Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 418

Madeline possessed a breathtaking, intoxicating radiance, paired with the icy elegance she had inherited from Rosemary Monroe.

Doris had secretly projected decades of bitter hatred onto her, intent on utterly destroying her marriage, and Penelope's obsession made her the perfect weapon.

Madeline stared into Quentin's bloodshot eyes.

Unable to hide her concern, she asked, "Does it still hurt?"

Quentin answered honestly, "Not great. The drug hit my bloodstream too fast, so getting my stomach pumped didn't do much good."

Madeline thought for a moment. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She had meant to ask if he needed her to fetch a cold compress to soothe his feverish skin.

Instead, Quentin immediately ordered his bodyguards to go out and buy him some light soup to settle his stomach.

Madeline didn't realize he was intentionally clearing the room. She walked toward the en-suite bathroom to grab a towel for a makeshift cold compress.

Suddenly, Quentin locked the hospital room door from the inside and followed closely behind her.

He placed his hands over hers, resting his chin heavily on the top of her head. Without saying a word, he silently helped her wring out the wet towel.

Madeline paused, letting him do as he pleased.

When he finished, she turned around, wrapped her arms around his waist, and hugged him tight.

"Is your stomach still aching? Are you still in pain?" she asked softly.

"I stop hurting the second I look at you," he murmured, his voice incredibly deep.

Madeline smiled faintly. She reached up, gently stroking his jawline before pressing the cool, damp towel against his forehead.

She chided him softly, "Liar. It's not like I'm the antidote."

"You are..." Quentin stated with absolute certainty, pulling her flush against his chest. His fingers began tracing slow, deliberate circles on her back.

His hands trailed down to her waist, giving it a possessive, heated squeeze, before settling heavily on the curve of her hips.

His touch felt like an electric shock.

He tilted her delicate chin up, lowered his head, and lightly bit her lower lip.

He kissed her slowly, savoring the softness of her mouth. He would kiss her, pull back just enough to look into her eyes, and then close his own, kissing her with a desperate, drowning intensity.

Their breathing tangled together.

Hot, urgent, and crashing over them like a tempest violently thrashing against the ocean.

He backed her out of the bathroom, pressing her down onto the hospital bed.

Madeline heard the metallic click of his belt buckle.

Startled, she caught his hands, her wide eyes flickering with worry. "You just had your stomach pumped."

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice terrifyingly calm, but his hands didn't stop.