Scarlett POV:
I ran downstairs, skipping several flights of steps. I didn't know why I was so worried after seeing him barely able to stand on his own—but I was. Very, very worried.
When I reached the bottom floor, I saw him. He shoved the bodyguard holding him away and said, "Did I tell you I need your fucking help?" His tone was calm as he began walking off.
But I was still worried. I didn't know whether it was the way he was walking—without his usual confidence—or the way he kept rubbing his hair as he moved.
I rushed toward him and grabbed his free hand. "Mr. Grey, you don't look well. Let them help you inside," I said, my voice filled with worry.
Instead, he yanked his hand away and pushed me back.
I landed in the ground.
"Shut up and get out," he ordered, heading inside the house.
When he was out of sight, one of his bodyguards approached and offered me a hand. I accepted it and stood up with his help.
"Thank you," I said. He gave a small bow and turned to leave, but I stopped him.
"Umm… please wait," I called out.
"Yes, ma'am?" he replied.
"What happened to Mr. Grey?" I asked.
"Honestly, ma'am, I don't know," he said before walking away.
But I could tell—he knew something. He just wasn't telling me.
I turned to leave when I heard a voice behind me.
"Ma'am, please don't go see the boss. He might hurt you," he warned, making me shiver.
I knew what Mr. Grey could be like when angry. He turns into a homicidal maniac— without control.
Turning around, I thanked him and went back inside.
I couldn't believe it. The same person I'd been so worried about—without knowing why—had pushed me away without a second thought. What an asshole.
I walked upstairs to my room. I passed his door, but something kept pulling me back.
I returned to his door and stood in front of it, fear gripping me.
I was scared. What if he hurt me? Or worse—put a bullet in my head? I staggered back.
Xavier's POV
I staggered toward my drawer, my head pounding from everything that happened. The cliff had brought back memories—horrible ones that ruined me long ago.
Sliding the drawer open, I grabbed a container of pills. My hands were shaking, and they slipped through my fingers, scattering across the floor. The container dropped too, spilling the rest everywhere.
I picked up a few pills and was about to toss them into my mouth when a hand grabbed mine—stopping me.
I looked up and saw my pony, her eyes wide with fear.
She wasn't supposed to see me like this.
I pushed her hand away and stumbled toward the bathroom, trying to walk normally, ignoring the dizziness.
But a second later, I felt her small, warm hands wrap around my waist from behind.
The warmth of her body spread through me, shutting down my defenses and making my heart beat faster. Why the hell was I feeling this way?
One moment her touch triggered bad memories, and the next it made my heart race. What the fuck was happening to me?
She released me and took my hand, gently guiding me toward the bed.
I felt like a mindless shell—no longer in control. She lay down and pulled me with her. My body fell against hers, her eyes still filled with worry. Slowly, she turned me onto the other side of the bed. I didn't know what she was planning. She adjusted the pillow under my head.
"What do you want, pony?" I asked.
She didn't answer. Instead, she moved closer, wrapped her arms around me, and pulled me against her.
"Nothing. I just want to sleep like this," she whispered, kissing me lightly. "Good night."
My eyes stayed open for an hour. I didn't want to sleep, afraid my nightmares would wake me and she'd see a weaker version of me.
But slowly, I moved closer into her embrace. Sleep finally claimed me.
Morning — Scarlett's POV
I opened my eyes and let out a small yawn. Looking down at the gorgeous man still wrapped around me, I gently brushed aside some hair covering his face and stared at him.
He looked so cute while sleeping. Not murderous—peaceful. Almost loving. I smiled.
I wondered what happened last night. Did he get into a fight? He had been so furious, so out of control, I thought smoke would come out of his ears.
I didn't even know how I got the courage to enter his room. But I just found myself walking into the lion's den like a willing prey.
And those pills… why did he always take so many? Let me check the description.
Slowly peeling myself out of his embrace, I tiptoed toward the drawer where pills were scattered.
I searched the floor and finally spotted the container behind a glass table. Bending down, I reached for it. This had to be it.
I flipped it over to read the usage instructions—
"Drop it."
His voice came from behind me—still sleepy, but fierce.
I froze and slowly set the container down, turning around like a criminal caught red-handed.
I swallowed.
"Good morning, Mr. Grey," I said.
As always, no reply.
I walked toward the bed to get my slippers. After putting them on, I tried to leave, but his voice stopped me.
"Wait," he ordered.
My heart sped up.