Janelle didn't bother struggling. Mainly, she genuinely had no strength left.
Erik kept several vehicles in Imperial Capital. Today, he'd driven a red Cayenne.
Carrying her to the car, he supported her with one arm while swiftly opening the passenger door with the other. He settled her securely inside, closed the door, and got into the driver's seat. He had zero desire to acknowledge Jason trailing behind them.
"Erik, I promised Jason dinner tonight." She'd already agreed; backing out felt rude.
"Tell him to follow." Erik didn't argue further. He simply rolled down the window and called out to Jason outside. After delivering the instruction, he drove off.
Jason had no choice but to have his own car brought around and follow.
Erik drove aggressively, pushing the Cayenne hard. Jason struggled to keep up.
Watching Jason's difficulty in the rearview mirror, Janelle spoke up. "Erik, he's not playing your game. Stop toying with him."
Hearing her defend another man sent a chill through Erik's heart. "You like him?"
"..." She was merely stating a fact. How did that equate to liking?
"If you don't like him, why speak up for him?"
"Fine, consider it that I like him then."
"You—!" Erik felt as if a blunt knife was slowly sawing through his chest. Even knowing this heartless girl couldn't possibly like Jason, hearing her say it clogged his throat with suffocating bitterness.
Her stomach pain intensified. Janelle's lips turned pale. At this moment, she truly had no energy to care about Erik's feelings.
Her silence made him glance over. Seeing her pallor, his concern instantly overrode his irritation. "Stomach acting up again?"
No matter how badly this little minx treated him, seeing her suffer twisted something inside him.
"Mm."
Erik slammed the accelerator. "Food's ready. We're almost there." It was past rush hour, the roads clear. Fueled by urgency, Erik blasted through several red lights.
Pulling into the garage, Erik got out, circled to her door, and opened it. Janelle stepped out, swayed unsteadily, and nearly fell. Erik's quick reflexes caught her, pulling her against his chest.
"Serves you right for not eating properly." He wanted to spank her for neglecting her fragile stomach, teach her a lesson. Scooping her up again, he strode towards the elevator.
Jason caught up just then. Seeing Janelle's ghostly pallor, he panicked. "Janelle! What's wrong? Are you okay? Should I take you to a hospital?" He'd only ever seen her vibrant and powerful. This fragile version was heartbreaking.
"Chronic issue. Food will help." Her stomach problems were literally starved into her; a true cure was elusive.
Jason hurried to press the elevator button. "Mr. Lorenz, perhaps I could carry her for a while?" he offered politely.
Erik shot him a look. "Why would I let you?"
She was his. Why hand her over? Carrying her himself was infinitely better.
"..." Why? That was a good question. But why did Erik get to hold Janelle at all?
Janelle felt unusually compliant. Wracked by pain, she simply wanted the quiet solidity of his embrace. Erik was dangerous. Yet, she hadn't expected being held by him to feel so… safe.
Erik had booked a private room at a renowned Imperial Capital restaurant, famous not for being trendy, but for its therapeutic cuisine. The manager, informed of Mr. Lorenz's arrival, had everything prepared. Seeing the Haoting Group CEO—a man whose mere sneeze could shake the nation's economy—carrying a young woman in his arms, the manager blinked several times in disbelief. Countless women had thrown themselves at this man, only to be dismissed. Many socialites, rejected, had even whispered rumors he preferred men. This scene shattered those whispers spectacularly.
"Mr. Lorenz, allow me!" The manager stepped forward, eager to serve the rare, prestigious guest.
His offer earned him Erik's patented death glare. Why was everyone trying to take her?
"Did… did I say something wrong?" the manager stammered.
"Her stomach is sensitive. Is everything prepared?" Erik carried her straight into the private dining room. She wasn't incapacitated, but resisting felt like too much effort.
"Yes, sir!" The manager signaled for the food immediately.
Erik placed her gently in a chair and instantly ladled a bowl of warm broth. "Drink this first. Warm your stomach."
Janelle found his intensity almost comical. Anyone watching would think she was dying.
"Jason, sit," Janelle gestured.
"Don't mind me. Drink the soup first." Jason knew the restaurant's reputation. The food therapy was genuinely effective.
Her stomach churned painfully. Eating with this condition was a delicate balance – too much or too little caused problems. She sipped a few spoonfuls of soup.
Erik hadn't eaten since noon either. Learning Jason, a Security Bureau agent, had taken her… knowing many of her activities skirted danger… he'd been frantic. His frantic chase to Imperial Capital, his reckless breach of the Bureau—ignoring potential consequences—stemmed purely from worry. He… was genuinely falling for her. This feeling was utterly new. The sheer intensity of his concern, even knowing her formidable skills, the panic her silence induced… it was unfamiliar territory.
The warm broth soothed her stomach slightly. Her color improved. "Both of you, eat." Why were they staring? Did they think watching her was sustenance?
Seeing the faint return of color to her cheeks, the tension coiled in Erik's shoulders finally eased. "I'm not hungry." Was Jason really the reason she'd stood him up?
Janelle picked up her chopsticks and placed a portion of vegetables onto Erik's plate. "Eat." He'd rushed here without stopping. He must be hungry too.
Seeing the food she served him, Erik's expression softened fractionally.
"Jason, eat too," Janelle urged.
"Miss Rovella, has your stomach always been like this? I know an excellent TCM doctor. I could take you."
"No need. It's chronic. Just need to be more careful with meals."
"Janelle, since you're here, why not? The doctor is truly skilled."
"Really, no." Janelle detested the bitter taste of traditional medicine.
Jason's phone rang—a call from his superior. He excused himself to answer it.
Finally rid of the unwanted third wheel, Erik frowned at how little she'd eaten. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, magnetic murmur laced with temptation. "Open your mouth."