His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 177

Those two sentences.

They hit him like a bucket of ice water dumped straight over his head.

Archer froze completely.

The hand locked tight around her waist went rigid for a split second before slowly, agonizingly pulling away.

He pushed off the wall and stood up straight, staring down at her with eyes as dark and fathomless as an abyss.

Virginia pulled the collar of her dress together and turned her face away, refusing to look at him.

Neither of them spoke.

Archer remained silent for so long that just as Virginia thought he was finally going to say something, he took a half-step back.

"I apologize. I'm going to take a shower."

His voice had completely reverted to its usual cool detachment. If not for the faint, lingering huskiness at the end of his sentence, she would have assumed the heated exchange between them was entirely her imagination.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and the sound of running water quickly filled the room.

Her legs trembling, Virginia walked over to the sofa and collapsed onto it, burying her face in her hands.

Her palms were burning, her cheeks were burning—but her heart felt like it had been plunged into freezing water.

She knew exactly what his situation was, but just a moment ago... if he had let go even one second later, she truly might have surrendered to the temptation.

She couldn't let herself think about it anymore.

She rubbed her face fiercely, forcibly extinguishing every single chaotic thought in her mind, secretly thankful she had snapped back to her senses when she did.

...

When Archer finally stepped out, he had changed into dark gray loungewear. His hair was still damp, a few wet strands falling across his forehead.

He walked over to the window and stood there without glancing in her direction.

The two of them sat three feet apart, locked in their own respective silences.

Suddenly, the phone on the coffee table began to vibrate. It was Archer's.

Virginia saw the caller ID first: Chloe.

Archer walked over and saw it too.

He frowned, making no move to pick it up.

The phone just kept ringing, relentlessly demanding his attention.

He ended the call, turned around, and slid the glass door open.

The sofa was empty.

Her coat was gone...

Archer stood completely still, his fingers tightening around his phone until his knuckles turned white.

...

The news that flights were resuming didn't exactly come as a surprise.

Virginia received the notification while packing her suitcase. She had already decided that if the flights were still grounded, she would switch to a different hotel. Under no circumstances could she keep living like this with Archer.

If she did, someone was eventually going to cross a line they couldn't uncross.

Archer had been standing by the window of his own room, on the phone. Speaking in fluent English at a calm, deliberate pace, he instructed his assistant to book two tickets back to the United States.

It was a first-class flight back home, and they were seated in the exact same arrangement as before.

The only difference was that this time, Virginia took the window seat, while Archer sat on the aisle.

For the entire fourteen-hour flight, he worked tirelessly on his documents, occasionally pausing to take a sip of coffee. Bathed in the warm cabin lighting, his sharp profile looked exceptionally severe and unapproachable.