Chapter 165 - When He Had The Chance
"Liddy!" Adeline sharply gasped, even though she had made that audacious comment directly to Elias before.
"I'm just kidding, of course," Lydia remarked. "But if you're thinking about it… I own multiple houses and condos, all of which you can occupy if you want to run away from your overbearing husband."
Adeline quietly laughed. "I don't think I'll run from him. At most, I'll kick him out of his bedroom."
Lydia raised a brow. She leaned her chin on her arm and stared at her pretty friend. Adeline wasn't doing anything, and Lydia fell in love anyways. There was something so soothing about Adeline's presence.
"Sounds like you've done this before," Lydia remarked.
Adeline sheepishly smiled. Just then, the food arrived. A waitress came in with a tray of food, covered by a silver dome. The utensils were polished until they were more reflective than a mirror. She brightened up at the sight of the steak, juicy and moist.
"Once or twice," Adeline admitted.
"And how did he take it?" Lydia asked, not realizing the cause of their argument.
"Quite well," Adeline said. She was surprised that Elias didn't blow the castle up when she had done that. She felt like he would've done that, had they not discussed their power dynamic.
After discussing with him a while back, Elias no longer prevented her from seeing Lydia. Granted, it was the b.a.r.e minimum, but she loved the change in their relationship.
"Hm, what a twist of events," Lydia hummed.
But then Lydia watched as Adeline placed the juicy meat into her mouth, not once hesitating at the sight of the red sauce. Lydia blinked. It seemed the baby had a heavy appetite, and Adeline didn't even realize it.
"By the way," Adeline said. "You never told me what happened after I threw up on you and Weston escorted you out."
Lydia's mouth went dry. She completely placed down her utensils, unable to meet her best friend in the eye. Instead, she glanced at their spring salad, topped with fruits, nuts, and cheese.
"He was quite nice to me, for once," Lydia mumbled.
Adeline raised a brow. "Oh?"
Adeline cut another piece of the steak, placing it into her mouth, chewing happily at the food. "Tell me what happened, bit by bit."
Lydia was hesitant at first, but she needed to clear her mind. There was no one else she could talk to, especially about this topic. How was she going to explain to her socialite friends about this situation? And she really wanted to get the thought off her c.h.e.s.t. Especially with the shareholder meeting coming up tomorrow.
"Well… here goes nothing," she mumbled.
- - - - -
"Oh my god, oh my god," Lydia cried out, hyperventilating even though a sturdy arm was wrapped around her shoulders. She felt herself being rushed down the hallways, past a corner, all the whilst she tried to not sob.
"Calm down," Weston snapped.
"You try to calm down with vomit all over you!" Lydia shrieked at him, despite how kind his touch was on her shoulder.
Lydia couldn't even tease him or yell at him for touching her. Without his guidance, she would've been frozen on the spot.
"We'll get you cleaned up," Weston said with a loud sigh.
Weston supposed reprimanding her to be quiet wouldn't do anything. Besides, he had never seen someone so vulnerable, yet violent. What a strange woman.
"P-promise?" Lydia asked, hating the sight and smell of vomit. It made her want to throw up as well, and the thought nauseated her. She hated doing anything that ruined her character or appearance.
Weston hesitated. He had never heard her voice so weak.
"Promise," he said in a softened voice, just as they reached a large guest bathroom.
Lydia peered up at him, her eyes watered, and her lips trembling. Weston's mouth went dry. Today, he was beginning to see a much more different side of her. He felt a strange feeling in his c.h.e.s.t. A sense of d.e.s.i.r.e that burned his soul. He wanted to see the other sides of her, the ones that weren't feisty.
"Now strip," Weston commanded.
"W-what?"
"Strip."
"No."
Weston threw her a pointed look. "Fine, stand here in your vomit-stained clothes. Suites me."
Weston shrugged and turned around, heading for the door. He had duties and doc.u.ments to tend to. He didn't want to babysit a damn, spoiled heiress. But then, he felt a small tug on his sleeves. He glanced down and turned his head, to see she had sullenly grabbed him.
"Can you grab me a pair of clothes?" she grumbled.
"You'll need a shower," he said.
"Of course I do, don't you think I knew that?" she bit out.
"I'm just reminding you," he gritted.
Lydia glared up at him, suddenly forgetting the situation she was in. Why was he so mean to her? If he was a lot nicer, she'd be a lot kinder too. She only gave what she received.
"So strip," Weston deadpanned. "Take off your dirty clothes. I'll give it to a maid and have it cleaned."
"I can tell you want to turn around," Lydia suddenly said. Her confidence was fueled by a will to piss him off. Something about his tone of speech infuriated her. She wanted to provoke and poke at him, testing the limits of his control.
Lydia knew she was in the wrong for doing that, but she was too blinded by anger to think properly. Who was he to command her? If he had used a kinder tone, she would've treated him with more respect.
"So why don't you?" she added on.
"As if I want to see what's underneath your clothes," Weston scoffed.
Silence engulfed them. Weston held back a sigh of relief. Finally. Some peace and quiet— he heard the ruffle of clothes. He grinded his teeth, his fingers curling into a fist.
This crazy woman. She was actually undressing behind him.
"Are you sure about that?" Lydia countered, her attention drifting to his large hands.
Weston stared at the wall, glaring a hole through it, realizing the sun was high in the sky, and her shadows were on the wall. He saw the outline of her silhouette, lean and beautiful. His eyes were glued to the shadow, his attention following the outline of her b.r.e.a.s.t to her small waist and then her curvy h.i.p.s.
Weston swallowed. He should've left when he had the chance.
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