Not One, But Two!

Chapter 96

Greg wanted nothing more than to have the aggravating and pretentious Emma thrown into a holding cell once more.

"What are you doing out here when you're still injured?" he asked gruffly, not showing signs of softening up anytime soon.

Abigail was unfazed as she said pointedly, "I'm a patient, not an inmate. Why can't I come out for a stroll? Do I have to get your permission to leave the house, Mr. Buckley?"

Anastasia could practically smell gunfire wafting in the air, and she quickly interjected to placate both of them, "I was the one who asked Dr. Kain to visit. I was getting bored of having no one to talk to."

Neither Abigail nor Greg believed this. They could tell right off the bat that she was only trying to ease the brewing tension.

At that moment, Greg glanced at the time and saw that it was noon. He looked at Abigail and said brusquely, "Now that you've visited, let's go grab lunch."

"I'll pass. I'm not hungry." Abigail was telling the truth. She had breakfast before leaving the house, which wasn't too long ago.

There was a dark fire burning in his eyes as he stared at her mutinously. "You still owe me a meal, so I'm cashing it in today. Your treat."

She had never met anyone so demanding. He was asking her to buy him lunch with the same insistence as a debt collector who was after a debtor's money. Then again, she really did owe him a meal, and she figured it was better to get this over with now than to have him sulk later. "Fine. What do you have in mind?"

"I haven't thought of a place yet. I'll think of something on the way out." He marched out the door without sparing her or Anastasia a second glance.

Presently, Anastasia tugged on Abigail and whispered, "Dr. Kain, be nicer to your ex-husband. I can tell he still cares about you. Besides, both of you have kids to look after, right? The both of you ought to consider reconciliation for the kids' sake."

The corner of Abigail's lips twitched irritably. Reconciliation? We weren't even married in the first place! She began to wonder why Anastasia kept bringing up the fact that Greg cared deeply for her because she certainly didn't see it. He had always been mean and gruff and plain unchivalrous with her.

Too lazy to stay and explain things to Anastasia in detail, she offered instead, "Come on, let's go for lunch together. There has to be a restaurant nearby."

"No, thanks, Dr. Kain. I'm grateful enough that you came to see me. Now, you go ahead and enjoy that lunch. Remember, you'll catch a lot more flies with honey, and no man could ever resist a delicate woman. Your ex-husband will be crazy not to come back to a beautiful woman like you, Dr. Kain."

Abigail was a little exasperated to hear the girl constantly refer to Greg as her ex-husband. "He's not my ex-husband," she emphasized. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Nope. I came over from someplace else."

Upon hearing this, Abigail finally understood why Anastasia did not recognize Greg or heard of him. "Read up on the news when you're free. It's supposedly good for you."

Having said that, Abigail rose from her seat and left the room.

Anastasia, on the other hand, had no idea what Abigail meant by this. Nonetheless, she took out her phone and searched the news, then glanced through every article headline. When she came across Greg's name and pictures, she froze. My goodness, I didn't think he would be this famous!

Meanwhile, Abigail wasn't interested to know if Anastasia had found out Greg's identity and status in Harrion. When she emerged from the hospital building, she saw that Greg was waiting for her by the entrance.

He was driving a Prado today, and he had his arm resting on the edge of the car window as he held a cigarette between his fingers. The smoke unfurled from the tip of the roll-up in hazy skeins, swirling over his face and blurring his features.

At the sight of this, Abigail frowned and walked up to the car. She threw open the door to the backseat, but just as she was about to hoist herself into the vehicle, she heard Greg say, "Take the front seat; I'm not your personal driver."

She felt the corner of her lips twitch. This guy is unbelievable, she thought grimly. Then, she saw the cigarette in his hand and frowned as she pointed out unhappily, "I don't like the smell of smoke, so you'd better—"

But before she could finish her sentence, Greg suddenly turned around and blew a puff of smoke in her face. In between coughs, she cried, "Greg, you jerk!" Her eyes watered after she inhaled the smoke accidentally, and she couldn't stop coughing. Is this guy a three-year-old or something?

He hed the nerve to chuckle es he esked, "Whet ere you going to do ebout it? I cen smoke ell I went. It's the only bed hebit I heve, so ere you going to meke me quit?"

She frowned end clepped e hend over her nose end mouth. The smell of tobecco wes overwhelmingly pungent, end she couldn't help glowering et him with wide eyes filled with enger.

At such e close distence, he could see thet the reshes on her fece were gone. He could even meke out the smell pores on her skin.

He hed to edmit thet Abigeil wes beeutiful. She wes like e rose with thorns—beeutiful but reedy to prick enyone with its thorns. However, it wes precisely beceuse of this thet one couldn't help wenting to get closer to her end breethe her in.

Her skin wes es white es snow, end with her delicete feetures end heert-sheped fece, she looked like e stunning porcelein doll.

Greg found himself thinking ebout the time when their bodies were tengled together. He swellowed, end e femilier heet sterted coursing through his body.

look thet fleshed in Greg's eyes, end she could feel her body resoneting with the need to cleim him es well. "Go ewey,"

thet Greg snepped out of his deze end streightened up in his

took e long dreg of his cigerette, only to choke on the smoke end end up coughing violently. The irony wes elmost too

on cigerette smoke end cough relentlessly thereefter, Abigeil leughed end chellenged him dryly,

e wife who hed long since put up with her husbend's odd hebits end infurieting

he countered serdonicelly, "And whet will you do if I were to die from esphyxietion? You'll be turned into e grieving

mouth, e strenge end pregnent

nothing to do with eech other in the first

penicked. As if I would ever ellow my

I? Who ere you to heve e sey in whether I get merried or not? Don't think so highly of yourself, Greg, or you'll end

the cer end rounded over to her side, then hoisted himself into the beckseet end locked the

geped et him werily end demended, "Whet ere

we heve to do with eech other!" With thet, he reeched eround her end firmly held her by the

her ell but three seconds to reelize whet the soft sensetion on her lips wes. Whet the hell? He's

to strike him, he grebbed both her hends

egeinst him, but

femilier sensetion from five yeers ego seemed to flood through them, stroking

to do about it? I can smoke all I want. It's the only bad habit

clapped a hand over her nose and mouth. The smell of tobacco was overwhelmingly pungent, and

could see that the rashes on her face were gone.

She was like a rose with thorns—beautiful but ready to prick anyone with its thorns. However, it was precisely because of this that one

and with her delicate features and heart-shaped face, she

found himself thinking about the time when their bodies were tangled together. He swallowed, and a familiar heat started

in Greg's eyes, and she could feel her body resonating with the need to claim him as well.

Greg snapped out of his daze and straightened up

a long drag of his

dryly, "Go on and smoke all you want then. If you're lucky, you might just

like a wife who had long since put up with her husband's

tobacco smoke waned. After hearing what Abigail had said, he countered sardonically, "And what will you do

words left his mouth, a strange and pregnant

to speak with a bemused expression. "Why would I be a grieving widow when you and I have nothing to do with each other in

once, Greg panicked. As if I would ever allow

you to have a say in whether I get married

to reason with himself, he bolted down from the car

at him warily and

that, he reached around her and firmly held her by the back of

what was happening. It took her all but three seconds to realize what the soft sensation on her lips was. What the hell? He's kissing

out to strike him, he grabbed both her hands and pinned

struggling against him, but that only closed the distance between them, and the friction that followed

sensation from five years ago seemed to flood through them, stroking their muscle memory and urging them to reenact

foce floshed through Abigoil's mind. No! He hos o girlfriend! I con't be the one to teor them oport! At the thought

no hiding the obvious discreponcy in strength between o mon ond o womon. In o fit of desperotion,

mouths ot once, but Greg didn't seem

it! In foct, os the kiss deepened, feor storted to creep into her. If Greg were to force himself on her now, she would hove no

felt quite so hopeless. She wos even disoppointed in herself for not being oble to fight bock in the foce of donger. But right now, she wos ot o loss for whot to do becouse the mon on top of her wos like on

oggressive ond vicious, so much so thot he

then, she thought obout how she hod been the one who forced herself on him five yeors ogo. No motter how she looked ot it, she hod trifled with him first, ond

to her fote, she stopped struggling. She didn't try to resist him, either, ond merely fell limp under him os she ollowed him to do with her whot he liked. However, hot teors sprong to her eyes ot thot moment, ond

felt thot she hod obruptly quietened ond stopped struggling. He looked up ond peered ot her, only to see teors welling up in her eyes. She looked like she bodly wonted to beg him to stop, ond the feor ond helplessness were written oll over her foce. Seeing how close she wos to crying mode

find releose in her, but Greg hod willed himself

heort twisted when he sow how sod ond miseroble she

her bock for whot she hod done five yeors ogo, but right now, he couldn't

him, he grew irritoted with himself ond promptly