Playing Fire with My Ice-King BOSS: V-Card for One Night, Ring Forever - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Isabelle's POV
Conrad stared at me with bloodshot eyes, slowly wiping the spit off his face like he didn't have a care in the world.
That's when he spotted my phone—the call had just connected before he snatched it away from me.
"Give it back! Conrad!" I was completely immobilized, screaming myself hoarse.
"Still think your knight in shining armor is coming to save you? Ha! Once he finds out you're knocked up with his kid, he'll be looking for the nearest abortion clinic!"
He sneered, ended the call, and threw my phone across the room.
"He's not like that! Not everyone's a selfish piece of shit like you!"
"Everything I do is for you, Belly! I fucking love you! You have no idea how much!" His alcohol-soaked breath was making me nauseous.
"Conrad, I know you love me. Just let me go and we can work this out..."
I was practically begging now, terrified of pushing him over the edge.
But his eyes were completely wild, bloodshot and beyond any rational thought.
He leaned over me with this predatory look, and without any warning, ripped what was left of my already torn shirt clean off my body.
The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the apartment.
I felt utterly exposed and vulnerable, angry red marks immediately appearing on my bare shoulders from his brutal handling.
"Conrad! You've completely lost your fucking mind!"
"Yes! I'm out of my goddamn mind for you!" he roared like a wild animal.
That's when violent pounding erupted from my front door—someone was trying to break it down.
"Help me! Somebody help—mmph!"
Conrad's massive hand clamped down over my mouth and nose with crushing force.
I couldn't breathe. Black spots started dancing in my vision. I was going to pass out, maybe die.
"Shut the fuck up!"
His grip was so tight I thought he might break my nose. My face felt like it was being crushed, my entire world narrowing down to the desperate need for oxygen.
Everything was going dark...
Then suddenly, like a miracle, the suffocating weight disappeared and fresh air rushed into my lungs.
"Oh god... oh god..." I gasped, gulping down air like I'd been drowning.
Conrad had been violently dragged off me and thrown to the floor. The sickening sound of fists connecting with flesh filled the apartment, followed by agonized screaming.
Thud. Crack. Thud.
When I finally managed to sit up on the couch, my vision clearing, I saw Jeremiah standing in the middle of my destroyed living room.
He looked absolutely terrifying—eyes wild with rage, blood splattered across his frameless glasses and soaking through his white dress shirt. His knuckles were split and bleeding.
He was methodically wiping blood off his hands with a tissue like he was cleaning up after a board meeting.
"Jesus Christ..." Conrad was curled up on the floor, whimpering and bleeding all over my carpet.
The metallic smell of blood was overwhelming, making my already queasy stomach lurch.
"Jeremiah?" I whispered, barely believing he was real.
This wasn't some fever dream—he was actually here.
"Yeah." He glanced at me briefly, his expression softening just a fraction.
Relief hit me so hard that tears started pouring down my face all over again.
Gordon came crashing through what used to be my front door, his footsteps echoing on the splintered wood.
"Call 911. Ambulance too. And someone needs to notify the Fisher family," Jeremiah ordered, his voice deadly calm.
"On it..."
Gordon's hands were shaking as he pulled out his phone, his face pale as a sheet.
Jeremiah let out the faintest sigh, picked up his suit jacket from where it had been thrown on the couch, and walked toward me.
He knelt on one knee beside me, those intense dark eyes boring into mine as he roughly wrapped the jacket around my nearly naked body and pulled me against his chest.
"Last chance, Belly. Are you coming with me or not?"
His hands gripped the jacket collar, essentially trapping me in his arms.
His tone was so final, so absolute, that I knew if I said no, he'd walk out of my life forever.
"Yes."
The word came out broken and desperate, but completely certain.
Jeremiah's Adam's apple bobbed like he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard.
"You're sure about this?"
Instead of answering with words, I pushed myself up on my knees, closed my tear-filled eyes, and pressed my trembling lips against his blood-stained mouth.
The kiss was brief but electric, tasting of copper and desperation and something that felt like salvation.
When we broke apart, Jeremiah's eyes had gone completely dark. He reached up to gently wipe the tears from my cheeks before pulling me fully into his arms.
The police arrived within minutes, and somehow the questioning went smoothly despite the chaos.
The paramedics loaded Conrad onto a stretcher—he was conscious but looked like he'd been hit by a truck.
"I'm taking her home. Handle getting her stuff moved," Jeremiah told Gordon, effortlessly lifting me in his arms like I weighed nothing.
"Got it, boss."
I buried my face against his neck, breathing in that familiar sandalwood scent as he carried me out of my destroyed apartment, into his car, and all the way into his house without setting me down once.
We didn't stop until we reached his master bathroom.
"I can take it from here," I said, my voice still shaky.
The enormous bathroom suddenly felt claustrophobic, making my anxiety spike all over again.
"I'll grab you some clothes. Just wear whatever I bring for now." Jeremiah carefully avoided looking at my barely-covered body as he headed for the door.
I let out a trembling breath and caught sight of myself in the massive mirror—I looked like I'd been through a war zone.
I clutched his jacket tighter, then impulsively brought it to my lips and whispered, "Thank you."
Knock knock.
I cracked the door open to see a strong, veined hand holding a black dress shirt, with a pair of slippers dropped on the marble floor.
"Thanks."
"Call me if you need anything."
"Okay."
I spent way too long in that shower, letting the hot water wash away Conrad's touch and the lingering terror. When I finally emerged, I pulled my damp hair forward over my chest—since I wasn't wearing a bra underneath his shirt, I needed the coverage.
Basically, I was completely naked under his clothes.
I took a shaky breath and walked out into his bedroom.
The room was empty. I wandered through his study and walk-in closet—both bigger than my entire apartment—before ending up back in the bedroom where we'd spent that first night together.
My hands were clenched into fists, anxiety and traumatic flashbacks hitting me in waves.
I heard movement outside and quickly dove under the covers.
Knock knock knock.
"Come in," I called out, trying to sound normal.
Jeremiah entered pulling my beat-up suitcase behind him—apparently Gordon had worked fast.
"Got everything from your place. I called you in sick tomorrow—take the day to recover before going back to work. Get changed first, then let me know so I can treat those cuts."
"Okay."
He'd obviously showered and changed into black loungewear at some point. His knuckles were bandaged now.
His tone was still ice-cold and professional. He didn't even glance in my direction before walking out and quietly closing the door.
I stared after him in amazement.
The restraint this man had was incredible. If I ever did fall for him—really fall for him—he'd be the kind of partner dreams were made of.
I opened my suitcase and immediately realized a problem. All my sleepwear was pretty revealing since I lived alone—barely-there tank tops and shorts that would be completely inappropriate right now.
So I just put on underwear under his oversized shirt and called him back in.
Jeremiah returned with a professional first aid kit, setting it on the bed with military precision.
I hadn't even realized until now that my hands and wrists were covered in scrapes and bruises from fighting Conrad off.
His touch was impossibly gentle as he carefully cleaned and treated each wound.
"How did you get to my place so fast?" I asked, watching him work.
"We followed you home from the hospital. After you went upstairs, we were about to leave when we saw Conrad stumbling into your building. I had a bad feeling, so we came back. That's when your call came through."
"You guys followed me?"
"Yeah."
"Thank god you did..." My voice cracked with emotion.
Jeremiah's ears turned red, but he kept working.
"Sorry about destroying another door."
"Ha..." I let out a weak laugh. "That's the second one. My security deposit is completely fucked."
"Your face now." He set my hand down gently and picked up a fresh cotton swab.
I swallowed nervously, suddenly hyperaware of how close we were.
Jeremiah's expression remained carefully neutral as he tilted my chin up, dabbing ointment on the bruises Conrad had left.
His breath was warm against my skin, mixing with mine in the small space between us. The atmosphere became charged with something I couldn't name.
I could hear both our heartbeats as I realized this was the closest I'd ever been to his face when I was fully conscious.
He was absolutely perfect—sharp cheekbones, those incredible dark eyes, a straight nose, lips that looked like they'd been carved by an artist...
God, I wanted to kiss him again.
The thought made me flush bright red, and I quickly looked down.
"Am I hurting you?" Even his gentle words came out cold and clinical.
"No, not at all..."
Jeremiah noticed my burning cheeks and averted his gaze.
"Turn the other way."
I quickly presented my other cheek, closing my eyes to avoid any more inappropriate thoughts about my rescuer.
Through my closed lids, I caught the hint of a smile on Jeremiah's face as he took in my completely flustered state.
After finishing with the medicine, he packed everything away with efficient movements.
"You haven't eaten anything today. I had Le Jardin deliver dinner. Come downstairs when you're ready."
"That sounds perfect."
"I'll be in the kitchen."
Jeremiah left first, giving me space to process everything that had happened.
I sat on his massive bed, wearing his clothes, in his house, and realized my entire life had just completely changed.