Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Matilda's POV

The world spun as Wellington lifted me with one arm, settling me securely in the crook of his elbow. I let out a small cry, my arms instinctively wrapping tightly around his neck. He straightened up, holding me with just one arm. I was curled up in his embrace like some kind of human-sized doll.

Hank's eyes went wide as saucers beside us, and then he silently covered his face with his hands.

I was so mortified I could've passed out right there. My entire body felt like it was on fire. I tried to struggle a bit, but Wellington's arm didn't budge an inch.

The next second, in my desperation to hide my embarrassment, I did something I'd regret forever. I ducked my head and buried my entire face in the crook of his neck. By the time I realized what I'd done and tried to pull away, his other free hand had already pressed against my waist.

"Don't move." His voice was low, impossible to tell if he was angry or something else, but I instantly froze. "Hank," Wellington's voice rang out again. "Bring the car to the side entrance. Notify John."

"Yes, Mr. Learmond!" Hank's voice came muffled through his fingers, and then he took off running toward the other end of the corridor without looking back.

I stayed curled up in Wellington's arms, not daring to move a muscle. This position, this proximity, this situation... everything was beyond anything I could comprehend or handle. Even the throbbing pain in my ankle seemed less important now.

Wellington said nothing more. He carried me, his long strides taking us in the direction Hank had gone. He carried me through the silent corridor, toward the side entrance, and placed me directly in the car. The moment I sat down, he got in from the other side and pulled out a soft, luxurious throw blanket from beside him, draping it over my bare legs without asking.

I froze, my gaze drifting blankly to the window. Under the dim yellow glow of the streetlights, the sycamore leaves swayed gently in the night breeze, still lush and green. It was the height of summer. Sure, the night air had a bit of a chill, but did I really need such a thick blanket?

I mentally complained, but my lips moved without producing sound. In the end, I didn't dare push the blanket off. The atmosphere was too strange right now. I was terrified that any unnecessary movement would shatter this fragile balance.

Hank started the car and drove into the night. The interior was completely silent. I stared at the scenery flying past the window, my mind a tangled mess. Too much had happened tonight. I couldn't make sense of any of it.

Wait—this direction... this was the road back to the villa, wasn't it? Wellington was taking me back? What about him? Would he be going back, too?

My heart rate did that traitorous flutter again. After everything that had happened tonight—all those things beyond my understanding—was it really appropriate for Wellington and me to return to the villa together? And Kerena was still there. Just this afternoon, she'd had a complete breakdown because of my questions and caused that whole scene.

If Wellington came back with me right now, wouldn't it upset Kerena all over again? I couldn't even imagine what that would look like. Rationally, I knew it was his private residence. He had every right to go home. I had no standing or authority to tell him not to. But my instinct to avoid awkwardness and trouble drove me to speak up, my voice strained. "Mr. Learmond, actually, you could just drop me off on the side of the road. I can catch a ride back myself. You can go ahead with whatever you need to do..."

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. It sounded like I was trying to get rid of him, or worse, like I was assuming he was planning to escort me home. Sure enough, Wellington turned his head. His gaze swept coolly over my swollen ankle, then moved away, returning to the road ahead.

He didn't say anything, but that look clearly said, "And how exactly are you getting back? Crawling on that foot that's swollen like a balloon?"

I was instantly speechless, my cheeks burning as I lowered my head in silence. The car fell quiet again. The overly still atmosphere made the exhaustion-induced drowsiness even heavier. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier, closing involuntarily as my consciousness started to blur.

I was woken by someone gently shaking me. "Matilda, wake up. We've arrived."

I groggily lifted my heavy eyelids. Through my blurry vision, the first thing I saw was a well-defined hand resting on my right shoulder through the thin blanket. The hand was beautiful—nails neatly trimmed and clean, a simple but clearly expensive watch on the wrist. Wellington's watch.

Wait—right shoulder? My foggy brain struggled to process this. I remembered Wellington sitting on my left. Why would his hand be on my right shoulder?

I jolted awake completely, my entire body going rigid. Then I discovered, to my horror, that I'd slumped entirely against Wellington. My head was resting on his shoulder, and my body had somehow turned sideways, curled up against his chest.

"I'm so sorry!" I scrambled to sit up straight, my face instantly blazing. Oh my God! I'd fallen asleep in the car and leaned on my boss! This was a hundred times more mortifying than being carried into the car earlier!

My movements were too frantic. I jostled my injured ankle, gasping sharply from the pain as I lost my balance and tilted to the side again. "Careful." Wellington's hand reached out in time, catching my arm and steadying me with a firm hold, helping me sit up properly.

I was about to breathe a sigh of relief and thank him when I realized, horrified, that after steadying me, his hand didn't seem to have any intention of withdrawing. Instead, it slid downward, landing on my waist, as if he was about to lift me up again like before!

I completely panicked. Fortunately, at that critical moment, Hank's voice came from outside the window. "Mr. Learmond, the wheelchair is ready."

Immediately after, the car door on my side was pulled open, and Uma's worried face appeared. "Ms. Hamilton, are you alright? Let me help you out."

Wellington's movement paused almost imperceptibly. The hand that had nearly wrapped around my waist immediately withdrew, moving instead to cover his lips as he cleared his throat lightly. "Help Ms. Hamilton out of the car. Be careful of her foot."

"Yes, Mr. Learmond." Uma quickly responded and reached in to help me. I felt like I'd been granted a reprieve. Using Uma's support, I slowly inched out of the car. Hank had already wheeled the chair to the side of the car. With Uma and Hank's careful assistance, I finally managed to settle into the wheelchair.

But I still accidentally bumped my injured ankle. I couldn't help but cry out softly again, my brow furrowing. Almost the instant I made that sound of pain, I felt a gaze sweep quickly over me. Instinctively, I looked up toward Wellington, who was now standing on the other side of the car.

But he was turned to the side, speaking in low tones to Irene, who had come out with Uma. That glance from his direction just now seemed like nothing more than my imagination.