The Day I Stopped Waiting Was the Day He Started Begging novel Chapter 129

"Just go home," Madeline said, staring blankly at the reinforced steel gates.

York ignored her entirely, dropping into a crouch and reaching for the hem of her skirt.

The moment she tried to pull away, a searing spike of pain shot through her ankle. She gasped sharply, all the color draining from her face.

The man kneeling before her instantly caught her hips, stabilizing her with effortless strength.

"Madeline, I am a six-foot-three billionaire with a face most women would kill for. Why do you flinch like I'm carrying a plague every time I touch you?"

"Keep your hands to yourself, York."

"So defensive. I'm starting to think you're projecting your own dark desires onto my innocent intentions."

"Did it cross your mind that I just wanted to make sure you didn't snap your ankle?"

York's long fingers expertly probed the delicate bones of her ankle.

Madeline let out a soft whimper of pain.

"You have a history of bad sprains, yet you still insist on going to war in stilettos."

York rose to his full height, his tone dripping with its usual lazy arrogance.

"You're lucky. It's not sprained, just a little inflamed."

Madeline stared at him, blinking slowly as she muttered defensively.

"I like these shoes."

Just hours ago, he was playing the devoted gentleman, shielding Felicity from the rain and personally escorting her away.

And now he was here, putting on this suffocating display of concern for his wife.

Back during their honeymoon phase, the first time she had injured her ankle, York had reacted the exact same way.

Except back then, his protectiveness had been possessive, almost feral. He hadn't bothered asking for permission before scooping her into his arms and carrying her away.

The setup was identical, but the shattered remnants of their marriage made the moment feel entirely hollow.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Wait in the car. It's going to be a while before anyone from that house shows their face."

"Why are you being so accommodating, York? What's your endgame?"

Madeline offered a cynical, half-hearted smile.

"Do I need an endgame? Honestly, Maddy, I'm dying to know what kind of monster you think I am."

"I can't be that much worse than a serial killer, right?"