She Left She Thrived She’s Worth Billions novel Chapter 415

But there was no time to dissect that mystery. Preston’s hand was bleeding profusely, sharp shards of glass still embedded deep in his flesh.

"Daphne, do you have a first aid kit? Rubbing alcohol, gauze, tweezers? I need to clean his hand right now," Melanie demanded, her voice tight with urgency.

"I'll go look!" Daphne called out.

Before she could run off, Preston's deep, steady voice intervened.

"It's fine. I don't need it."

"What do you mean you don't need it? Do you want to lose your hand?!"

Melanie glared at him, her expression fierce.

Instead of getting defensive, Preston's stoic features softened into something incredibly tender.

"You care about me that much?"

"Obviously!"

If he hadn't literally just taken a glass bottle for her, she would have slapped him upside the head.

"And seriously, you already caught the bottle! Why did you have to crush it with your bare hand?! That was completely unnecessary!" she grumbled.

Sure, it was the most alpha, badass thing she had ever witnessed, but it was self-sabotage!

Did he have a secret masochistic streak or something?

While Melanie was spiraling in sheer panic, Preston casually dropped a bombshell.

"I did it on purpose."

Melanie froze. What did he just say?

"You intentionally gave yourself a one-way ticket to a tetanus infection?!"

"I wanted you to feel bad for me."

Preston's words left Melanie completely paralyzed.

A few feet away, Daphne—who had just returned with the gauze, alcohol, and tweezers—immediately took three large steps backward.

It felt as if Preston and Melanie were encased in an impenetrable bubble of raw sexual tension, and she absolutely refused to step inside it.

Melanie couldn't wrap her mind around it. The normally reserved, untouchable Preston was deliberately playing her.

And it was working perfectly. Dressed in that sinful, bare-chested blazer, gazing at her with an intensity that could melt steel... Melanie felt completely and utterly seduced.

If the steady drip of blood hitting the floorboards hadn't grounded her, she would have been permanently lost in his intoxicating eyes.

"I should just let you bleed out," she muttered fiercely, trying to cover her racing heart. She waved Daphne over. "Daphne, why are you hiding over there?"

That last cheer was aimed entirely at Preston.

Preston offered a curt, grateful nod in return.

A minute later, Melanie found herself standing on the curb in the chill night air, clutching a bottle of rubbing alcohol, gauze, and tweezers, looking thoroughly unamused.

"Just so you know... in all the years I've known Daphne, this is the first time she has ever kicked me out of her club," Melanie practically ground out, shooting Preston a lethal glare.

Preston remained comfortably silent, offering no defense, though he made no move to rush her.

Melanie let out an exasperated sigh and glanced at his bleeding hand.

The cuts were deep; ignoring them wasn't an option.

Defeated, she led the way to the boutique hotel Daphne had mentioned. It was just down the block, impossible to miss.

There was only one massive problem.

It was a couples' love hotel.

"Daphne called ahead. I have everything set up for you. I guarantee you'll be satisfied," the owner said with a knowing smirk, personally escorting them down the hall.

He unlocked the door.

Melanie stepped inside—and completely froze.