Chapter 51 Feared Nothing
Tilda bit her tongue lightly, trying to calm herself down.
“Oh, right–I almost forgot.”
Jude’s thin, cold lips lifted in the faintest smile. “Then, as an apology, all you need to do is say you want it. No matter rain or storm. I’ll make sure you get it in no time.”
“Mr. Bell, is this how you win over girls? You’re the CEO of DY Group, not exactly a guy with lots of free time.”
“If it’s for you, it’s worth it.”
He said it seriously, without hesitation.
His burning eyes had no hint of a joke—only sharp intensity, like fire cutting through the night.
“Thank you, Mr. Bell. But I’m a little tired. I’d like to rest.”
Her voice was calm and steady, but it was a dismissal. A gentle push, keeping her mind from sinking back into the pull of his scent.
Because if Jude stayed any longer, if they kept standing here alone, this man, with his overwhelming presence, would push her Omega-type blood to the edge.
And no matter how strong she was, Tilda was still just a woman.
She couldn’t promise nothing would happen.
“Then I won’t disturb you. Goodbye, Tilda.”
“What…”
“Your name is beautiful. I like calling your name.”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
What’s going on?
Tilda felt dizzy, lightheaded, as though she could hear her blood rushing too fast inside her body.
Every word Jude spoke was like sweet poison slipped into her mouth.
It was so sweet, sweet enough to drag her under.
But instead of sweetness, it poisoned her.
It took all her willpower to finally push Jude out of the apartment.
The second the door shut, she collapsed onto the couch.
One hand covered her face as she breathed hard, pulling in and pushing out air.
It took a long time before the burning in her blood finally started to calm down.
“Damn it… Staying too long around someone of the same Omega-type blood really does mess you up like this?”
Her mind clearer now, she got up, rubbing her temples.
Before, she’d only been near Jude for short moments, never this close and alone for so long.
This was her first time feeling these side effects.
The couch where Jude had sat still carried his warmth.
The air still held his scent, pulling at her.
No.
I need a shower. Something to snap me out of it, and fast.
Meanwhile, Jude slid into his Maybach after leaving her place.
He looked down at his fingertip.
He could still feel the heat of Tilda’s lips.
He lifted his hand, pressed that finger to his mouth, and slowly ran his tongue across it.
Her taste.
It’s so intoxicating and addictive.
The same side effects burning through Tilda’s body were crawling through his.
His blood surged hot, every cell screaming the same thing.
Hold her.
Claim her. Consume her.
Like a predator dragging prey back to its den.
But… patience.
Jude clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles went white, veins standing out across his forehead.
His eyes gleamed strangely in the dark, blooming like poisonous flowers—beautiful but dangerous.
“Mr. Bell?”
The driver kept his eyes on the road.
Jude’s figure was swallowed by the shadows of the backseat.
The driver couldn’t see him—otherwise, he’d be scared to death.
Because this Jude was nothing like the man people saw in daylight.
“Head back.”
“Yes, sir.”
The next morning.
Russell woke up at 9 a.m.
He rubbed his temples with a groan.
He hadn’t slept well at all.
He figured it had to be because of what happened with Tilda yesterday.
“I did nothing wrong. I was just worried about Wade, that’s all.
“And if Tilda hadn’t messed up so many times before, driving me crazy, I wouldn’t have snapped and blamed her like that! If anyone’s at fault, it’s her. How did I end up with such a useless, ungrateful daughter? She’s a curse on this family. If only Kyla had been my real daughter, my life would be perfect.”
As a father, as a man with status and pride, Russell refused to bend.
Tilda wants a face-to-face apology? Ha. Dream on.
No way I’d throw away my dignity like that.
He was twisting things in his head, trying to call yesterday’s cruelty “concern,” convincing himself he’d done nothing wrong, when a series of door knocks rang out.
Knock, knock, knock…
“Honey, are you awake?”
“Yeah, I’m up. Come in.”
Russell thought Blair was missing him.
His lips curved into a grin—a grin that only belonged to men foolishly, happily in love.
Everyone knew that Russell feared nothing. Nothing, except Blair’s anger and her tears.
People said he was obsessed with his wife, and Russell wore that title like a crown.
After all, Blair was the woman he had begged the heavens for, chased for years, and finally won with relentless pursuit.
She was the woman he chose above everything, without regret.
His life motto was simple: Everything could be thrown away, even his sons. In a crisis, he wouldn’t even bat an eye at them. But Blair was worth more than his life.
He loved her more than anyone, cherished her, and wanted to give her the whole world.