Chapter 46: Felt utterly humiliated

Chapter 46: Felt utterly humiliated

Viola watched Vance's face as he stepped back, a deep frown settling between his brows. His intense gaze made her feel even smaller, more exposed. His reaction to her shrinking away had been clear: frustration, perhaps even a hint of hurt. When Viola noticed what she had done, she became guilty. She hadn't meant to recoil, but it had been an instinctive, almost uncontrollable reaction to his overwhelming presence. He had just saved her, protected her fiercely, yet she had responded with fear.

She immediately tried to explain, her voice soft and a little shaky. "I'm so sorry," she began, looking at him with earnest, apologetic eyes. "It's not... it's just that I felt like I was too dirty and wanted to take a shower. I feel so sticky and uncomfortable. It's just... I'm a bit of a clean freak." She hoped her words would clarify her actions, letting him know it wasn't him she was recoiling from, but the discomfort of her own body.

Only then did Vance's facial features return to normal. The deep frown lessened, replaced by a look of understanding. A small sigh escaped his lips, a sound of relief. He still looked serious, but the immediate tension that had filled the space between them eased. He understood the need for cleanliness, perhaps better than anyone.

"I see," he said, his voice calmer now. He gestured towards the bag Sam had left. "The clothes are there. And there's a private bathroom in this room."
Viola nodded, a small wave of gratitude washing over her. The thought of a warm shower, of clean clothes, was incredibly tempting. She slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, preparing to stand. She was determined to do this herself. She didn't want to rely on him any more than she already had.

"I can walk there," she stated, her voice trying to sound firm, more confident than she felt. She was stubborn that she would walk by herself to the bathroom. She just wanted a moment of independence, a brief escape from being so utterly vulnerable and cared for.
Vance watched her, a skeptical look in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but his posture was ready, his gaze sharp. He saw the tremble in her hands as she pushed herself up, the slight wobble as she put weight on her feet.

She took one step, then another. Her legs, weak from her ordeal and prolonged rest, protested immediately. They felt like jelly beneath her. Her vision swam for a moment, and the room tilted. However, after just two steps, her legs wobbled and she was about to fall. Her arms flailed instinctively, trying to find something to grab onto, but there was nothing.

In an instant, Vance quickly rescued her. He moved with a speed that defied his imposing size, his strong arm wrapping around her waist, steadying her before she could hit the floor. His other hand went to her arm, providing firm, unyielding support. Her body, light and fragile, felt almost weightless in his grasp.
Viola clung to him, her face flushing with embarrassment and frustration. She hated being so weak, so dependent. She could feel the solid strength of his body pressed against hers, the warmth radiating from him. The familiar scent of his expensive cologne filled her nostrils, a strong, clean aroma that now felt less intimidating and more... comforting.

"I told you," Vance's voice was firm, a low rumble near her ear. There was no anger in his tone, only absolute conviction. "You are not stable enough to walk on your own."

"I can do it!" Viola protested weakly, pushing against his chest slightly. No matter how she protested, Vance still insisted on helping her to the bathroom. He simply ignored her weak protests, his grip remaining firm, his resolve unyielding. He began to guide her, slowly and carefully, one deliberate step at a time, towards the bathroom door.

"You are not strong enough," he stated simply, his voice a low, steady current of authority. "And I am not going to let you fall again. Not after everything."
Viola sighed, a sound of utter defeat. She knew he was right. Her legs still felt like noodles. She leaned heavily against him, allowing him to support almost all of her weight. Her cheek brushed against his shoulder as they moved, a strange intimacy born of necessity. Each slow step was an effort, but with his support, she felt safe.

Just as they reached the bathroom door, a figure emerged from the main hospital corridor and entered the room. It was a nurse who had come to check on Viola. She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her: the powerful, notoriously private Vance Sterling, holding a frail Viola intimately, guiding her towards the bathroom.

The nurse's face immediately turned a deep shade of red. She blushed, Viola also blushed. A deep, mortifying flush spread across Viola’s cheeks, heating her ears. She felt a wave of humiliation wash over her. This was beyond embarrassing. The most intimidating man in the city was practically carrying her to the bathroom, and a nurse had just witnessed it.

The nurse mumbled a quick apology, her eyes darting away, obviously flustered. "I... I just came to check on your vitals, ma'am. I'll... I'll come back later." She practically fled the room.

Viola buried her face against Vance's shoulder, wishing the floor would swallow her whole. The humiliation was intense. She had a feeling that she wouldn't be able to raise her head so confidently in the future because of this fiasco. Her cheeks burned. She could only imagine what the nurse was thinking, what rumors would spread. Her independence, her quiet dignity, felt utterly shattered.

Vance, however, seemed completely unfazed by the nurse's sudden appearance or Viola's deep embarrassment. He merely closed the bathroom door with his free hand, shutting out the world. He then gently guided Viola inside, helping her stand by the sink.

"Can you manage now?" he asked, his voice softer, but his gaze still watchful, ready to catch her if she wavered.
Viola nodded, still unable to meet his eyes. "Yes," she whispered, her voice muffled. She wanted him to leave, but she knew better than to ask.

Vance paused, looking at her for a long moment. He sensed her discomfort, her need for privacy. He also sensed her fragility. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't shake the protective instinct. He would be just outside the door, listening.

"I'll be right outside," he stated, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "If you need anything, even the slightest help, call me. Immediately." He then stepped out, closing the door softly behind him.

Viola sighed with a mixture of relief and continued mortification. She was alone, finally. But even through the closed door, she could feel his presence, a powerful, watchful shadow. She turned on the faucet, the sound of running water a small comfort. As she began to wash, trying to scrub away the stickiness and the day's traumas, she couldn't help but wonder if her life would ever feel private again.