Chapter 165
Philip released his grip, and Catherine's body immediately began to fall.
Just as she was about to tumble, Philip pulled her tightly back into his arms.
This Catherine was truly going to drive him crazy.
Philip cursed under his breath, ultimately unable to leave her stranded in the living room. He carried her upstairs to the master bedroom.
Upon entering the bedroom, Philip roughly tossed Catherine onto the large bed, jolting her awake.
She sat up, asking groggily, "What... what happened? Was there an earthquake?"
Philip stood by the bed, looking down at her ridiculous expression with a mixture of irritation and amusement.
Catherine rubbed her aching head, the hangover making her stomach churn.
Sitting on the bed, she looked down at her dress, leaned in to smell it, and said with disgust, "I smell terrible, absolutely filthy!"
Somehow, Catherine had picked up Philip's obsession with cleanliness.
Philip gave a cold laugh, following her train of thought. "Yes, you are quite filthy."
The memory of seeing her so close to Cecil at the bar still infuriated him.
Catherine looked up at Philip and commanded, "I need a shower!"
Philip snorted, "Then go take one."
Catherine pointed at him and pouted, "You. Come help me shower!"
She had apparently decided to boss Philip around completely.
Philip, who had never been ordered around by anyone since childhood, found Catherine to be the first.
His expression darkened, his mood absolutely terrible. He had no desire to cater to her whims.
"Shower yourself."
Catherine complained, "My head hurts so much. Just help me, won't you?"
Philip stared at her coldly, saying nothing.
Seeing his reaction, Catherine began to whine and plead, "Please help me, won't you? Please?"
Philip crossed his arms over his chest, his stern face showing slight signs of yielding.
Damn it, why did her whining affect him so much?
He uncrossed his arms and strode to Catherine's side.
Just as he was about to bend down and pick her up, he suddenly remembered something and paused to ask, "Catherine, who am I?"
If she dared call him "Cecil" again, he would throw her out immediately!
Catherine frowned deeply, seemingly trying hard to recognize the person before her. After a long moment, she gave her answer.
"You are..."
"Philip the Big Meanie!"
Philip raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that response.
She would never dare say something like that to his face when sober.
Perhaps because of Catherine's earlier mistake in identity, as long as she didn't call him Cecil, Philip seemed willing to accept whatever name she used.
Philip reached out and pulled her up from the bed.
Catherine pressed herself against Philip, clinging to him like a koala.
"Philip the Big Meanie!" she continued to mumble, using her drunken state to complain, "Why are you so mean?"
Philip drew in a sharp breath, his large hand tightening around her waist.
"Catherine!" he said through gritted teeth, "You'll pay for this when you're sober tomorrow!"
Catherine whined tearfully, "Why are you being harsh with me?"
Philip saw tears welling up in her eyes and frowned.
Drunk Catherine had become particularly vulnerable, tearing up at the slightest provocation.
Philip sighed, completely at a loss with Catherine.
"I'm not being harsh. Don't cry."
Catherine stared blankly at Philip's handsome face, then suddenly beamed with a brilliant smile.
"You're so handsome, I'll listen to you."
As she spoke, she bounced lightly, clinging even more tightly to Philip.
Philip steadied her small frame, his hand supporting her bottom to prevent her from falling.
Catherine leaned close to Philip's ear and whispered, "Philip the Big Meanie, I'm so tired. Just help me shower, please?"
Philip thought drunk Catherine was truly impossible to handle.
He couldn't scold her or be harsh with her. Most frustrating of all, even though she infuriated him, as soon as she smiled, he found himself not caring about anything else.
Philip sighed heavily, finally resigning himself to carrying Catherine into the bathroom to help her clean up.
The next morning, Catherine woke up with a pounding hangover.
As soon as she sat up, her stomach lurched and she rushed to the bathroom.
Unfortunately, her foot caught on the comforter that had fallen beside the bed, and she stumbled, falling hard.
Philip was immediately startled awake. He watched as Catherine staggered toward the bathroom.
After a moment's hesitation, he quickly threw back the covers and strode toward the bathroom.
Catherine was violently sick in the bathroom.
Seeing this, Philip walked to the sink, took her toothbrush cup, and filled it with warm water.
Philip held the cup to her lips, letting her rinse her mouth.
Catherine was completely drained of energy, limp all over. She took a sip from Philip's offered cup and spat it out.
Philip pulled Catherine to his side and gently wiped her face with a towel.
After a night of heavy drinking, Catherine felt absolutely terrible. She leaned against Philip, wrapping her arms around his solid waist.
"I feel awful."
Remembering her behavior last night, Philip scoffed, "Serves you right."
Catherine looked up at him, her chin resting on his chest.
After sleeping it off, Catherine fully remembered what had happened the night before.
Why had she gone to the bar to drink?
Right, because Philip had gotten a hotel room with Emma!
Catherine suddenly pushed Philip away, her expression instantly turning cold. "I suppose I don't deserve Mr. Foster's concern."
Hearing this, Philip's brows furrowed tightly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Catherine turned her head away, not even wanting to look at him.
"What else could it mean? I'm neither Mr. Foster's first love nor his dream girl, so naturally I don't deserve Mr. Foster's concern."
"You're talking about Emma." Philip guessed who Catherine was referring to as his first love and dream girl.
Catherine's face darkened as she heard Philip's matter-of-fact tone.
He actually admitted so casually, right in front of her, that Emma was his dream girl!
"Then go find your dream girl!" Catherine turned to leave, fuming.
But she had barely taken a few steps past him when Philip pulled her back into his arms.
He tightened his grip around her slender waist, effortlessly lifting her up and setting her on the bathroom counter.
Sitting on the counter, Catherine was now at eye level with Philip.
Her small face was puffed up with anger, clearly displeased.
Philip braced one hand on the counter and held her firmly by the waist, pinning her in place.
"Elizabeth is in custody now, and since Emma would be uncomfortable staying with Terry and James, I booked her a suite at the Sunnyvale Hotel," Philip explained calmly. "I spent less than ten minutes in that room. What do you think I could possibly do with Emma in that time?"
Catherine listened to Philip's explanation, turned her face away and snorted, "You don't need more than ten minutes to cross a line."