Undressed By His Arrogance-Chapter 250: The Man Saved My Life

She closed her eyes.

He closed his fists.

"Ivy..." Winn whispered.

"Eugene! I can’t do that to him! The man saved my life!" she blurted out. "HE saved my life by almost losing his."

Winn looked physically pained. His shoulders tightened, and his chest rose in a strained breath as if her words had struck him where he was already bruised. "Did you cum?"

"Excuse me?" she snapped, incredulous.

"Just now, did you cum?"

"Wh... no!" Ivy admitted grudgingly. Her face flushed. "Sucks by myself."

The honesty slipped out before she could stop it. That was the problem with Winn—he made her say things she didn’t mean to, dragged confessions from her without lifting a finger.

"Babe... let me help you."

"You are not listening," Ivy snapped.

"I am. I won’t fuck you." Winn promised.

"Doesn’t matter," she whispered.

Winn frowned. "Why is this such an issue now? We fucked once before since you came back and you were with Eugene!"

"I wasn’t with him then." Ivy admitted.

"What?"

"I lied."

"To keep me away," he said immediately, quietly. Understanding washing over his face. "I get it."

He nodded once. "I understand. I’ll leave you to it then."

He turned toward the door, movements stiff, controlled, as if holding himself together by threads. His hand gripped the handle. He hesitated. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something else—one last plea, one last truth—but then he closed it, jaw snapping shut in restraint. Whatever words he swallowed stayed buried behind his eyes.

He pulled the door open and stepped out into the corridor.

He shouldn’t have come to Amsterdam, he realized. The temptation was too great.

*****

The rest of the time in Amsterdam, Ivy spent it sightseeing with Marissa—who, unlike Ivy, was absolutely determined to extract every drop of joy and chaos the city had to offer. They explored the canals, wandered across narrow bridges where flowers spilled from planters, and sampled pastries that melted on their tongues. Marissa insisted on taking a photo of Ivy on every beautiful corner, every interesting brick wall, every canal railing. "For memories," she said.

She checked in frequently with Eugene, who was now barely needing the cane. His video calls were always warm and bright, his face lit by pride whenever she told him about the places she’d seen. He was recovering fast—miraculously fast—and that guilt Ivy carried sat a little lighter on her shoulders each time she saw him walk without wincing.

He would be on video calls while they toured the city. Sometimes he teased Marissa for her over-enthusiastic commentary. Ivy loved those moments—they grounded her, soothed her... reminded her why she had chosen him.

She told him about the party at Bernard’s that Saturday and how she’d be heading home once it was done.

He joked about her not abandoning him for some Dutch prince. She didn’t tell him that the man she needed distance from—the man she was avoiding was no prince. He was a storm with a heartbeat.

She had the best time. It was her first time away from the country, and Amsterdam felt surreal. She loved the cobblestone streets, the art shops that tempted her into buying things she knew she didn’t need.

Winn had kept his promise.

He had given her breathing space, and she pretended she loved it.

She hadn’t run into him at all, but the dread—or anticipation—lingering at the back of her mind never left. Because Bernard’s party was coming. And Winn was her plus one.

Being together again was unavoidable.

Inevitable.

Uncomfortably fated.

She had gone shopping earlier that afternoon because she realized that she hadn’t packed anything suitable for high-end European socializing. Amsterdam boutiques had saved her.

Back at the hotel, she curled her hair, applied her makeup slowly, breathing through the nerves she absolutely refused to name.

By 8:15 p.m., a knock finally came at her door.

She double checked her reflection in the mirror.

She sucked in a breath, smoothed her dress, and walked to the door.

Her hand hovered on the handle for a moment as her heart pounded against her ribs.

Then she opened it.

Winn was standing there in a navy-blue suit—hugging his shoulders as if the fabric had been seduced into obeying him.

"Hi. You ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

He opened his mouth, and she felt the compliment perched on his tongue. He wanted to say it—she saw it in his eyes. You look beautiful. But he swallowed it down. He was playing it safe. Playing it cool. Playing it smart because he’d already pushed the limits.

His balls, apparently, couldn’t get any bluer.

"Come on," he said instead, offering his arm. His elbow bent just enough for her hand.

She hesitated only a second before placing her hand there. His warmth bled through the sleeve of his suit. Her pulse did a little somersault.

They walked through the hotel corridors, down the elevators, and out into the crisp evening air where a car waited.

The drive took them into a lush neighborhood—quiet, old, wealthy in a dignified European way.

When the car turned and rolled up to Bernard’s estate, it wasn’t what they expected. The house was huge, yes—grand gates, sprawling gardens, and windows tall enough to make a cathedral jealous—but the architecture was restrained, elegant, traditional. A serene kind of wealth.

"I thought he would be living in a castle," Winn murmured, leaning closer so only she could hear him. His breath tickled her ear, a stupid, traitorous shiver running down her spine.

"Maybe he keeps the castle for weekends," Ivy whispered back dryly, and Winn huffed a quiet laugh.

They were ushered inside and led toward a section of the house that opened into a ballroom.

Guests drifted around with drinks, soft chatter filling the air.

They were welcomed in, offered drinks. Winn accepted a whiskey; Ivy took a glass of sparkling water. They introduced themselves to those who didn’t already know them—which turned out to be a lot fewer than Ivy had expected. The Kane Mall project had made waves even across the ocean.