The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 190

190 Chapter 190 Let Me Be Your

Lover

Blanche’s POVO

In the elevator, Amber caught snippets of Joanna’s cursing from outside. She didn’t seem fazed by it. Her focus stayed locked on me.

Working in modeling had toughened Amber up. A few harsh words weren’t going to break someone who’d survived that industry.

Honestly, Joanna’s tantrum barely made a dent in Amber’s composure–she’d weathered far worse storms than this.

She’d been on the receiving end of crueler words and dealt with nastier people than Joanna could ever be.

Vincent clutched me against him, his heart hammering with terror. When he spotted the blood streaking down

my face, his panic spiked even higher.

My face was buried against his chest, and my eyelids had already drifted shut.

“Blanche, stay awake–you can’t fall asleep! Look at me, please, I’m begging you, just look at me!” Vincent’s voice cracked with desperation.

Vincent dipped his head, brushing his face tenderly against mine.

He was teetering on the edge of complete breakdown, terrified that I might never open my eyes again.

He’d waited forever for this moment, and the thought of losing me again was unbearable.

“Don’t sleep, Blanche. I’ll stop trying to be your boyfriend, and I won’t push you into marrying me anymore. If you want to love Zain, then love him—just please, please wake up. I swear, as long as you get better, I’ll never pressure you again,” Vincent

whispered, his voice breaking as he pressed his face into the curve of my neck.

His sobs were so violent he could barely get the words

out.

Watching Vincent fall apart like this, Amber felt her heart squeeze. She reached over and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Mr. Aarav, Blanche’s going to pull

through. Try not to worry so much.”

But Vincent was too lost in his grief to really hear Amber’s words; his quiet weeping filled the small

space.

When the elevator hit the ground floor, Vincent swept me into the Emergency Department, holding me like I might disappear.

The doctors examined me and confirmed I was stable

-I’d come around soon.

Despite the medical team’s reassurances, Vincent was a wreck, pacing the hallway like a caged animal, his heart twisted with worry.

Up and down the Emergency Department corridor, Vincent’s restless figure moved back and forth without

pause.

Eventually, a nurse emerged and announced, “Mr. Aarav, she’s conscious.”

The second Vincent heard those words, he shot into the room like he’d been launched from a cannon.

I’d just regained consciousness, still feeling foggy and

disoriented.

Vincent burst through the door, abandoning all restraint. He yanked me into his arms, gripping me so tightly his voice shook with raw fear and desperation right next to my ear. “Blanche, please don’t ever scare me like this again, okay? I’m really scared–terrified,” Vincent begged, his voice trembling.

As he spoke, tears cascaded down his cheeks.

I felt something warm and damp against my cheek- Vincent’s tears, sliding silently onto my skin.

As my mind cleared, the events from earlier began filtering back to me.

I’d always assumed Vincent’s kindness was just an act, but right now, I could genuinely feel how frightened he was. ‘Is he really that terrified of losing me?‘

‘If he didn’t actually care about me, how could he possibly break down like this?‘ I wondered, stunned by his tears.

I went rigid for a moment, awkward and uncertain, but when I saw Vincent still sobbing uncontrollably,

my heart melted. I slowly raised my hand and rubbed his back. “Vincent, it’s just a cold, not some deadly disease. Come on… Stop crying, will you?”

Instead of releasing me, Vincent just pulled me closer. “Blanche, forget what I said before–I still want to be your lover.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Vincent, I’m a woman. How exactly are you planning to be my lover?”

When he heard me, Vincent finally loosened his grip, staring intensely into my eyes. “Let me be your lover. I’ll help you with your shoes, wash your underwear, warm your bed, cook for you, serve you soup, bring you water–whatever you need, I’ll do it. As long as you let me stay by your side, I’d do anything for you.”

His words stirred something deep inside me–whether it was genuine or not, I still felt moved.

My eyes began to sting, and I turned my head away, whispering, “Why would you want to do all these things that someone like you shouldn’t have to do?”

Vincent pressed my hand directly over his heart. “Because I like you. I’ve liked you for so long. Back

when you were marrying Zain, I asked you to be with me—I wasn’t just messing around. I meant every single word. I really do like you.”

I could feel his heart pounding against my palm.

My cheeks flushed as I tried to pull my hand back, but Vincent kept it firmly pressed to his chest. “Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

My face grew even hotter. “Vincent, let me go, okay?”

But Vincent wouldn’t release me. He guided my hand down to his waist, and with his other arm, he gripped me tightly around the waist and pulled me hard against him.

Then he leaned in, finally abandoning all self–control.

He closed his eyes and crashed his lips to mine.

His kiss was fierce and possessive, washing over me like a hurricane. His tongue swept into my mouth, hungry and reckless, claiming every part of me.

Every breath I took, every taste of me—he made them his, wild and unrestrained.

Against my ear, his low, desperate moans and pleading whispers begged, “Sweetheart, please, let me be your lover, okay? I don’t need a title–I just want you.”

Even as his mouth devoured mine, he pleaded with practiced, aching desperation.

My heart was in chaos, completely overwhelmed by the flood of his affection.

My scalp tingled, my mind was scrambled, and I had no clue what to do with my hands.

All I could taste was him; his presence lingered on my lips.

It was as if Vincent couldn’t wait to drown me in his

scent, desperate to make sure I would never forget

him.

But in the end, he didn’t cross any further boundaries; he just kept kissing me, not stopping until I was left breathless and unable to resist. Only then did he pull me gently into his arms and leaned down to press soft kisses across every inch of my face.

He didn’t care about the sweat or the blood–Vincent

kissed every trace away, lavishing my skin with desperate devotion, until all that was left was the feeling of him.

I sagged against his chest, my cheeks burning hot, my whole face about to catch fire from the heat and

embarrassment.

‘I’m still married… I haven’t even divorced Zain yet,‘ I reminded myself, nerves tangled up with guilt.

And yet, for reasons I couldn’t explain, there was a flicker of secret happiness inside me, sparks of joy dancing beneath the shame.

Out of all the beautiful, rich, powerful people he could have chosen–Vincent, with his looks, his money, his perfect everything–had fallen for me. Me. How was that even possible?

Even if his feelings weren’t real, at least I could say I’d experienced what it was like to be loved by him.

I closed my eyes, feeling as helpless as a lamb at the mercy of the butcher, completely powerless to fight back.

When Vincent finally let me go, he gazed down, drinking in every detail of my face, as if memorizing my features.

I didn’t answer his question, and Vincent didn’t push me for one. Instead, he leaned in, nibbled softly at my ear as he murmured, “You didn’t turn me down, so I’m taking that as a yes. From now on, I’m officially your

lover.”

His voice was practically buzzing with happiness as he

said it.

I was too drained to fight back, so I just let him say

whatever he wanted.

Not hearing any protest from me, Vincent flashed a cocky, bad–boy smirk.

Zain’s POV

After Joanna finished venting at Amber, I watched her take a moment to compose herself before she headed back to her department.

I knew she’d been buried in research all day–so

consumed with her work that she probably hadn’t even glanced at her phone once.

Later that evening, when she finally left the lab, I imagined she must have discovered the message I’d been hoping she’d see: “Carry’s fever won’t break. Family members, please come to the hospital as soon as possible to help care for her.”

The message had been sent that morning, but I figured Joanna was only seeing it now.

Even though Carry wasn’t her own daughter, she was still my little girl. And I knew that for Joanna, anything that concerned me mattered to her too.

That’s why when I saw Joanna walking toward me in the hospital corridor, I wasn’t surprised. The moment she’d seen that message, she’d rushed straight over without hesitation.

When she spotted me from a distance, I was slouched on a bench, feeling completely defeated. Something heavy was weighing on my mind–my whole demeanor

felt troubled and tense.

She walked over and quietly settled beside me,

reaching out to take my hand. “How’s Carry doing?” Joanna asked softly, her eyes filled with concern.

At the sound of her voice, I finally snapped back to reality. “She’s stable now. Nothing serious, but the doctors want to keep her under observation for the night,” I replied, my voice exhausted but relieved.

Joanna seemed to notice how drained I looked and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry I got here so late,” she said softly.

I gave her a small shake of my head. “Don’t worry about it. I know your research keeps you swamped.”

Joanna scooted closer until our shoulders touched. “Zain, rest on me for a while–you must be exhausted.”

Truth was, I was completely worn out. I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night, work had me running all day, and I’d spent the entire afternoon at the hospital.

And that fight with Blanche earlier just left me feeling even more drained.

When Joanna said that, I didn’t hesitate—I simply tilted my head and rested it on her shoulder.

Joanna reached out and gently stroked my hair, her voice barely above a whisper. “Get some sleep.”

My tense body finally relaxed. “Okay,” I murmured.

I closed my eyes, giving in to my exhaustion.

As I sat quietly on the bench with Joanna beside me, I noticed she seemed lost in thought, her expression distant and troubled. I wondered what was weighing on her mind, but I was too tired to ask. Something about her silence felt heavy, like she was wrestling with questions she couldn’t voice.