The CEO's Unspoken Love Novel

Chapter 22 Derek POV I watched the city lights of Boston flicker past the car window, casting intermittent shadows across Eleanor's sleeping face. She had fallen asleep almost immediately after we left the club, the bourbon finally claiming victory over her consciousness. At first, she'd maintained a distance on her side of the spacious backseat, but as the car rounded corners and navigated the late-night streets, physics gradually betrayed her intentions. With each turn, she drifted closer.

I considered waking her or at least propping her upright, but something in her expression stopped me- a vulnerability rarely visible when she was awake. The carefully constructed walls she maintained around me had temporarily dissolved, leaving behind only the pure, unguarded Eleanor. "I was never what you wanted..." she murmured, so softly I nearly missed it. I froze, uncertain if she was sleep-talking or caught in that strange liminal space between consciousness and dreams. Her words created an uncomfortable pressure in my chest that I refused to acknowledge.

When the car hit an unexpected pothole, Eleanor slid further toward me, her head coming to rest completely on my shoulder. Her hand unconsciously sought mine, fingers curling around my palm with surprising strength. The familiar scent of her shampoo-something with jasmine and vanilla-filled my senses, awakening memories I'd spent two years trying to suppress. Without thinking, I placed my free arm around her shoulders to prevent her from sliding further. The gesture felt both foreign and achingly familiar. "We're here, Mr.

Wells," my driver announced quietly, pulling up to our Beacon Hill apartment building. "Eleanor," I said softly, attempting to rouse her. "We're home." She mumbled something unintelligible, her eyes fluttering briefly before closing again. After thanking the driver, I made a quick decision. Attempting to make her walk in this state would be both impractical and potentially dangerous. I carefully slid one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her from the seat. She was lighter than I expected, or perhaps I seldom had the feeling of holding her.

As I stood, she instinctively wrapped her arms around my neck, her face nestling against my chest with a soft sigh that sent an unexpected wave of warmth through me. Our apartment was quiet when we entered, with only a few small lamps casting a warm glow in the darkness. Mrs. Hughes had already gone back to her own residence, and Eleanor's dog was curled up asleep in his bed, barely stirring as we passed. I carried Eleanor directly to the bedroom, gently laying her on the bed. When I tried to straighten, her arms remained locked around my neck. "Don't go," she whispered, eyes still closed.

"I'm just going to get you some water," I assured her, carefully untangling her arms. 1/2 Looking down at her sprawled across the bed in her wrinkled dress, makeup smudged and hair disheveled, I realized she couldn't possibly sleep comfortably like this. She needed to change into something suitable for sleeping, and in her current state, she couldn't manage it alone. The thought sent a ripple of unease through me. I walked to her closet, suddenly aware of how little I knew about her daily life-where she kept her things, what she preferred to sleep in.

After some searching, I found a silk nightgown that seemed appropriate and grabbed some makeup removal wipes from the bathroom. When I returned, Eleanor had shifted slightly but remained asleep. I hesitated, considering my options. The situation demanded a practical approach, nothing more. "Eleanor," I said, louder this time. "You need to change for bed." Her eyes opened halfway, unfocused and clouded with alcohol. "Derek?" she murmured, as if uncertain I was really there. "You need to change into something comfortable," I explained, keeping my voice neutral.

"I'm trying to help you." To my surprise, she smiled-a genuine, unguarded smile I hadn't seen directed at me in years. "You're so nice, Derek," she said, her words slightly slurred. "You've never been this nice to me before." Comments 5 Write Comments SHARE 2/2 Ruby Walker Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish.

Ruby's writing style is bold and irresistible-perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.