The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet

Thalassa quickly stepped back, evading Lysander's reach, her words tumbling out in a rush, "Lysander, what are you doing?"

Her gaze flitted around, unable to meet Lysander's eyes directly.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

Even though she had just confessed her feelings to Lysander that day, it had been a while since they last saw each other. There was a certain unfamiliarity between them, making his sudden intimate gesture somewhat uncomfortable for Thalassa.

Lysander opened and closed his hand, as if trying to hold onto the warmth from Thalassa's waist, the softness of her touch lingering in his palm. He silently retracted his hand, his eyes locked on Thalassa, "I was just helping you up; no need to bend over."

He explained why he had tried to wrap his arms around her waist.

Thalassa understood his intention and blinked, asking, "Aren't you going to rest?"

"I can manage on my own." With that, Lysander propped himself up with his hands on the bed, pushing himself up to sit on it.

Thalassa was taken aback. Then, she watched as Lysander maneuvered his legs onto the bed. He settled back against the headboard, pulled the covers over himself, and glanced at her, "Come on, get some rest too."

"I..." Thalassa hesitated.

"What, was everything you said at the wedding just a lie?" Lysander interrupted before she could finish, his voice tinged with skepticism.

His intense gaze unnerved Thalassa, and she quickly replied, "Of course not, I wasn't lying."

"Then come here." It was a simple command from Lysander, as imperious and stoic as he'd always been.

After a moment's pause, Thalassa slipped off her shoes and climbed onto the bed. Because Lysander was sitting at the edge, she had to move towards the inside. She was extremely cautious, afraid of accidentally touching him.

But the more careful she was, the more prone to mistakes she became. As she attempted to scoot further in, her hand slipped, and her leg landed heavily on Lysander's, not only pressing down on him but also causing a sharp pain.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to. Did

that hurt? Let me rub it for you," Thalassa apologized frantically, ет moving to the other side of the bed. She lifted the covers and began massaging Lysander's leg, asking, "Did I press down here?"

Lysander watched her, his face expressionless, and remained silent regardless of how she pressed.

Thinking she hadn't found the right spot, Thalassa continued to search, "Is it here?"

She looked up for confirmation.

"Stop wasting your effort," Lysander suddenly said.

Thalassa's hands froze before slowly lifting her head to meet his gaze, but Lysander averted his eyes.

Even though his face was impassive and he said nothing, Thalassa understood the emotion behind his words and what he meant by telling her not to waste her effort.

Remembering Lydia's words,

Thalassa felt a sudden pang of discomfort, but didn't remove her hands. Instead, she kept massaging his leg, smiling, "How can this be a waste of effort? The doctor said rehabilitation is crucial for recovery."

As Thalassa was getting into her stride, Lysander suddenly gripped her wrist, pulling her towards him. His face, stoic and solemn, was now inches from hers, his breath warm on her skin as he said, "These legs will never recover. Do you regret what you said at the wedding now?"

The pressure on Thalassa's wrist was intense, causing her pain. She winced and looked into his eyes, which were filled with a deep, anxious turmoil.