Chapter 122: Ambiguity
Zachary lowered his head, his handsome face closing in on Winona.
With such proximity, Winona's heartbeat raced, and she pushed against his chest. "What the hell, Zachary?"
Due to their closeness, Zachary spoke in a lowered voice, as chilly as ever, yet laced with a hint of amusement. "Given up on Matthew? Thinking of giving Austin a shot?"
His breath caressed her lips. Winona tilted her head back in an attempt to gain some distance, but her head was already pressed against the door; there was nowhere to retreat.
"Aren't you supposed to be applying some ointment? Go lie down over there."
She nodded toward the couch and gave a push against Zachary, who seemed to be just moments away from pressing entirely against her.
The position was fraught with the risk of misunderstanding; a single careless move could lead to misunderstandings. Zachary Bailey, though, seemed to have a higher tolerance for such situations. During the three years Fiona Clark was absent, there were no rumors of him being close to any woman—still, who knew what twists fate had in store?
Zachary Bailey chuckled lowly, his lips brushing against hers. "I'm asking you a question."
Even without going further, that simple touch left Winona Sullivan feeling overwhelmed, especially as his lips grazed hers while he spoke.
Her rationality snapped like a broken taut string, and she didn't care if her frantic struggle would anger Zachary. She pushed against him with all her might, trying to break free from his hold.
Silent, she didn't give him the chance to catch her off guard.
Even from this close distance, he could clearly see the rejection and panic in her eyes.
She really didn't want his touch.
Her eyes, reddened by anger and hurt, the delicate nose, pursed red lips, blushing cheeks, and her pale, smooth skin—all of it tempted him to kiss her.
Without regard, unabashed, ignoring all her resistance.
With Zachary's skill, he could subdue a woman single-handedly, and given the natural strength disparity between men and women, she had no chance of escape.
Winona could feel Zachary's reaction...
Her eyes widened in astonishment, disdain flooding her gaze—indeed, a man's heart and body seemed to operate separately.
The instigator himself, Zachary Bailey, felt no embarrassment being seen through. Meeting Winona's gaze, he even murmured hoarsely, "Stop moving."
With gritted teeth, Winona retorted, "If our positions were reversed, and I told you not to move, would you listen?"
Zachary's lips curled into a smirk, his laugh low. "You could always try."
Alright, it was impossible to communicate with Zachary Bailey.
In the midst of the awkwardness, two knocks—'bang bang'—sounded at the door. "Winona, you there?"
Matthew Watson...
Relief clearly flickered in Winona's eyes. At this moment, she would welcome anyone, even a stranger.
She looked at Zachary, her silent plea clear: "Let go."
But Zachary's gaze remained icy and unmoving on her, both knew what the other was thinking, yet neither spoke a word.
It felt like an eternity and yet only a few seconds had passed when the knocking came again, more urgent this time, "Winona?"
Zachary Bailey muttered, "Make him go away."
His voice was a hushed growl that didn't betray his presence, even though Matthew Watson was just on the other side of the wall.
Winona Sullivan didn't even consider it. "No way."
Without Matthew, there was no telling how long Zach's rage might last. After witnessing his previous outburst, her faith in his moral compass had plummeted.
Her refusal seemed to cast shadows over Zachary's handsome features in the dim light. His grasp tightened on Winona's hand, pinning it against the door, as his lips hovered close to her ear, "One Matthew, one Austin... how many more men do you plan to bring into your future?"
It was then that Winona Sullivan truly realized—being loved by a man could manifest in utterly different states.
He was kissing her.
But it wasn't the fierce, ravenous kind that devoured. It was torturous in its tenderness—the softest nips at her earlobe, the brush of lips down her neck, tracing the contours of her face with maddening gentleness.
Winona couldn't hold herself together any longer. All reason shattered as she screamed, "Zachary Bailey, are you insane?"
No matter how she kicked or struggled, Zachary stood immovable, never showing a hint of pain.
Desperately, she banged on the door behind her, trying to make enough noise to alert Matthew Watson outside, not caring if it would further enrage Zachary, who was already a powder keg, "Matthew, Matthew..."
Zachary snickered coldly as his hand, previously on her waist, slid under her shirt and glided along her spine, "Winona, who are you calling?"
Winona barely heard him, or maybe she did but chose to ignore it.
All she knew was that she had to stop him.
"Winona Sullivan," Zachary's fingers clenched her chin, his eyes stormy and his voice hoarse as if scraping from the depths of his throat, "Do you like him that much? Pity Matthew doesn't want you. You could throw yourself at him and he'd still turn you away."
"Do you really think Matthew would lose his composure so much that he'd step into our marital affairs?"
Meeting Zachary's eyes filled with scorn, Winona felt a pang of despair: No, he wouldn't.
After Winona Sullivan called out Zachary Bailey's name, the sounds of Matthew Watson knocking ceased. The world outside became dead silent, their heavy breathing and heated argument the only disturbances in the still air.
Winona stayed silent, staring down her adversary with fierce, cornered determination, like a cornered creature poised for a final stand.
In the quiet, the fingerprint lock on the door buzzed, signaling that it recognized the print and was unlocking. Matthew Watson pushed the door open and stepped inside...
Winona was pinned against the door by Zachary, yet Matthew made his entrance, evidently having exerted considerable effort.
Noticing the scene, he furrowed his brow, his voice calm but firm, "Zachary, you've frightened her."
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