?Chapter 1113:


    Before either could dwell on the moment, the car rolled to a stop outside their home.


    Norton swung the door open and stepped out, his polished shoes glinting under the streetlight. He turned, extending a hand to Yvonne, his expression softening just a fraction.


    She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her stiletto heels, the source of the dull ache throbbing through her feet.


    Hours of standing had taken their toll, and each step felt like a betrayal of her resolve. With a quiet sigh, she epted his hand and eased out of the car, her movements stiff.


    He tugged her forward, his grip firm but not unkind.


    Her pacegged, each step a cautious negotiation with the pavement. Norton nced back, his brow furrowing as he noticed her faltering stride. “Something wrong?” he asked, his toneced with concern he tried to mask.


    Yvonne forced a smile, small and unconvincing. “Nothing,” she said, shaking her head.


    Weakness was not something she cared to admit.


    Norton’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. He studied her, his gaze sharp, catching the slight wince she could not hide as her heel caught the edge of a cobblestone.


    Realization dawned, swift and certain. Without a word, he bent, scooping her into his arms with an ease that made her breath catch.


    Her hands instinctively looped around his neck, anchoring herself as he strode toward the house. “Why are you carrying me again?” Yvonne asked, her voice a mix of amusement and exasperation.


    Norton’s eyes flicked to her heels, his lips twitching into a faint frown.


    “You should ditch those shoes,” he said.


    “Do not wear heels that high when I am not around to carry you.” A soft “okay” was all she managed, her cheek brushing against his shoulder as she settled into his hold.


    Silence wrapped around them as he carried her through the threshold of their home. He bypassed the living room’s plush couches, his steps purposeful, heading straight for the bedroom.


    With a nudge of his foot, he pushed the door open, the wood creaking softly. He set Yvonne down on the edge of the bed, her silk dress pooling around her thighs.


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    Kneeling before her, he reached for one of her heels, his fingers deft as he slipped it off.


    “You never listen,” he muttered, but the words carried no real bite, only a quiet fondness.


    “Does your ankle hurt?” he asked, his hands already moving, gently kneading her foot. His touch was careful, practiced, easing the tension from her muscles.


    “Thank you.” Yvonne’s lips parted, her voice barely audible.


    Norton chuckled, the sound low and warm.


    “Do you really need to thank me for this?” His hands drifted upward, tracing the curve of her calf with a deliberate slowness that sent a shiver through her.


    Her pulse quickened. Something in his gaze felt dangerous, thrilling. She tried to pull her leg back, but Norton’s hand caught hers, his grip gentle yet unyielding.


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