Chapter 26 Saved Me
Sarah
"Then it's all right. Now, you need to rinse the foam off your body, change your clothes. “Mr Romano saved you," she handed over a robe. "We don't have any suitable women's clothing for you right now. Please make do with this."
My hand, holding the cup, froze in midair. "Did Shawn save me?" I rubbed my temples, feeling that it was indeed true.
I was simply so embarrassed and frightened, waking up to find myself wrapped in nothing but a towel and lying on his body, that I hadn't had time to think.
Now that I thought it over, I realized that if I had fainted in the bath, only he could have carried me out, so I could rest on the bed.
She placed the robe on the bed. "Sarah, don't take his words to heart, and got wet again because he had to save you, so I advised you to thank him. I'll leave the robe here, and someone will bring your clothes later."
After she left.
And I hurriedly drank some hot tea to sober up, and feeling a little better, I rinsed off the foam, put on my robe, and ran out in my slippers.
She was right: both in my heart and in my mind, I should have thanked Shawn.
I didn't just owe him a thank you; I should at least apologize and prepare for his wrath.
Shawn took another shower and emerged from the bathroom to find me standing against the wall of his room.
"Who let you in?" he asked, holding a towel and casually drying his still-damp hair.
My tone was particularly contrite: "I came in alone. I just want to thank you and apologize. I know you don't want to hear excuses, but I swear this will never happen again."
Shawn turned slightly, throwing the towel aside, and upon hearing the so-called oath, the corner of his mouth twitched mockingly, not wanting to believe it.
“I swear, this will never happen again, Shawn...I swear, it really wasn't me...”
This woman's promises always seem so sincere, but they're forgotten in the blink of an eye, worthless.
"Explain." He turned around, his tall, bulky figure standing five or six meters away, his hands slowly thrust into the pockets of his robe. "Who said I don't want an explanation? Right now, I want an explanation."
I was momentarily speechless, staring at him blankly, bewilderment in my clear eyes.
Is it normal to be so unconventional? Doesn't every time I explain, he coldly tell me he doesn't want an explanation?
"And I want every detail explained crystal clear." Shawn's voice was clear and distinct, enunciating every word with precision: "Keep your promise that it won't happen again. As for the remaining ninety thousand, don't bother asking. If it happens again, you'll owe me!"
I felt my insides crumbling. Becoming a businessman, wasn't that really important? Despite his coldness, he could so confidently claim that I owed him.
Where had their second-generation wealthy insouciance gone? Were they making such a big deal out of me, involving tens of thousands?
"Shawn, can you…"
He raised his eyebrows sharply: "Right now, I just need an explanation."
With no choice, I told the whole story, omitting the details about how I'd been coaxed into drinking so as not to disturb my friends.
Having expressed my explanation, I calmly awaited a decision.
Shawn leaned lazily on the table and, after listening, asked coldly, "Where is that man who hugged you?"
Hearing this, my eyes widened slightly. Wasn't it me not throwing up on him?
He saw me completely confused and hesitated, unsure of what to say.
He had clearly seen earlier, Jackson, who had thrown the coat over me, was wearing the very same one I had been wearing when he first came to the White Mansion.
He had thrown that jacket away; could it really be...
"I'm talking about that coat!" he asked darkly, his voice low and slightly menacing. "The coat I threw away, why were you wearing it just now?"
This time, I was completely confused, completely unable to remember which coat I'd just been wearing. Judging by Shawn's words.
Strange, that coat must have been cursed.
"Of course I found it again," I pressed my fingertips to my forehead, explaining with a headache, "my friend lent me his coat. I couldn't just say I lost it, so I had to pick it up, wash it, and return it."
My explanation, which I thought was perfectly logical, only made his face darken even more, as if a cold draft had swept through the room, chilling me to the bone.
The light from the pale gold wall lamp fell obliquely, illuminating his chiseled features with a play of light and shadow that accentuated their contours. His face gradually approached mine until I had no choice but to press myself against the wall.
A sturdy figure ahead blocked my path, his shadow falling on me, leaving an icy chill.
"Shawn..." I looked up and said quietly, a hint of resentment. The familiar tone and intonation of his name made him frown, and a pain throbbed in his temples.
But when he thought about what I had just said, daring to wash another man's clothes, this intense displeasure made him unable to restrain himself.
Knock, knock, a knock on the door, neither too light nor too strong.
I, grasping at straws, said, "I'll open the door."
I had barely taken a step when my shoulder was jerked back, an imperious force pressing me back against the wall, and a hand pressed against the wall, blocking my way.
He barely moved his lips: "Come in."
The door opened, and a servant's voice rang out: "sir, Doctor has arrived. Should he wait, or…"
I was slightly taken aback; it was so late… ah, had the doctor really come because of her?
"Send Doctor back," Shawn dictated, his brow set in fierce determination, without further ado, without explanation.
The door closed again, and I felt a fleeting warmth in my heart; the doctor must have come for me.
"Shawn, I have no regard for him, he is my friend. This relationship, this is all a misunderstanding," I finally found the right way to explain, looking at him impatiently.