Chapter 149 If You Don't Sell Yourself, I Will
Tristan, rocking a black shirt, looked even more intimidating.
As he walked over, his eyes locked onto Stanley.
Seeing Stanley still clutching Katniss's clothes, Tristan's jaw tightened, and you could see the tension in his face.
With veins popping on his forehead, he grabbed Stanley by the collar and yanked him away from Katniss.
One punch, and blood started pouring from Stanley's nose.
Stanley hit the ground, writhing in pain, but Tristan wasn't done. He kicked him hard in the stomach.
Katniss snapped out of it, feeling warm tears slide down her face. She pulled her T-shirt down, trying to cover herself.
Her eyes caught Tristan, who was still fuming, his muscles flexing as he kept hitting Stanley.
It looked like he wanted to beat Stanley to a pulp. Her lips quivered, and she whispered, "Tristan, stop..."
Tristan froze for a second, taking a deep breath.
He kicked Stanley into the pool, blood spreading in the water.
He turned around, grabbed Aaron's jacket, wrapped it around Katniss, and scooped her up.
As they reached the door, Katniss saw the chaos in the hallway: Nicholas, Ryan, and a bunch of bodyguards were all hurt, Stanley's bodyguards were sprawled out, and Aaron was knocked out in the corner.
"Aaron..." she muttered instinctively.
Tristan shot her a displeased look and snapped, "Shut up, worry about yourself first!"
She shrank back, staying quiet in his arms.
"You guys stay and clean up." Tristan ordered, carrying her into the elevator.
In the cramped space, Tristan's intense vibe filled the air, and Katniss could smell the smoke on him.
His jaw was clenched, clearly pissed. But she had almost been assaulted. Why was he so mad?
With everything going on, Katniss couldn't even be scared; she was more worried about his attitude.
He stuffed her into the G-Wagon and buckled her seatbelt.
Then he got in the driver's seat, started the engine, and the car sped off like a rocket.
In just twenty minutes, they were back at Celestial Villas. As soon as the car stopped, she blurted out, "Why did you bring me here? I want to go back..."
Before she could finish, he had already slammed the car door and got out.
The sound of the door slamming made her flinch. When she looked up, he had opened her door.
Unbuckling her seatbelt, he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her out.
He rushed inside, went straight to his room on the second floor, and placed her in the bathroom, turning on the shower.
"Undress," he ordered, his voice cold and firm.
She frowned, snapping back, "Then you go out!"
"Scared I'll see something?" He gritted his teeth, pinching her waist. "Is there anything I haven't seen?"
Katniss was left speechless.
Her body was freezing from the pool water. His warm fingers grabbed her soaked clothes and ripped them off.
Her skin was marked red from struggling too much.
Warm water streamed down from her head, soaking both her and Tristan's clothes.
His black shirt clung to his muscular chest, showing off his abs.
His fingers moved, unbuttoning his shirt.
The sound of the water couldn't drown out their heavy breathing.
This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but it was the first time Katniss felt completely lost.
She was forced but didn't resist what was coming next.
He had wanted her for so long, and now he lost control.
The image of Stanley tearing her clothes kept replaying in his mind, and his rough fingers left marks on her skin.
It was like he wanted to erase every place Stanley had touched.
She winced in pain, tears streaming down her face as she whimpered softly.
He suddenly snapped out of it, his actions becoming gentle, kissing away her tears.
"Don't cry," he whispered, his voice deep and hoarse.
With those words, Katniss felt even more upset, clinging to him like a koala.
Her hands hooked around his neck, and in the dimly lit bathroom, the only sounds were his heavy breathing and the water.
Her soft sobs added to the mix, and he, annoyed, silenced her again.
After a year, she seemed a bit unfamiliar, with him taking the lead.
He easily drew her in, finally finding an outlet for his pent-up anger.
The sky turned completely dark, and the room was lit with dim lights.
Tristan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a towel around his waist, smoking. The swirling smoke obscured his chiseled features.
He glanced at the sleeping Katniss on the bed, his heart feeling full.
Seeing the numerous marks on her skin, a rush of heat surged through his body again.
But he held back.
Earlier, he had been a bit too much. She initially cried out of grievance, but later, it was because he had truly made her cry.
He sat by the bay window, smoking through the night. His phone, set to silent, rang again and again on the bedside table.
He saw it but had no intention of answering.
At dawn, he turned off the lights, climbed into bed, and pulled her into his arms.
As the morning light crept in, he shielded her from the bright sun. She snuggled closer, shifting her position, and kept sleeping.
After coming out of the bathroom last night, she had fallen asleep just like that, without any clothes on.
And he didn't have any of her clothes at his place.
His hand rested on her waist, and no matter how she moved, his rough fingertips gently brushed against her delicate skin.
She woke up, slowly remembering what had happened last night, her eyes filled with mixed emotions.
Had they slept together again?
He was still beside her, and the long-lost feeling made her heart race.
She tried to move away from his embrace, but he hooked her waist and pulled her back.
Under the thin blanket, their bodies were pressed tightly together, and she could feel every change in his body.
"Don't move," he warned, his voice hoarse and low.
She felt a mix of shame and anger. "I want to go home!"
"Katniss, have you thought about staying with me?" His head was buried in her neck, his warm breath brushing against her ear and lips.
The tingling sensation and his words made her heart even more chaotic.
Her body stiffened, and he noticed.
He smirked and said, "Stay by my side like before, who would dare touch you?"
Like before? Like selling herself?
Katniss's lips curled into a sarcastic smile. "Mr. Forbes, just so you know, I don't need money anymore! I'm not selling myself. We're both adults; let's just pretend last night never happened. It's not like it's the first time we've slept together."
Her words infuriated Tristan. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around.
Her makeup-free face was tinged with pink, and her eyes reflected his angry expression.
'Does she have to measure our relationship with money?' Tristan thought.
His lips curled slightly, and his hand slid to her waist, pulling her body tightly against his.
"You don't sell yourself, I sell myself!" Tristan shot back.
Her surprise was cut short as he flipped over, positioning himself, ready to go.
"Am I someone you can sleep with whenever you want? That would be too easy for you! I'm the one putting in the effort, you're the one enjoying it, so you should pay!" Tristan said.
"I didn't enjoy it!" Katniss was furious, her wrists pinned above her head.
No matter how she argued, his actions proved she did enjoy it!
Three hours later, Tristan sat at the foot of the bed, shirtless, while Katniss, wearing his black shirt, held a first aid kit.
Her legs still trembled slightly as she stood behind him, applying medicine to his back.
Some of the scratches were from her, half out of anger, half out of uncontrollable passion.
Other bruises were from his fight with Stanley and his men, looking pretty rough.
"Should we go to the hospital?" Her tone was far from pleasant.
Tristan replied coldly, "No need, the swelling will go down in a few days."
Hearing this, Katniss continued applying the medicine.
Tristan, with his eyes downcast, noticed her standing barefoot on the carpet, her slender legs trembling.
He couldn't help but frown, turned around, and pulled her to sit down, then turned his back to her again for the medicine.
His skin was a healthy tan, and his muscular back looked incredibly strong.
She gently dabbed the scratched areas with a cotton swab, but he seemed unfazed.
"How's Stanley?" she asked.
Tristan raised an eyebrow as he replied, "Haven't had time to ask."
Since coming back yesterday, he had been entangled with her. Despite not sleeping all night, he looked completely satisfied and not tired at all.
She rolled her eyes at his back, just about to ask him to find out, when he reached over to the bedside table, grabbed his phone, and made a call.
"Mr. Forbes..." Ryan answered, and before Tristan could ask, he started reporting. "Stanley has three broken ribs and is recovering in the hospital. The Ortiz Family knows and is demanding an explanation. I've managed to hold them off for now, but they don't seem willing to let it go. Our project is short on funds, and if..."
Before he could finish, Tristan interrupted, "How's Aaron?"
Ryan paused, then continued, "He's also in the hospital, just some external injuries, nothing serious. The doctor suggested a few days of observation, but he insists on leaving to find Ms. Grey. I was just about to arrange his discharge."
"Make sure he stays in the hospital," Tristan said without hesitation, then added, "Did you hurt your hand?"
Ryan quickly caught on that this wasn't a literal question.
He hesitated for a few seconds, then quickly replied, "Yes, my hand is quite injured. I might not be able to work for several days, and there are many tasks I can't handle."
"Take a few days off," Tristan said, hanging up and tossing the phone aside.
The room fell silent, and Katniss struggled to process the information from the call.
"So many people got hurt because of you and Aaron," he said, turning to her.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Katniss tentatively asked, "Should I go to the hospital to take care of Mr. Gray?"
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