Chapter 89 Mr. Covington, I'll Help You Out

"Mr. Drake, are you leaving now? The dishes aren't all served yet," Calvin insisted, "Please wait a moment." 

Dalvin stopped Calvin and said, "Dad, Mr. Drake has something to attend to." 

Calvin didn't dare to ask directly, so he politely said, "Then we won't delay you. Mr. Drake, I'll see you out." 

"No need. Mr. Dalvin will see me out," Covington said in a deep voice, requesting Dalvin escort him. 

"Alright!" Dalvin felt extremely honored. 

"Excuse me, please make way!" He led the way, guiding the two of them out. 

Covington walked quickly, almost leaving Holland behind. She found Covington a bit strange, and his gaze was somewhat intimidating. Dalvin escorted them outside the restaurant, got the car keys from the waiter, and was attentive and responsible. 

He kept saying, "You have no idea how impressive I was today. They all flattered me, wanting me to introduce a miracle doctor." 

"Cov, let me ask again. Is your infertility issue resolved?" 

With Holland, the miracle doctor, taking care of him, he should be fine. 

Covington glanced coldly at him and said, "You talk too much." 

"I'm just concerned about you," Dalvin muttered. 

"Holland, you go ahead and get in the car," Covington turned and quietly instructed her. 

Holland glanced at them without any objections and returned to the car. Dalvin approached him, teasingly saying, "Hey, you deliberately separated Holland. You don't want to lose face, right? It doesn't matter if your condition hasn't improved; you don't need to be so mysterious." He was in a cheerful mood, feeling proud. 

"Dalvin." 

Covington's eyes turned icy, making Dalvin suddenly hesitant, no longer daring to joke around. 

"Now go inside and give Rohan the utensils we used, Poppy and I. He knows what to do." His tone was serious, his face grim. 

As soon as Dalvin heard this, he knew something was wrong! Poppy might be foolish, but she wouldn't do something so outrageous with Maxwell in this situation. 

"Alright, I'll go right away." He didn't ask for reasons. Whatever Covington ordered, he would do. "And you..." 

Dalvin took a few steps and turned back to look at him. He paused for a moment and said, "You're definitely fine. You're quite cunning." 

He had overthought it! 

So he hurried back into the restaurant. 

Covington got into the car silently, and once the door closed, he instructed, "Tate, back to the villa." 

"Yes, Mr. Covington." 

Covington reached out and lowered the partition between the seats, creating two separate spaces. 

Holland watched him, worriedly saying, "Mr. Covington, you don't seem quite right." 

Just as she finished speaking, Covington turned off all the lights in the back of the car. It was pitch black inside. Holland closed her eyes abruptly, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness. Covington pressed her onto the soft seat. Her breath felt scorching. 

"Mr. Covington." She gently struggled. 

Covington remained silent, only kissing her neck. His kisses were warm and moist. Holland's breath hitched; she hadn't expected him to do such a thing. 

"Holland," Covington murmured, "Don't move." 

Holland dared not move. She felt his body grow hotter against hers. Could it be... Tonight, Poppy was clearly acting strangely. She was reluctant to be with Maxwell yet tearfully admitted it was voluntary. 

Could it be something she ate? 

Holland dared not move, allowing him to lean against her. The heat from his body transferred to hers. His occasional kisses made her nerves tense. Unsure of what to do, she simply let him continue. 

Fortunately, Covington remained conscious. Apart from the kisses, he didn't do anything further. It seemed like he was seeking solace in her presence. Holland had never felt the journey home to be so long. When Tate parked the car at the villa's entrance, Holland breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Mr. Covington, we're home!" she reminded him. 

Covington fiercely kissed her on the lips before finally getting up. His tie was loosened, and his hair was messy and damp. His eyes locked onto hers. 

Awkwardly, Holland turned her head and opened the car door. As the night breeze blew in, the ambiguous atmosphere inside the car dissipated. Covington got out of the car without a word. Holland noticed he seemed a bit unsteady as he stepped out. She wanted to help him, but for some reason, she hesitated and withdrew her hand. Covington slowly walked into the living room, and Aunt was not at home. 

Holland looked around and thought Aunt must have gone out at this time. She watched Covington go upstairs, moving slower than usual. 

Holland was certain; he must have eaten the same thing as Poppy! 

Such a coincidence couldn't be ruled out as part of Poppy's scheme. 

"Mr. Covington!" Holland caught up. 

But all she heard was a loud "bang" as his bedroom door closed. "Mr. Covington." Holland tapped on the door, "Let me in, please." 

She wanted to see what was going on. If he was in serious condition, he might need to go to the hospital. 

"Are you sure you want to come in?" Covington asked hoarsely. 

Even through the door, Holland could sense the danger. 

She hesitated for a moment, but feeling she couldn't leave him alone, she said, "I want to come in!" 

The door opened. Covington grabbed her wrist and pressed her against the door, kissing her passionately. Intensely. Fiercely. It wasn't the gentle kisses from the car; this was a fierce assault. His suppressed desires burst forth. Holland's breath quickened. She couldn't resist, only pleading for mercy. 

Covington's eyes reddened at the corners. His hands gripped her waist, leading her into the bedroom, where the large bed awaited. Holland stumbled, was pressed onto the soft bed by him, and kissed him. His forcefulness was overwhelming, instilling a new sense of fear in her.

Covington seemed to have lost control. He was no longer the restrained and gentle man from before; today, he seemed like a different person. His hands touched her dress, even attempting to unbutton it. Holland was in a dilemma. She could hear him opening the drawer of the bedside table, the sound of plastic being torn. Holland knew what he was doing. 

With her almost healed left hand, she tightly grabbed his hand and spoke loudly. "Mr. Covington! You must be ill!" 

Covington finally came to his senses, meeting her gaze. He took a deep breath. Sensing his actions had ceased, Holland breathed a sigh of relief momentarily. Her eyes were filled with tension. 

"Mr. Covington, I'll help you out."