Chapter 139 Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Matilda couldn't think of a good excuse to get out of it. She was perfectly healthy, feeling fine. Nothing going on at home either—she'd told Wanda just this morning that her husband was away on business and she was living alone.
She couldn't exactly say she had beef with Mr. Everly, could she? Like, who was she to make such demands? Or worse, people might think she and Nason had something going on. The workplace thrived on gossip—better not give them ammunition.
So off they went to the next venue.
Nason had reserved a VIP room at a nightclub—one of those massive setups that could hold twenty-plus people. Matilda had been to karaoke bars before, but nightclubs were different. KTV was mostly about singing, but at places like this, you could order hostesses to pour drinks and keep you company.
Doctors were relatively sheltered compared to other professions, so naturally they felt out of their element here. But Nason was a pro at working the room. When the Serenity Health Center crew arrived, he made them feel right at home, getting everyone involved in drinking games and cracking jokes.
The doctors had never met anyone quite like him and found him entertaining enough to play along. Then came the serious drinking. Nason was clearly a seasoned drinker—the doctors took turns trying to match him and failed miserably.
Usually at these things, they'd go easy on the women, so Matilda had been hanging back with the other female doctors, singing karaoke. But as she watched her male colleagues drop like flies, the women couldn't just sit there anymore. Naturally, they went down too.
By now Nason was good and drunk. He held up a bottle of red wine and declared, "Whoever can finish this whole bottle—I'll give your hospital that pharmaceutical contract!"
Matilda looked around at her colleagues sprawled everywhere, all completely wasted. Not one person left standing. Dr. Cox looked at her with desperate, hopeful eyes.
Matilda gritted her teeth. Like a soldier heading into battle, she summoned every ounce of courage she had. "I'll do it!"
She walked up to Nason and took the bottle from his hand, looking him dead in the eye. "You're a man of your word?"
Nason looked back at her with a contemptuous smirk. "Don't be a hero. If you drink yourself to death, I'm not paying damages."
Matilda let out a cold laugh and tipped the bottle back. She didn't chug it all at once—first she downed a third, rested a moment, then another third. Finally, she looked Nason in the eye, gave him a mocking smile, and polished off the last third.
"Yes!" Everyone burst into applause.
But Matilda felt her vision starting to blur. Back in high school, she'd read news stories about girls getting roofied and taken advantage of after drinking. Terrified it might happen to her someday, she'd secretly bought alcohol during breaks and practiced drinking at home until she was on the verge of passing out. That's how she'd built up her tolerance.
She shook her head, fighting to keep control. Her vision cleared a bit, and Nason's vaguely menacing face appeared in front of her.
"Dr. Spencer, you okay? Want me to drive you home?"
"Mr. Everly, you're too kind. I'm perfectly fine."
She swayed a little as she walked. Nason's reflexes were quick—he reached out to steady her. She immediately dodged away, then announced loudly, "Everyone! Mr. Everly just promised to give that pharmaceutical contract to Serenity Health Center. Let's thank Mr. Everly!"
Nason smiled. Then he brought his fingers to his nose and inhaled. When he'd steadied her just now, his hand had landed on her waist. Soft and smooth. Absolutely premium quality.
...
Matilda called a rideshare driver for the night. When she got home, she took a quick shower and collapsed on the sofa. Within two minutes, she was out cold.
She had no idea how long she'd been lying there when she dimly felt someone draping a blanket over her. Instantly on alert, she grabbed the person's hand, ready to defend herself. But this person was strong—she couldn't budge him at all.
She instinctively opened her eyes and saw Wentworth! She thought she must be drunk, hallucinating. She shook her head, trying to focus on the person in front of her. What if it was Nason, or some creep who'd followed her home?
Then she heard Wentworth's teasing voice. "Nice reflexes. You've been practicing, haven't you?"
Only then did she sit up, staring at him for a long moment. That handsome face, sun-kissed skin, strong nose. He wore a dress shirt with a tight tank underneath, the collar open to reveal his muscular chest.
"Wentworth, is it really you?" The excitement sobered her up considerably.
"Are there other men in this house I should know about?" Wentworth laughed, then caressed her face. The flush from drinking hadn't completely faded. Even though she'd showered, she still smelled faintly of alcohol.
"You went out drinking tonight?"
"Work thing."
"Since when do doctors have to schmooze so much?"
"What profession doesn't? Oh wait—except yours."
He smiled, but his fingers never left her face, tracing it gently as his eyes gazed at her with deep affection. Desire stirred within her, and her thoughts drifted back to those days at the border. Unable to help herself, she threw herself into his arms and held him tight.
Wentworth wrapped his arms around her and lifted her effortlessly. He was about to carry her to her old room when Matilda pointed toward the master bedroom. "I'm sleeping in your room now."
He smiled and changed direction. He set her down on the bed and kissed her lips softly, then whispered, "Let me grab a shower."
"Okay, I'll wait," she said shyly.
As soon as he disappeared into the bathroom, she quickly checked her breath. It wasn't terrible, but she rushed to the guest bathroom to brush her teeth again, spritzed on some perfume, then dove back under the covers.
When Wentworth finished his shower, he slipped into bed beside her. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder—even if they had a thousand things to talk about, those could wait until after tonight.
...
The next morning, she woke to find Wentworth propped up on one elbow, staring at her without moving.
She asked shyly, "Why are you staring at me?"
Wentworth smiled. "Haven't seen a beautiful woman in a while."
"Liar. You didn't see any beautiful women on your trip?"
"Only wild beasts."
"No wonder last night you were so..." She wanted to make a dirty joke, but being naturally straightlaced, she couldn't get the words out. She changed the subject. "How have you been lately?"
"Pretty good."
She'd already explored his body last night—no signs of injury.
He asked her, "What about you? How've you been?"
Her smile faded. "Not great." She turned away from him.
He quickly wrapped his arms around her from behind and leaned over her shoulder. "Is it because of my mother?"