Chapter 3

I was on edge, unsure what to do next.

Suddenly, the phone rang, and I shot up like it was a lifeline.

Vanessa pouted, clearly annoyed. "Fine, I'll let you off this time. Go on, pretty boy."

She took the call and waved me off with a dismissive hand.

Strangely, I felt an inexplicable pang of disappointment as I left.

Just as I reached the foyer, I remembered I'd forgotten a tool. When I turned back, I overheard Vanessa say:

"Of course you're the best, Ryan. Not just your massage skills—you're incredible in bed too."

My mind raced. Was she talking about Ryan Roscente? But earlier, he'd acted like he didn’t know her.

She didn’t seem about to hang up, and I wasn’t the type to eavesdrop.

I figured I could always come back for the tool later—or just leave it. It wasn’t worth much anyway.

On the way home, I kept thinking about this "Ryan" she’d mentioned.

Coincidentally, Ryan was at my apartment when I got back.

He smirked when he saw me, slinging an arm over my shoulder. "So, little cousin, how was the client? Big?"

Before I could stop myself, I shot back, "You tell me, Ryan. Shouldn’t you know?"

I instantly regretted saying it out loud, but it didn’t matter. He’d seen Vanessa’s photos—he knew exactly how "big" she was.

Ryan clicked his tongue. "Don’t trust photos, kid. These days, editing can turn a pumpkin into a princess."

"Last week, I had a client who’d gained fifty pounds during pregnancy. Her social media pics? Total catfish."

"Goddamn pregnant women. So damn fussy."

He ranted on, and I studied him carefully.

Even if they knew each other, why hide it from me?

Was he afraid I’d steal his clients? Maybe.

I shrugged it off and moved on.

A few days later, another booking came in.

The address was Vanessa’s. A competitive spark flared in me.

She’d claimed I couldn’t compare to Ryan, yet here she was, calling me back. Honestly, I had full confidence in my massage skills.

I packed my gear and headed to her place.

When I arrived, the door was wide open. Before I could step inside, the sound of shattering dishes and a heated argument spilled out.

Vanessa was screaming at a man—someone I didn’t recognize.

This wasn’t my business. If it was a lovers’ quarrel, my presence would only complicate things.

I peeked inside cautiously. The place was wrecked, furniture smashed to pieces.

The man yanked Vanessa by her hair, dragging her out. Tears streaked her face, a brutal handprint stark against her pale skin. Despite the pain, she clutched her swollen belly protectively.

"Please," she sobbed. "I’m pregnant. Don’t hurt me—don’t hurt the baby!"

When he reared back to kick her stomach, I snapped.

I couldn’t stand by and watch. That kick could’ve killed her.

I rushed in to intervene.

Vanessa’s eyes lit up with desperate relief. "Help me! I don’t even know him!"

Broad daylight, and this bastard was assaulting a pregnant woman? Unbelievable.

I punched him square in the face. With my strength, it didn’t take much to pin him down. One hand kept him immobilized while the other reached for my phone.

Then Vanessa screamed, clutching her stomach in pain.

Distracted, I loosened my grip—and the guy bolted.

Fury burned through me. What kind of coward hits a woman? I’d have beaten him senseless if I could.

Vanessa whimpered, tugging my arm. "It hurts… carry me to bed."

Her pallor worried me. Without hesitation, I scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.

As for the attacker? This was a high-end neighborhood. Cameras would catch him.

The moment I laid her down, she clung to me.

Pregnancy had made her curves even more pronounced. The soft warmth pressed against me sent my pulse racing.

My mind flashed back to that glimpse in the bathroom—the pink peaks atop those full, pale mounds. It had haunted my dreams for nights. With no girlfriend, I’d had to rely on hand relief.

Now here she was, the woman from my fantasies, in my arms. Heat surged through me.

I quickly eased back, putting space between us.

"Don’t worry," I reassured her. "They’ll catch him."

Then, to my surprise, Vanessa begged me to stay the night. She was terrified the man would return.

I hesitated. What if her husband or boyfriend showed up? My presence would raise questions.

"He wouldn’t care," she said bitterly. "He barely visits."

Her voice turned pleading. "Please, just this once. I’m alone here. If that monster comes back… I can’t defend myself."

How could I say no?

I agreed.

That night, I slept in the room next to Vanessa's. Just as I was drifting off, dizzy with exhaustion, I thought I heard the sound of a woman's moans from next door—each one louder than the last.

Faintly, I even heard someone calling my name.

Then, a soft, warm body slithered into my arms like a snake.