Quentin knew he had caused enough trouble. He understood that he needed to let Amanda speak with Jasper privately; if he pushed any further and made her truly furious, he would be the one in trouble.
After breakfast, he very consciously ushered a reluctant Derrick out of the room and sent Winter home.
Amanda's eyes softened with a smile as she watched him leave. Despite his occasional jealousy, he was a man of deep nuance, and she found herself falling for him all over again.
Once they were alone, Amanda walked over and sat beside the bed. She looked calmly at Jasper, who still appeared thoroughly irritated.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
Jasper glanced at her and grunted, "Not dead yet."
Amanda gently adjusted the bed, lowering it slightly. When Derrick had fed him earlier, he had raised the head of the bed too high, likely putting pressure on the incision. She pursed her lips, watching Jasper. Even though he was sweating profusely from the surgical wound, his mouth remained as stubborn as ever.
Jasper, annoyed by her look of pity—as if she were looking at a difficult child—glared back at her. "What are you looking at? Do you want me to gouge your eyes out?"
The lingering guilt in Amanda's heart evaporated at his spiteful words. She reached out, poked him sharply in the forehead, and scolded him. "You have the nerve to act like a jerk? You need help just to go to the bathroom right now, yet you're still acting aggressive."
Jasper reflexively reached out to swat her hand away, but the movement jarred his wound. He gritted his teeth and let out a strangled cry. "If I had ten lives right now, I still wouldn't block another knife for you! Oh, it hurts!"
Panicked by his genuine pain, Amanda hovered over him. "Are you okay? I'll go call the doctor!"
She started to stand, but Jasper's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist tightly. She froze, startled.
"Just kidding," he whispered, his grip lingering on her small wrist. "I'm fine."
After a long moment, Jasper reluctantly let go. Amanda sat back down, and a heavy, mutual silence settled between them.
"Thank you, Jasper," Amanda said softly after a while. She looked up and offered him a sincere smile.
Jasper's lips curled into a faint, weary smile. "Why thank me? I'm just thanking heaven and earth that you weren't the one who got hurt."
Amanda bit her lip, looking conflicted and hesitant. "Jasper, I..."
Jasper raised a hand, pressing a finger to her lips to stop the words he didn't want to hear. Facing her expressive eyes, he could only offer a bitter smile. "Don't say it, Amanda."
Amanda's breath hitched; tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. She truly cared for Jasper. He had a sharp tongue but a golden heart; he teased her constantly, but he always had her back. She saw him as a dear friend—a brother—and it pained her to realize the depth of his feelings. She felt no pride in his unrequited love, only the heavy burden of being unable to return it.
Seeing her on the verge of tears, Jasper sighed softly. He didn't tell her not to cry this time, knowing these might be the last tears she ever shed for him in this way.
"Amanda, can we still be friends? Like before?"
Amanda clenched her teeth, wiped her eyes, and nodded vigorously. "Of course."
Jasper smiled gently and reached out, timidly wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "I want to be your best friend. Closer than Celia, okay?"
Amanda burst into a mix of a laugh and a sob, nodding through her tears. "Okay, but you'll have to fight Cece for that title yourself."
"She won't fight me back," he joked.
Amanda laughed so hard she forgot her sadness. Jasper withdrew his hand, looking at her bright smile with a trace of lingering longing. This was the only way he could stay by her side—to accompany her without making her feel guilty or awkward. His first love would simply fade over the years, arriving quietly and departing in silence.
Outside the door, Quentin fiddled with an unlit cigarette. Hearing Amanda's laughter, the corners of his mouth curled. Derrick had been right: Jasper had a hot temper, but he was deeply emotional. He wouldn't hurt Amanda.
Quentin had been eavesdropping out of worry—worry that Jasper couldn't let go, or that Amanda's guilt would cause her to waver. Fortunately, his fears were unfounded.
Inside the room, Amanda composed herself and stood up. "You should rest and recover. I'll visit you again tomorrow."
Jasper, looking exhausted, squinted his eyes. "My family has a nanny for that. It's not your turn to worry. Get back to your film crew."
Amanda's lips twitched. The moment the heavy conversation was over, he had returned to his true nature. "I know, I know. Stop nagging."
Jasper lazily waved a hand, dismissing her. "If you know, then go home. I'm sleepy."
Amanda opened her mouth to retort, but seeing him already closing his eyes, she gritted her teeth and turned to leave. "Damn guy," she muttered under her breath. "Why didn't Elena stab you one more time?"
Only when the door clicked shut did Jasper allow a faint smile to touch his lips.
Outside, Amanda found Quentin waiting. She was surprised. "You're still here?"
Quentin put away his cigarette and grabbed her hand, pulling her close. "I was afraid someone might steal my wife, so I didn't dare go too far."
Amanda laughed, hugging his arm as they walked. "Your wife isn't that easy to steal, President Harris."
"Is that so? My wife is so pretty, I can't help but worry."
The two laughed and talked all the way home, making up for the half-month they had spent apart. When they returned to the villa, Amanda learned that Butler Wayne had returned to the Harris family's main estate. Being home after so long felt wonderful; after a shower, she collapsed onto the bed, unwilling to move.
Quentin, fresh from his own shower, walked over and gave her a playful swat on the rear, making her yelp.
"Ouch!"
He laughed and pulled her into his arms. "So, going to military camp to learn how to handle a gun made you lose weight?"
Amanda climbed onto his lap, resting her head against his chest. "How did you know I was at a military camp? I thought I hid it well."
Quentin pinched her nose. "Don't forget who the big boss of Star Entertainment is."
Realizing she couldn't hide anything from him, Amanda pouted. "Who says I was only practicing with a gun? I learned other things too!"
Quentin narrowed his eyes and shifted her position. "Have you learned a lot? Tell me, have you remembered the 'positions' I taught you before? Let's review the lesson."
Before she could protest, his hands were already skillfully sliding the nightgown from her shoulders. Amanda's eyes widened. "You're being unreasonable!"
His kisses fell against her neck and chest as he smiled. "What need is there for reason in bed, wife?"
Amanda's body went limp against him, her eyes turning watery and soft. Determined not to be the only one vulnerable, she leaned forward and bit lightly at his throat.
Quentin's eyes darkened. He caught his breath, turned her around so her back was to him, and pulled her flush against his chest. He whispered into her ear, his voice low and husky.
"Wife, you've starved me for so long. I tease you a little and you're already counterattacking?"
Feeling his hands move over her, Amanda's breath became heavy. "Who told you to be so rude?"
She heard his low laughter behind her, followed by a sudden, deep penetration.
"Ugh..."
"You haven't seen me truly being 'rude' yet," Quentin whispered, his grip tightening on her waist as he buried himself within her.
He made sure she wouldn't even want to think about getting up for breakfast the next day.