Page 39 of Possessive Billionaire's Twisted Hunt

“I’m dropping you off,” he said, his grip tightening around her.

“I don’t need you to. I can go on my own.”

His grip only tightened, his eyes met hers. “I told you, I’ll drop you off.”

With that, he settled her into the car and climbed in beside her.

As the car started moving, Christian reached out, suddenly lifting her and pulling her onto his lap.

“Christian!” she snapped, pushing against his chest. “Stop it.”

"I want you in my arms," Christian muttered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her head against his chest. "Just sit here. I promise I won’t do anything else," he whispered.

Ivy stiffened, his firm embrace keeping her locked in place. Her hips rested on his lap, her legs stretched out along the seat, and his arms tightened around her body, making any escape impossible. After several seconds of resistance, she finally gave up and remained still in his hold.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Christian’s gaze drifted out of the window, but soon, his head lowered, his nose brushing against her hair. He inhaled deeply, his fingers moving gently through her strands, massaging her scalp in slow, soothing strokes.

Despite herself, Ivy felt something in her chest tighten. His touch—so warm, so careful—sent a strange sensation through her. His breath tickled her ear, and the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back made her acutely aware of how close they were.

Christian held her securely, his legs stretched out, one hand resting on her hip while the other ran through her hair with an almost reverent tenderness.

The entire ride passed in silence, the only sounds in the air were their quiet breaths. As he had promised, he didn’t do anything else. He simply held her.

When the car came to a stop, Christian finally released her, his arms slowly loosening as he helped her sit back in her seat. Without sparing him a glance, Ivy wordlessly opened the door and stepped out. Christian got out from the other side, watching as she walked briskly toward the office building.

But just as she was making her way forward, a sudden wave of dizziness hit her. Her vision blurred, and her body swayed. She tried blinking to clear the haze, but it only worsened. Before she could react, her knees buckled, and she felt herself falling.

Before she could hit the ground, a strong pair of arms caught her just in time.

When Ivy opened her eyes again, unfamiliar voices murmured in the background.

“She’s alright for now,” the doctor’s voice reassured. “Just a little anemic. She doesn’t seem to be eating much, which is why her blood pressure is low. Just make sure she eats properly, and she’ll be fine.”

The doctor’s voice faded as Ivy’s gaze slowly adjusted to the surroundings. It wasn’t her house. The familiarity of the room sent a shiver down her spine. Christian’s house. There were traces of his existence all around this room.

She turned her head, her gaze landing on a painting hanging on the wall—a wild forest, mist curling between dark clouds, the wet leaves glistening in the rain. She remembered pointing at a similar image once, telling Christian she loved places like that. And now, here it was—a large, breathtaking painting placed right in front of the bed.

The doctor finished his instructions and left the room. Christian, who had been standing by the bedside, finally turned to face her. Seeing her awake, he sat down beside her.

Ivy shifted slightly, trying to sit up. He immediately reached out, supporting her until she was properly upright. Once she was settled, Ivy looked up into his dark eyes. He silently handed her a glass of water, bringing it to her lips as if she were too fragile to hold it herself.

She took a slow sip before setting the glass down. Then, she met his gaze.

“I’ve thought about it,” she said, her voice quiet. “Let’s get married.”

Christian stilled, his eyes locking onto hers. She couldn’t tell what he was searching for in her expression.

“Ivy…” His voice was softer this time. “Do you really want to marry me?”

She held his gaze, unflinching. “We’ll get married for a year,” she continued. “If I fall in love with you in that one year, I’ll stay. If I don’t, we’ll get a divorce, and you’ll never look for me again.”

Christian’s expression remained unreadable, but his answer was immediate.

“Okay.” His voice was quiet. Resolute.

“I want an agreement,” she added.

His lips curled into a small smile. “Okay.”

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