Love Unspoken

Quinn recoiled instinctively, a shiver coursing through her body as a chill radiated from the man before her. His grip on her wrist was vice-like, a silent promise of restraint, preventing an explosive scene from unfolding right there. "Let's go back," he commanded, his voice as cold as his touch.

With a tight press of her lips, Quinn complied, trailing behind him in silence. His pace was brisk, almost ruthless, causing her to stumble in her attempts to keep up.

Before she could regain her footing, she was unceremoniously thrust into the car. The door slammed shut behind her with a resounding clang, the sound echoing in the confined space before she could even settle in. Without uttering a word, he steered the vehicle back towards the villa.

Upon arrival, he swung open the car door and yanked Quinn out with a rough tug. She stumbled in his wake, her feet struggling to find purchase as his grip tightened around her arm.

Suddenly, his hold on her slackened, and Quinn, caught off guard, lurched forward. Her knees made contact with the ground first, the impact sending a jolt of pain through her body. Her vision blurred momentarily, the world around her fading into darkness.

As she propped herself up on her hands, tears streamed down her face, carving wet trails on her cheeks. Before she could regain her composure, a pair of hands gripped her collar, hoisting her up from the ground.

flickered uncertainly as she met his glare. Alexander's anger morphed into a mocking laugh. "Quinn, have I been too

raised in a futile attempt to placate him. But before she could complete her gesture, Alexander flung her back onto the ground. "Stop gesturing!" he barked, his voice echoing in the silent

of all this gesturing? You let my words go in one ear

leaving Quinn frozen in disbelief. His gaze bore into her, a silent testament to his seething anger. She opened her mouth to respond,

tightened further, causing her to tremble uncontrollably. The pain was

her wrist once more, leading her upstairs. Quinn stumbled after him, her movements clumsy as she was practically dragged up

the bedroom floor, leaning over her with a firm grip on her chin. "Quinn," he said sharply, "I've told

plea, but Alexander remained unmoved. He pried her fingers loose and stood up to leave. In a desperate attempt to stop him, Quinn lunged forward, wrapping her arms

expression stern. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head vigorously. Her inability to voice her plea filled her with self-loathing. Her wild gestures, once a means of communication, now seemed both comical and