After Betrayal - I Married a Handsome Tycoon-Chapter 105: Unusually Docile

The name ’Moira’ made Moira Sloan feel sick to her stomach.

For the first time in her thirty years, she began to doubt the appeal of her own name.

A second later, Moira Sloan blocked Rachel Yates.

She deliberately didn’t reply.

Leave her hanging.

She wanted Rachel to spend the night feeling anxious and unable to sleep soundly.

It was already after midnight when Connor Quinn returned.

Moira, however, was still awake, sitting cross-legged on the sofa and playing a video game.

Hearing the door, Moira glanced up.

She saw Connor Quinn walk in with his tattoo kit. The memory of what he’d done for her last night stirred a complex mix of feelings, but she put on a casual front. "Just getting done?"

Connor looked back at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "Yeah."

Seeing his expression, Moira raised an eyebrow.

’What’s with that look?’

’Is he disgusted with me?’

The image of him helping her change her underwear and sanitary pad the night before flashed through her mind, and she thought she’d found the reason for his expression.

Her lips twitched as she was about to say something, but before she could, Connor put down his things, strode over, and scooped her up into his arms.

Moira gasped.

Connor’s voice was stern. "Don’t stay up late when you’re on your period. Go to bed."

It clicked for Moira, and she let out a petulant huff.

’So he wasn’t disgusted with me. He was just mad I was staying up late.’

’Hmph.’

’Such a mother hen.’

A moment later, Connor placed her on the bed. Despite the warm weather, she was tucked under the covers, sitting up against the headboard as if she were in postpartum confinement. She looked up at him. "What was the tattoo today? You were gone forever."

Connor lied without batting an eye. "Lord Grant."

Moira tilted her chin up slightly. "That one *is* complicated."

Connor said, "Yeah."

Moira asked casually, "Did you take a picture? I want to see."

She’d never seen anyone get a tattoo like that and was rather curious.

Lord Grant is a martial god of wealth. ’The client must be a businessman,’ Moira thought.

"I didn’t," Connor said, his expression unchanged.

Seeing her visible disappointment, he quickly added, "It’ll need a touch-up in two or three months. If you still want to see it then, I’ll take a picture for you."

Her eyes lit up instantly. "Okay!"

They chatted idly for a bit before Connor suddenly turned and left the room.

When he returned, he was holding a heating patch. He strode to the bed, leaned over, lifted the blanket, and stuck the patch onto the outside of her pajamas.

Moira was speechless.

Connor was hunched over, carefully applying the patch, his neat buzz cut bobbing in Moira’s line of sight. "I asked a doctor, and they said this can help with cramps. I also got you some painkillers. If it gets really bad, just take one. Also..."

He trailed off as he looked up and found her staring at him, lost in thought.

Their eyes met. Connor’s gaze darkened. He reached out, cupped the back of her neck, and pulled her in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

The kiss was brief, almost teasing. Connor’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he pulled back, his voice husky. "Get some sleep."

Moira pressed her lips together, her thoughts unreadable. For once, she didn’t offer a sharp retort, replying meekly, "Okay."

A few minutes later, Connor left the bedroom, turning off the light for Moira on his way out.

Moira rolled over under the covers. Thanks to the heating patch on her lower abdomen, she felt warm and cozy.

Meanwhile, after leaving the bedroom, Connor first stood by the floor-to-ceiling window to smoke a cigarette. Then, he picked up his phone, found Miles Murray’s contact, and sent him a message: "Want a tattoo?"

Miles replied instantly: "?"

Connor: "I’ll give you one."

Miles: "What’s with the sudden charity?"

After all, Miles had previously begged him for over half a month just to tattoo a name, and Connor had refused.

And now here he was, offering one out of the blue.

Something was definitely fishy.

Connor: "It’s our deep brotherly bond. I was the one who said no, and I’m the one who’s been regretting it."

Reading Connor’s message, Miles, on the other end of the line, crossed his legs and texted back teasingly: "You think I’m gonna believe that?"

Connor: "Cut the crap. You want it or not?"

Miles: "What? You’re going to dictate the design now?"

Connor: "Yeah. You’re a businessman, so I’ll give you something for good fortune."

Miles: "?"

Connor: "Lord Grant."