going to shower. I stink.”
As she made her way to the bathroom, Matthew remained still, watching her retreating form. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Does that mean she’s jealous? he wondered, a mix of amusement and curiosity stirring within him.
He walked over to the bar, pouring himself a glass of red wine. With the glass in hand, he moved toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. His gaze drifted out over the glowing city of Bloomstead, the bright lights painting the night in a dazzling array of colors.
For a long time, Matthew stood there, silently sipping his wine, his thoughts swirling. Despite the tension of the day, something about the sight before him—the beauty of the city at night—seemed to calm him. It was as if, for the first time in a long while, his heart had settled, no longer lodged in his throat.
Unconsciously, he poured himself another glass. Time passed unnoticed, and an hour later, his mind wandered back to Veronica.
Damn that woman! Has she drowned in the bathtub?
He set his glass down, frustration flaring up again, and walked to the bedroom. When he opened the door, he found Veronica lying in his bed, sound asleep, sprawled out with her limbs all over the place. She looked anything but demure.
He could hear her steady, even breathing, signaling that she was deep in sleep. With a resigned sigh, he stepped into the bathroom to take a shower before returning to his side of the bed.
But as soon as he lay down, Veronica shifted, instinctively curling up against him. She threw a leg over his, and before he could move, she nuzzled her cheek against his, as though he were a soft pillow.
Her movements were slow and unconscious, but the proximity made Matthew’s breath catch in his throat. The heat from her body sent a wave of discomfort over him, but he stayed still, unable to move.
Veronica continued to squirm, trying to get comfortable, until she eventually rested her head on his arm.
Matthew lay there, quietly studying her. Her features were peaceful in sleep—the soft curve of her nose, the gentle flutter of her eyelashes, and the ruby-red hue of her lips. Her skin, still creamy and smooth despite everything she had been through, was mesmerizing up close.
The mole on the side of her nose caught his attention, making her even more captivating. He reached out, almost absentmindedly, to run his fingers through her hair. It used to be longer, but the fire had claimed much of it, leaving it only to her collarbone now.
“Ugh–stop that…” Veronica murmured, her face twitching as his fingers brushed her hair. Her hand swatted weakly at his, still asleep, before she settled back against him, nuzzling him again as if she were a kitten.
Matthew’s body reacted instinctively to the closeness, a strange heat building inside him. It was a sensation he had never felt before—a desire so subtle yet powerful that it caught him off guard.
His mind flashed to Thomas’ words earlier: “Do you have feelings for Miss Murphy, Young Master Matthew?”
The question echoed in his mind, and as he lay there, unable to sleep, he realized he had no answer to it.
