The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 92

Aveline

The backseat of Orion's car was spacious enough to seat four people comfortably, but I found myself curled into the corner like a wounded animal seeking shelter. My knees were drawn up to my chest, and I couldn't seem to stop my arms from wrapping protectively around myself, as if I was still expecting another attack.

The quiet luxury of the car—the soft leather seats, the gentle hum of the engine, the warm air from the heating system—should have been comforting. Instead, it felt almost too intimate, too close. Every time Orion glanced at me in the rearview mirror, I could feel the weight of his concern, and it made something in my chest flutter with emotions I wasn't ready to examine.

Those dark eyes kept finding mine in the mirror, checking on me with the kind of gentle worry I hadn't experienced since I was a child with Grandma Eleanor. The contrast between his expression now and the cold fury I'd seen when he'd burst through that door was startling.

No one except my grandmother had ever looked at me like I mattered that much.

I tried to straighten up, to show him I was recovering, and managed what I hoped was a reassuring smile. It felt fragile and artificial on my face, but it was the best I could manage.

"You know," Orion said softly, catching my eye in the mirror again, "your fake smile is actually more heartbreaking than if you just cried."

Heat flooded my cheeks. "I'm not crying," I said quickly, my voice a little too defensive. "I'm just... angry. Really, really angry."

"Of course you are," he agreed easily, and I caught the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're the strongest person I know. Absolutely terrifying in your resilience."

Despite everything, I felt my lips twitch upward in what might have been a genuine smile.

"We're coming up on the main intersection," Orion continued, his tone becoming more serious. "Should I take you home? To your family's place?"

The word "family" hit me like ice water. The memory of Vivian's triumphant smile, of her standing beside Dwayne while I sat tied to that chair, came flooding back with nauseating clarity.

"No!" The word came out sharper than I'd intended. "God, no. That whole thing tonight—it was my family who set me up. Vivian, and possibly my stepparents, all of them. They orchestrated this entire nightmare."

I felt fury building in my chest again, hot and righteous and infinitely preferable to the helpless terror I'd been fighting.

"If I go back there now, I'll probably end up strangling someone with my bare hands," I continued, my voice growing stronger with each word. "And I need to be smart about my revenge, not emotional."

When I looked up at the rearview mirror, I saw something that looked like pity flash across Orion's expression, quickly replaced by understanding.

"I figured it had to be something like that," he said quietly. "There's no way you would have willingly gone to dinner with Dwayne otherwise. You're too smart to walk into an obvious trap."

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentler.

"But Aveline... are those people really your family? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're living with a pack of wolves."

I let out a laugh that had no humor in it. "You think tonight was bad? Six years ago, they did something to me that makes this look like child's play."

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted opening old wounds in front of him. I watched Orion's hands tighten on the steering wheel, saw his jaw clench in the mirror.

"Six years ago?" he repeated, and there was something strange in his voice—surprise.

I could see him processing the timeline, could see questions forming behind his eyes. But then he seemed to catch himself, glancing back at me with obvious concern for my emotional state.

He wanted to ask more—I could see it in his expression—but he was holding back, probably worried that pushing me for details right now would send me over the edge.

The consideration in that restraint made my throat tight with unexpected emotion.

For the rest of the drive, we fell into a comfortable silence. I found myself watching his profile, the strong line of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed slightly as he concentrated on the road. There was something incredibly soothing about being in his protective sphere, knowing that this man was genuinely worried about my wellbeing.

For the first time in my adult life, I felt like someone was living partly for my sake. Like my pain actually mattered to another human being.

When we pulled up to his building, I was surprised to see Mitchell waiting by the entrance despite the late hour. The butler's face showed no curiosity about my disheveled appearance or the circumstances of my return—just quiet professionalism and what might have been relief.

"Master Ryan is sleeping peacefully," he reported softly as we approached. "Your room has been prepared, Miss Aveline. Fresh towels, a selection of comfortable clothes, and some chamomile tea on the nightstand. Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything at all."

"Thank you, Mitchell," Orion said, his voice warmer than I'd ever heard it when speaking to staff. "Get some rest. I'll handle anything that comes up tonight."

I was struck by the gentleness in his tone. It was such a departure from his usual brisk, businesslike interactions that I found myself staring at him in surprise.

Maybe tonight had affected him more than I'd realized. Maybe seeing me in that situation had shaken something loose in his carefully controlled exterior.

"Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss Aveline," Mitchell said with a small bow before disappearing into the building.

I made my way to the familiar guest room—my room, I supposed, since I'd been staying here more often than at my official residence lately. The space felt more welcoming than my actual bedroom at my family's apartment. The bed looked softer, the colors were warmer, and everything smelled like expensive fabric softener and safety.

I gathered a set of pajamas from the closet and headed for the bathroom, desperate to wash away every trace of the evening's horror. The hot water felt like heaven against my skin, and I stood under the spray until my fingers pruned and the last of the adrenaline finally drained from my system.

When I emerged from the bathroom in soft cotton pajamas, I expected to find the room empty and dark. Instead, I found Orion sitting on the edge of my bed, his expression thoughtful and concerned.

He'd changed out of his business clothes into dark jeans and a gray sweater, and his hair was slightly mussed, as if he'd been running his hands through it. He looked younger somehow, less intimidating than usual.

"Hi," he said softly, as if he was afraid of startling me.

"Hi," I replied, suddenly aware of how intimate this felt—him in my room, both of us in casual clothes, the rest of the house quiet around us.

"I just wanted to make sure you were really okay," he said, his voice slightly uncertain as he ran a hand through his hair again. "If you don't want me to stay, I can—"

"No," I interrupted quickly, the word escaping before I could think about it. "Stay."