Come To Me (Amelia and Patrick)

Helplessly, she had no choice but to ask the guards on patrol for help. It took two guards to carry Patrick back in the house..

Still, she did not want to disturb her new family's rest. Once they were at the house entrance, she had to once again take on the weight of her husband alone.

She had a glimpse of Patrick just as she was panting from the heavy lifting. All she smelled was a pungent rush of alcohol from his breath and clothes. Pushing down her strong urge to throw him into the swimming pool, step by step Amelia dragged him past the house's entryway.

While Amelia was struggling to move, Patrick slowly regained consciousness.

Staring down at the little head of his wife's, he once again took advantage of his new identity as Amelia's husband, "Mrs. Hopper, water please..."

For a moment, she almost fainted after hearing Patrick calling here Mrs. Hopper with his grave yet soothing voice.

"Feeling better now? Can you walk to the living room on your own?" she asked.

"Yea." Despite his response, Patrick did not want to get off her at all.

His long arm had unconsciously wrapped around her tiny waist. Something was about to change.

Patrick had turned the tide: from leaning on Amelia to embracing her petite body.

She could only pretend that he was not entirely sober, had to keep moving while ignoring whatever Patrick was trying to do.

At this moment, Patrick was breathing on Amelia's neck, appreciating the sight of her beautiful neck, and was eager to give it a kiss.

However, in the next second, with all her might Amelia slammed Patrick like a wrestler on the sofa in the living room.

Seeing Patrick's pale face, Amelia thought that he hurt his butt. Unexpectedly, he touched his fresh wound on his palm.

"Let me get you a glass of water. Be right back." After a pause, she noticed Patrick deliberate kept his right hand away from everything. She couldn't help asking, "What's wrong with your hand?" Patrick's eyes darkened. "It was an accident."

Amelia nodded and went to get him a glass of warm water. After watching Patrick gulping it down, she said, "Where is the first aid kit at home? I'll get it."

"There is one in my bedroom."

"Okay."

Seeing Amelia had been hustling around for him since he came back, Patrick suddenly felt that it was kind of nice to have a woman looking after him at home.

After Amelia poured some Merbromin on a ball of cottonwool, she attentively observed Patrick's facial expression, "Tell me if it hurts."

Patrick chuckled, thinking she was teasing him.

Amelia did not intend to make fun of Patrick. When dressing with the wound, she found that some small glass shards remained in Patrick's palm. She had to take them out with a pair of sterilized tweezers before she could help cover the wound with ointment.

In such procedure, any average man might yell and cry for the pain to stop, but Patrick was no average men. No matter how deep her tweezers dug in his hand, he remained silent.

After applying the medicine and wrapping his hand with gauze, she closed the first aid kit and reminded him, "Be careful with the bath later. Don't get your hand wet or it might get infected."

Patrick looked at his right hand calmly and said with a straight face, "Well, since I'm injured, can you bathe me?"

Amelia's beautiful face was slightly heated up, and she almost applauded for Patrick's perseverance.

If he hadn't helped her with Jessica earlier, she wouldn't give a damn about him. Looking at him crawling back after getting drunk from a nightclub, he was just another spoilt brat to her. "I'm tired. Gonna get some sleep now. Help yourself."

Seeing Amelia walking away without hesitation, Patrick had no reason to stay in the living room, so he followed her.

His shadow was casted on Amelia's body by the light like a mountain, an omnipotent guardian, a shadow that she cannot get rid of.

After entering the bedroom, Patrick looked at the king-sized bed. There was a white pillow on it and a dark blanket on it, same as usual.

However, it was the usuality that surprised Patrick.

"Where are you sleeping?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you that I slept on the sofa in front of the TV. Also, I found a cotton blanket in your wardrobe without asking. Hope you don't mind." There was not a trace of uneasiness on Amelia's face, as if they were supposed to be strangers, and she a guest of the house.

Patrick's eyes were dark like a black hole, and replied with no emotions, "Whatever you like."

After he walked into the bathroom, Amelia laid on the sofa and wrapped herself in the blanket.

Since Patrick had said he never agreed to get married, naturally she was not obligated to share a bed with him.

Besides the smell of alcohol, Amelia also sniffed a faint scent of perfume on his body. Amelia thought he must have had a 'great' time in the nightclub.

Thinking of this, Amelia closed her eyes with a peace of mind. The exhaustion she got from the day and Patrick's indifference made her feel much more relaxed. After a while, she really fell asleep. Then after some time, a set of footsteps approached.

Patrick came to the bed, with a towel hanging over his neck, soaking water dripping from the tips of his hair.

He coldly looked in Amelia's direction and saw she was sleeping soundly. He even had a wicked idea to wake her up and torment her. For some unknown reasons, he deliberately found the air-con remote and turned it down all the way from 26°c to 16°c.

The bedroom was so big that she couldn't feel any sudden change in temperature, but Amelia would probably have a rough night.