Chapter 13 Quite the Variety

The bright streetlamps cast patches of light into the car, Eleanor's hand still firmly in Aaron's grasp.

The more she struggled, the tighter he held on.

A silent tug-of-war, the disparity in their strength evident, she exerted all her might against his relaxed hold, as if he were toying with a child.

Eleanor's face flushed with indignation and anger at his overbearing behavior.

Finally done teasing, Aaron pulled her close, lifting her left leg and placing her calf on his.

His muscular thigh through the fabric of his trousers pressed against Eleanor, pinning her down as she desperately tried to escape.

"What's the point of struggling now?" Aaron said, lifting the hem of her dress to reveal the bandaged wounds on her calf and heel.

She had previously been in a business suit, the iodine-treated injuries clearly visible, and had since changed into a longer dress.

Then, he pulled off the scarf around her neck, exposing a bandaged bite mark on her neck.
His voice dripped with unspoken sarcasm, "One injury piled on top of another, Eleanor. You are always affected."

Eleanor averted her gaze as the warmth of the man grazed the skin of her calf. She couldn't help but shiver, a reflexive response, and struggled to pull away.

Her hand accidentally slapped Aaron across the face.

The sound resonated with a smack.

Wesley, who was driving, froze. So did Eleanor.

Aaron's right cheek visibly reddened while Eleanor's palm tingled, her force having been full throttle.

Grayson would have cheered and applauded her, saying it was a good hit, if he were there.

But in truth, Eleanor felt a pang of hollowness inside.

Aaron, all grown up now, apart from that one kidnapping in his youth, had never suffered such an indignity—a slap from a woman.

Even Wesley, cool and composed as he was, dared not glance at Aaron's expression through the rearview mirror and silently raised the partition in the car.

In the closed space, Eleanor's heart pounded. "Do I need to remind you about your upcoming engagement?"

"So what?" Aaron’s face fell as he met her eyes, his tongue pressing against the cheek she had slapped, the bitterness in his tone unmistakable.

Eleanor looked down, straightening her skirt. "From now on, we can only be cousins. What you did earlier was out of line."

"When you clung to me, insisting on being my woman, you seemed to forget our relation then, didn't you? Eleanor, don't be a hypocrite," his voice hardened.

"I was drunk then."

Aaron chuckled, taunting sound. "Denying it after the fact. You think you can play the field, but you've got to have the chops for it."

His voice was close to her ear, and before Eleanor could react, it was too late.

He encircled her waist, whispering intimately, "Do you even believe that yourself?"

Eleanor's chest ached as her eyes brimmed with tears, and she called out in a raspy voice, "Brother."

Aaron's eyes briefly swept over her fluttering eyelashes, now damp. Suddenly, he let go, "Well played, Eleanor."

"Please, Aaron, let me out here," said Eleanor as she moved to the corner.

Pulling a cigarette case from a secret compartment, Aaron tapped out a cigarette and lit it, his tone indifferent, "Do me a favor, and I'll let you go."

Without elaborating on the favor, Eleanor couldn't even imagine what it might be. Aaron had everything at his beck and call since childhood—what could he possibly need her help for?

The car turned into the elite Jinling Estate, heading towards Aaron's secluded manor situated in a prime location.

Seeing Aaron leading her towards the second floor, Eleanor remembered her previous visits—times spent wide awake rather than sleeping, with no leisurely exploring. She only knew the second floor housed his master bedroom area.
She halted her climb, suggesting, "It's late, Brother. You should get some rest. If it's inconvenient for Assistant Cao, I can drive myself back."

Aaron stopped in his tracks without turning around, his voice neutral, "What do you think Grandfather would say if he knew Riley accepted something from the Vaughn family?"

"How do you know it wasn't me?" Eleanor was taken aback.

Aaron glanced at her, a smirk playing on his lips, "Of course it wasn't you. You wouldn't even take the things I got for you, so why would you accept that trash?"

He had never asked her if she took anything because he knew she never would.

Eleanor inwardly chuckled bitterly. Was this trust?

"Come upstairs," Aaron commanded, walking into the master bedroom without waiting for her to respond.

The threat was all too clear.

Eleanor followed Aaron into the master bedroom, bracing herself for him to use this as leverage to coerce her into being his mistress, but she was wrong.

Aaron led her to the walk-in closet, pulled open a drawer filled with neatly arranged, luxurious ties.

One of them was a gift from Eleanor. Though not as expensive as his others, it had cost her a month's salary.

He never wore it.

His gaze briefly swept over her face as he suggested with a laugh, "Aren't you the one who called me 'Brother'? Brother's engagement is coming up, and I need help trying on ties."

Each 'Brother' felt like a stab to her heart.

It was a brutal strike at her vulnerability; Aaron knew exactly how to wound her deeper.

Eleanor's eyes reddened for a moment, and turning away, she said, "Vincent's got better taste than me. Besides, you'll be helping her pick out dresses the day after tomorrow. Why not try them together?"

"What fiancée understands me like my sister does?" Aaron's eyes twinkled meaningfully as he looked at her.

He thrust a tie into her hands, leaving no room for refusal.

"Tie this for me," he ordered coldly.

Standing at over six feet tall to Eleanor's five foot seven, she used to have no trouble tying his ties. But with her leg injured, stiff and hesitant to exert pressure, she deliberately kept a slight distance. Aaron, as if oblivious to her discomfort, looked down at her challengingly, a faint chill on his lips, "What's wrong? Unwilling?"

"Not at all," she replied, gritting her teeth.

With a determined effort, she stood on her toes, but a sharp pain shot through her heel. Her leg buckled, and she fell into Aaron's arms.

His arms dangled by his side, not intending to catch her. He stood firm and mocked, "Quite the performance, huh?"
"You're overthinking it," Eleanor snapped, seizing the moment of his distraction to loop the tie around his neck.

Quick as a flash, she pretended to accidentally tighten it around Aaron's throat, murmuring an apology while secretly wishing she could just strangle him right there.

She managed to keep her cool—and, to her surprise, Aaron didn't seem to hold a grudge.

The knot she tied was exquisite. Eleanor knew all sorts of techniques, but the Windsor knot was her favorite. It suited Aaron's style perfectly—bold and powerful.

Unwillingly, memories flooded back. He used to keep her up all night, and then, early in the morning, nudge her to help with his tie. Although tired, she'd indulge him in that husbandly request, dreaming dreams that were unrealistically sweet.

Now, those dreams were shattered. She was fixing this tie not for her husband but for his engagement to another woman.

She fought to control her breathing, feeling the sting of tears welling up.

The pain was sharp as a needle prick as she clutched the tie and took a deep breath, making the final twist.

"Done," she said, letting go and stepping back.

Aaron stood before the mirror, adjusting the tie without an ounce of emotion. "I don't like this one. Choose another."