Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 53: Chapter 53
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 53: Chapter 53. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Sir Whitmore waved her off. "No need—I'm still sturdy as an ox!"
Frustration darkened Annabelle's face to an ugly shade, yet she could only glare at Elena from the shadows.
Victor finished a beef skewer and offered it to Elena.
She shook her head. "I can't eat meat or fish," Elena said softly.
Victor Whitmore frowned. "Elena Bennett, I went out of my way to grill this for you—don't push your luck."
Sir Whitmore cuffed him. "You rascal! Watch your mouth. Ellie, tell Grandpa what's wrong."
Elena lowered her lashes. "At the prison, they forced me to drink swill. It ruined my stomach; now a single bite of meat sends it into spasms."
Sir Whitmore's jaw dropped. "Swill? They forced you?"
Elena merely nodded, voice and face unnervingly calm.
Tears reddened the old man's eyes. "Ellie..."
Victor stared, scarcely able to believe it.
Swill—how could anyone be made to swallow that?
Heart aching, Sir Whitmore stamped on Victor's foot.
Victor winced and glanced at his grandfather, puzzled.
The old man shot him a meaningful look.
Understanding dawned, yet words stuck in Victor's throat. After a moment he withdrew the beef. "I'll grill you some corn instead."
Sir Whitmore stamped the ground in exasperation.
What a perfect opening—wasted by that blockhead...
From then on Victor tended the grill for vegetarian dishes only.
When the corn was ready, he held the skewer out to her. Elena flicked a glance toward Annabelle.
She leaned forward and bit directly from his hand, her lips brushing his fingers.
Victor's gaze quivered; he couldn't look away.
Elena blinked innocently. "What is it, President Whitmore? Is something on my face?"
Turning aside, Victor lifted the corn. "Nothing. Do you want another bite?"
Annabelle's eyes reddened with fury; with Sir Whitmore present she could only stew.
"Thank you, President Whitmore." Elena accepted the skewer and smiled.
Annabelle was at the breaking point; another second of this would drive her mad.
She pretended to twist her ankle. "Ouch... Victor, I think I sprained my foot. Can you take me inside?"
Without hesitation Victor tossed the food onto the grill, scooped her up, and strode toward the house.
Sir Whitmore watched them go, brow furrowed deep.
Inside the guest room, Victor sprayed medicine on her ankle. "Get some rest. I'm going back to keep Grandpa company."
"Victor!" Annabelle clutched his arm. "Don't leave me alone. I'm scared."
"I'll ask someone else to stay with you," he said.
Annabelle wrapped her arms around his waist. "I don't want anyone else—just you. My foot still hurts; could you massage it for me?"
Victor hesitated, then knelt to rub her foot.
Annabelle's smile blossomed as desire stirred inside her.
Sir Whitmore had always stood between her and Victor—a formidable obstacle.
Since the birthday party might not sway the old man, better to turn possibility into certainty.
Frustration darkened Annabelle's face to an ugly shade, yet she could only glare at Elena from the shadows.
Victor finished a beef skewer and offered it to Elena.
She shook her head. "I can't eat meat or fish," Elena said softly.
Victor Whitmore frowned. "Elena Bennett, I went out of my way to grill this for you—don't push your luck."
Sir Whitmore cuffed him. "You rascal! Watch your mouth. Ellie, tell Grandpa what's wrong."
Elena lowered her lashes. "At the prison, they forced me to drink swill. It ruined my stomach; now a single bite of meat sends it into spasms."
Sir Whitmore's jaw dropped. "Swill? They forced you?"
Elena merely nodded, voice and face unnervingly calm.
Tears reddened the old man's eyes. "Ellie..."
Victor stared, scarcely able to believe it.
Swill—how could anyone be made to swallow that?
Heart aching, Sir Whitmore stamped on Victor's foot.
Victor winced and glanced at his grandfather, puzzled.
The old man shot him a meaningful look.
Understanding dawned, yet words stuck in Victor's throat. After a moment he withdrew the beef. "I'll grill you some corn instead."
Sir Whitmore stamped the ground in exasperation.
What a perfect opening—wasted by that blockhead...
From then on Victor tended the grill for vegetarian dishes only.
When the corn was ready, he held the skewer out to her. Elena flicked a glance toward Annabelle.
She leaned forward and bit directly from his hand, her lips brushing his fingers.
Victor's gaze quivered; he couldn't look away.
Elena blinked innocently. "What is it, President Whitmore? Is something on my face?"
Turning aside, Victor lifted the corn. "Nothing. Do you want another bite?"
Annabelle's eyes reddened with fury; with Sir Whitmore present she could only stew.
"Thank you, President Whitmore." Elena accepted the skewer and smiled.
Annabelle was at the breaking point; another second of this would drive her mad.
She pretended to twist her ankle. "Ouch... Victor, I think I sprained my foot. Can you take me inside?"
Without hesitation Victor tossed the food onto the grill, scooped her up, and strode toward the house.
Sir Whitmore watched them go, brow furrowed deep.
Inside the guest room, Victor sprayed medicine on her ankle. "Get some rest. I'm going back to keep Grandpa company."
"Victor!" Annabelle clutched his arm. "Don't leave me alone. I'm scared."
"I'll ask someone else to stay with you," he said.
Annabelle wrapped her arms around his waist. "I don't want anyone else—just you. My foot still hurts; could you massage it for me?"
Victor hesitated, then knelt to rub her foot.
Annabelle's smile blossomed as desire stirred inside her.
Sir Whitmore had always stood between her and Victor—a formidable obstacle.
Since the birthday party might not sway the old man, better to turn possibility into certainty.
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 53. Continue reading Chapter 54 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.