Chapter 2 Do You Really Want To Marry Me

Reaching the front of her building, Irene realized the message she had sent was still hanging in the void, completely ignored.

Under her breath, she let out a dry, humorless chuckle.

The thought crept in that Henry Shaw-brilliant airline captain, golden boy of the aviation world-had probably blocked her the moment she rejected him three years ago.

Rain hammered against the car roof. With a weary sigh, she pushed the door open, lifted her umbrella, and stepped into the downpour.

Halfway up the path to her building, her phone buzzed. Sean's name flashed across the screen. The moment she picked up, his irritated voice spilled out. "Irene, I already deleted that resignation letter. Do you have any idea how selfish you're being? Levi still needs tuition for his studies overseas, and Neil hasn't even scraped together enough to launch his business. Without Mr. Smith backing us, we're all doomed!"

Caiden's words from last night lingered in her chest, making her grip the phone tighter. She had fired off her resignation afterward without thinking-and she hadn't expected Sean to get to it first.

She steadied herself and laid it out for him. "Sean, the person Mr. Smith truly loves has come home, and the wedding's already in motion."

Her voice quivered, but her resolve didn't budge. "There was no way I was going to let myself become the other woman."

"Rena, I'm telling you this for your own good. You don't have the credentials or the pedigree, which is why staying with Mr. Smith is your best shot." The calm way Sean spoke didn't soften the impact; every line drove painfully into Irene's heart.

Shock snapped through her. Irene's eyes flew wide as she barked, "Sean, what the hell are you saying?"

He pushed right past her outrage. "This is just how the world treats women. Quit pushing back. Just stay with him and stop making this harder than it needs to be."

Then the line went dead, the abrupt click echoing like a slap.

As she stared at her phone, Irene breathed out a dry, cynical chuckle.

She wasn't trapped with Caiden solely because she cared for him-her entire family clung to her like parasites, gnawing at every scrap she earned.

Life had pressed her so thin that even the smallest flicker of warmth from Caiden had been enough to make her fall, despite knowing those gentle gestures were never meant for her in the first place.

A harsh snarl cut through the hallway. "So it's you, Irene... you ungrateful girl?"

The sudden voice jolted her. She spun around to find Tobias looming in the dim light, his clothes rumpled and his expression twisted with rage.

He had ruined himself with debt, nights at gambling tables, and bottles of cheap alcohol, leaving chaos wherever he went. The mess he created pushed his four kids to stay far away, avoiding him the way people dodge a disaster waiting to happen.

Never in her darkest thoughts had she expected to be the first one cornered by him.

Fear surged through her, and she instinctively bolted, but Tobias flung the empty bottle aside and lurched after her. He caught her by the arm with a bruising grip. "Where's your money? Give me every cent!"

"I don't have anything-let go!" Irene cried, twisting against him.

Her resistance only enraged him. Tobias fisted a handful of her hair and yanked hard. "Think you can run from me? If your mother hadn't risked her life for you, she wouldn't have died in that crash! You cursed girl-you owe me a wife, and you're paying me back!"

"What... what on earth are you talking about?" Irene queried, her voice trembling as confusion tightened her chest.

Her mother's death was the one wound Irene never touched, the grief buried deepest in her heart.

Caught in that surge of old grief, she didn't notice Tobias' hand darting in until he had already ripped her bag away. His other arm lifted, that big, calloused palm arcing toward her like a blow meant to split her cheek open.

Expecting the strike, Irene squeezed her eyes shut, breath hitching. But the hit never landed.

A strangled grunt reached her ears.

Irene blinked her eyes open and froze. Tobias hung in the air, pinned by the throat. A tall man had him by the neck, lifting him as if he weighed nothing.

His back blocked her view, broad shoulders wrapped in a fitted black coat, each line of him sharp and unforgiving. Long fingers dug into Tobias's windpipe, tendons standing out in stark relief, strength coiled beneath his pale skin.

Dressed head to toe in black, he carried a dark, suffocating aura that pressed down on everything around him.

Irene's pulse kicked hard against her ribs. When the man angled his head just enough for the light to catch his features, his face came into full view-clean-cut, arrestingly handsome, each line sharp as if carved with purpose. A pair of fierce brows framed a straight, elegant nose, but it was his eyes that stole the breath from her lungs-deep-set, narrowed slightly at the corners, carrying a chill so severe it felt like they sliced straight through the downpour and into her bones.

Sheets of rain blurred the world around her, turning everything into a watery smear. Everything except Henry.

His face remained impossibly clear in her vision, as though the storm itself parted just to keep him etched into her mind.

For a fleeting moment, Irene wondered if she had fallen into some surreal dream. Then Henry's voice-low and steady-cut through the rain. "Did you get hurt?"

The question snapped her back. She blinked, startled, and gave a small, quick shake of her head.

With a curt nod, Henry slid his hand off Tobias and let him drop, his expression tightening with blatant disgust.

Tobias clutched his twisted wrist. He was about to curse when he spotted a line of black-clad bodyguards storming toward them, their silhouettes slicing through the rain like an approaching wall.

Tobias stiffened, rage collapsing into panic. He backed away, stumbling as he spat out a hoarse threat over his shoulder. "You'll fucking pay for this! Just wait and see. I'll make you regret every second of it."

...

Irene still felt dazed even after stepping back into her tiny apartment with Henry.

The night had blurred into a surreal haze-had he really rushed over just because of that single message she had sent an hour earlier?

Once she murmured a stiff thank-you, an awkward quiet settled between them.

Anxious to escape it, she kept her gaze moving. When she caught sight of Henry standing there drenched, rain dripping from his sleeves, she blurted out that she would grab him a dry towel and practically fled toward the bathroom.

Henry lingered on her retreating silhouette for a few quiet seconds before his attention drifted to the room around him.

The modest apartment carried a soft, lived-in warmth, the kind that wrapped itself around a person with the ease of a whispered welcome-home.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth, unbidden, but it vanished the moment his eyes landed on a full row of nutrition books lining the shelf. His jaw tightened, and the curve of his lips flattened into a thin, unreadable line.

He stepped closer, narrowing his gaze as something tucked behind the books caught his eye. Wedged in the shadows were several well-worn medical journals and a yellowed stethoscope, its tubing curled like it had been forgotten yet never truly abandoned.

The quiet collection stood as a small but stubborn piece of Irene's long-buried dream.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Irene frantically sifted through the cabinets, terrified she had kept him waiting too long. She grabbed a fresh towel and hurried out, blurting, "Mr. Shaw, you-"

Her mouth snapped shut, the unfinished thought choking off while she halted in stunned stillness.

Henry stood there without a shirt.

Her gaze swept over him before she could stop herself-broad shoulders tapering into a tight waist, the ridges of his abs carved sharply beneath the light.

A quiet, magnetic heat radiated from him, a raw kind of masculinity that made her pulse skip.

Droplets of rainwater clung to his skin, sliding down each ridge of muscle before disappearing into the waistband of his dark suit pants. Her gaze followed one bead too long-far too low-before she jolted back to herself the moment his cool eyes flicked her way.

A flush rushed up her cheeks. She spun, instinctively trying to retreat, but Henry moved faster.

He stepped in, the wall pressing against her back as he braced a hand beside her, caging her in.

"What are you doing?" Irene's heartbeat thundered in her ears, her voice barely steady.

Before she could gather another word, Henry leaned in slightly, his tone low and unyielding. "Do you really want to marry me?"