The Heiress Spoiled by Four Brothers and One Devilish CEO-Chapter 102 Act Like A Spoiled Puppy

At the word "rub," Megan instantly lowered her gaze, cheeks flushed.

Curled up in the warm water, she stammered, "I, I, I..."

Tristan let out a chuckle. "Why did you suddenly stutter??"

Annoyed, Megan splashed water at his face. "I can shower by myself, okay? Get out!"

"I’ll wait outside then," he said, clearly reluctant but finally stepped out.

Once the bathroom door clicked shut, Megan let out a long, exhausted sigh.

Thinking back to their earlier moment of chaos, she felt her face burn. She had truly become his woman.

She was torn between thrill and embarrassment as she smacked the water lightly. That jerk! He’d nearly broken her!

After rinsing off quickly, she stepped out and put on the bathrobe, legs trembling. That man had seriously gone overboard!

Megan glanced into the mirror and couldn’t help but twitch her lips.

Her neck was covered in red marks, and the trail went all the way down past her collarbones.

"Tristan Reid!"

The second she yelled his name, the door flew open and in walked that tall shadow.

Megan tossed back her wet hair and gestured at the hickies dotting her skin. "Seriously? Did you have to go this far?"

Tristan pulled her into his arms, unfazed. "Oh, I could’ve gone further."

Watching her glaringly flustered, he grinned. "Straight-up beast mode."

She pounded his chest with her fists. "How am I supposed to face anyone tomorrow? You’re the worst!"

"Want to leave some marks on me too?"

Megan froze.

"Next time, you better watch out. I’ll be the one on top."

"So you’re already counting down to the next round?"

Megan: "..."

Tristan scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom, gently placing her on the bed.

She immediately noticed the sheets and duvet had been changed.

Tristan grabbed the hairdryer from the vanity and started drying her hair.

Seeing him this attentive, her irritation cooled down a lot.

Once her hair was dry, he set the dryer aside and lightly ran his fingers through her hair.

"Time for some ointment."

"Huh?"

She blinked, confused as he pulled out a tube of cream and a cotton swab from the nightstand. "What’s that?"

"For pain relief."

Without a word, Megan squeezed her thighs together instinctively. "I’ll do it myself."

"You can’t even see properly. Let me. I’ve already seen it all, remember?"

Mortified, she slid under the covers and yanked the blanket over her face.

The moment the cold cream touched her skin, her toes curled involuntarily.Tristan pulled down the thin blanket and looked at the flushed woman beside him, her face red like a cooked shrimp. He couldn’t help grinning wide.

"Quit laughing!" Megan whined softly.

"Alright, alright, no laughing." He dropped a light kiss on her rosy lips. "Be good and get some rest. Mrs. Jones will bring you dinner later. I’m heading to the lab to check on the chip."

"Wait." Megan tugged at his hand and pulled open his collar. "Let me see your shoulder."

Her brows instantly furrowed. "It’s torn open again. Call Dr. Adams to stitch it up."

"It’s fine," he replied.

But under her firm urging, Tristan eventually called Max Adams.

Half an hour later, Max arrived.

Tristan took him into the room next door.

The moment Max saw the scratch marks on Tristan’s chest and the kiss marks stretching along his neck, he instantly got the picture.

Shaking his head helplessly, he slipped on surgical gloves and started stitching. "Didn’t I tell you to avoid any rough movement for a few days?"

Tristan stopped him before he could start. "Give me a local anesthetic."

Max chuckled out loud. "You’re resistant to anesthetics, remember?"

"Depends who’s watching," Tristan said with a smirk.

Megan stood by the door, one hand on her waist. Hearing their exchange, she rolled her eyes hard in her mind.

What a piece of work.

She tugged her fresh robe into place and let her long black hair fall over her chest. Then she pushed the door open. "Doctor Adams is here."

Max had just grabbed a small bottle of anesthetic and a syringe, ready to draw the liquid.

He offered a brief smile. "Mrs. Reid."

Then glanced pointedly at Tristan—was he supposed to inject or not?

Tristan shot him a sideways look full of disdain. "Seriously, Max? Did your memory start failing? Didn’t I already say I’m resistant? What are you doing with that needle?"

As Megan walked over, Tristan buried his face into her chest dramatically. "Thank god you came. Otherwise, I’d be in so much pain right now."

Megan lifted his chin with her fingertips—his light stubble made him look ruggedly sexy.

"You only start hurting the moment I show up?"

Tristan blinked innocently, eyes full of confusion. "What’s my baby talking about? I don’t get it."

Max burst out laughing. He had never seen this side of Tristan before.

This was the same cold-blooded, iron-handed man known for his ruthless decisions in the business world? Now acting like a spoiled puppy in front of his woman?

It was almost hard to believe.

But seeing Tristan’s darkening gaze and the silent death stare being thrown his way, Max cleared his throat quickly and said seriously, "Apologies, I just sneezed."

Megan snorted internally. Sneezing? As if she’d confuse that with a laugh.

She didn’t call him out, though.

Grabbing the syringe and the anesthetic from Max, she expertly drew the liquid and pushed out the air bubbles from the needle.Megan dabbed Tristan’s wound with a cotton swab to disinfect it, then gave him a shot of anesthetic near the area.

Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, "I know I have a soft spot for you playing cute, but honestly, I hate seeing you hurt more."

She handed the syringe to Max Adams. "Even if he’s got a high tolerance, some numbing effect is better than nothing. Dr. Adams, you’re up."

Max nodded slightly and got to work stitching up the wound.

"Does it hurt?" Megan asked.

Tristan wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in. "Hurts like hell."

She tried to hold back a laugh. "Good. Serves you right!"

Watching the two banter, Max couldn’t help but feel like the odd guy out stuck watching a romcom.

He quickly finished stitching, packed up the med kit, and bailed.

Megan helped Tristan get dressed, then leaned down and kissed him lightly. "Still hurting?"

Pulling her onto his lap, Tristan held her close. "Yep. Wanna comfort me a little more, Mrs. Reid?"

Megan: "..."

Tristan carried her back to the bedroom and gently laid her on the bed.

"Mrs. Jones will bring you dinner soon. Don’t wait for me, just eat first. I’m heading to the lab for a bit." He kissed her on the forehead and walked out.

Megan turned over lazily, snuggled under the blanket, and shut her eyes.

Not long after, she was fast asleep, her breathing soft and steady.

Down in the underground lab, Zeta Prime was already waiting obediently near the airlock.

As soon as Tristan appeared, it triggered the valve and handed over a sealed black pouch.

He walked inside, sat in a leather chair, and clipped on a precision lens to his right eye.

Gloved up, he ripped the bag open and used tweezers to pull out a broken chip fragment.

Through the lens, the chip’s fine structures were magnified several times.

It was a composite chip built on a glass base with a silicon core. After an explosion, it shatters into tiny bits, and reassembling them is both a nightmare and nearly impossible for data recovery.

Inside the mid-layer of the chip, there was a powerful micro bomb, but the tech wasn’t all that stable.

What really caught his attention, though, was a tiny inscription etched in the core: Soss.

Short for Soss—a black market bomb manufacturing outfit.

Tristan took off the gloves and lens, leaned back lazily in his chair, and pulled out his phone.

"Cameron," he said, "dig into anyone working with Soss—individuals, companies, doesn’t matter. I want every name."

When Tristan got back to the room, Megan was still fast asleep.

The hot vanilla cream milk on the nightstand was still warm, the aroma lingering in the room, but it wasn’t enough to rouse her—proof she’d been thoroughly worn out.

Tristan set the bowl on the table, slid into bed, and pulled the small woman into his arms, holding her while they slept.