Chapter 396 The Next QY
<Chapter>Chapter 396 The Next QY</Chapter>
"Do I really come across as overly serious?" Steven queried, a hint of surprise in his tone.
Abigail hesitated before responding, "Not exactly... It's just that you have a rather formidable presence. It can be quite intimidating." She paused, studying him again before adding, "But now, you seem slightly more approachable, even if it's just by a minuscule amount."
To emphasize her point, she playfully pinched her fingers together, indicating just how tiny that amount was.
Hearing this, Steven's voice softened, "It appears I still have a considerable amount of room for improvement."
"No, no, no, you're already perfect. You're incredibly disciplined and ambitious, and you manage your schedule and emotions so well. You always handle problems with such calmness... Many in the company look up to you, thinking you're flawless."
"Some perceive me as a work machine, impersonal and downright dull."
"It's not like that," she countered, her voice laced with a certain admiration. "To me, you've always been a true gentleman, setting an example with your actions. You're a fair and decisive boss, and... a brother who dotes on his sister."
'A brother who dotes on his sister?' he pondered.
"Anyway, I think you're a really good person. You’re very kind-hearted."
Steven had never been openly praised by a girl before—not since his school days when the only compliment he received was for his good looks. At work, people simply saw him as stern. But Abigail was the first to incessantly sing his praises from all angles.
The warmth returned to Steven's gaze. "You should get some rest. I'll wake you up when we arrive."
"Okay."
Abigail wanted to rest too, but with her boss sitting in front of her sifting through documents, it created a certain pressure. She closed her eyes, and the image of the competition she had attended appeared in her mind. 'It's a pity the butterfly knot wasn't fastened correctly, and the upper half of the garment wasn't adjusted properly...'
After a while, she suddenly opened her eyes and turned to Steven, "Mr. Medici, may I borrow some paper and a pen?"
She was unable to get them herself because she was hooked up to an IV on his private jet.
"Sure, I'll get it for you." Steven stood and quickly retrieved the paper and a pen for her.
Inspiration flooded her mind, and she rapidly sketched out several dress designs on the paper—all with butterfly hems but with entirely different bodices.
Watching her sketch with such focus reminded him of her on the stage earlier that day—gracefully appearing against an idyllic backdrop, holding a delicate parasol, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Her retro hairstyle and slender figure in a perfectly tailored red dress had an aura of a bygone era—a mix of nobility and elegance distinctive to her heritage.
"Mr. Medici, what do you think?" Abigail called softly, waving her non-IV hand in front of him. "Mr. Medici? Did you hear me?"
Steven snapped back to reality.
In just a few minutes, Abigail had already completed seven or eight designs. He took the sketches and was surprised by the unique touch in each dress.
"Is it okay?" Abigail held her breath, awaiting her boss's verdict.
Steven nodded, "Not bad."
"Really?"
"You could be the next big thing."
Such high praise? These were words coming from the legend himself. Abigail was surprised, but even more so, thrilled.
"The company will thrive under your leadership," Steven said, handing back the sketches.
Abigail barely knew how she accepted those few sheets of paper; the only thing she was aware of was the unexpected happiness stemming from her boss's approval.
After a while, she surrendered to the pull of sleep, her eyes fluttering closed. Steven watched the young woman before him, his mind drifting back to an incident in the office. She had stumbled over the hem of her dress, time and again, falling into his arms.
In that moment, her face had flushed as red as a ripe apple, tears threatening to spill over, especially when her dress began to unravel at the seams. He had swiftly removed his blazer and draped it over her to shield her from further embarrassment. Yet, mortified, she had hurried out the door. It was an utterly adorable sight.
Abigail wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she could feel a light blanket being gently laid over her. 'It must have been Steven,' she thought, 'taking care not to let me catch a chill, fetching a thin blanket to cover me.'
She dared not open her eyes, but her breathing quickened. Then, she felt someone gently changing her IV bag. The man's movements were feather-light, as if fearful of waking her. Steven's tenderness and thoughtfulness warmed Abigail's heart.
After an indeterminate amount of time, the plane entered American airspace. Abigail had fallen asleep, and upon awakening, she found Steven by the coffee machine, making coffee. His tall, striking figure, coupled with his handsome face, was a sight for sore eyes.
"You're awake?" Steven noticed her gaze, and prepared a fresh cup for her, placing it before her, "Give it a try, see if it's to your liking."
Abigail noticed the IV needle was no longer in the back of her hand, "Did you remove it?"
"Mmhm."
She hadn't expected this man to be quite so skilled at removing the needle without waking her. 'His touch must have been gentle, perhaps even pressing down on her hand afterward.' With these thoughts, a blush crept into her cheeks again. She hurriedly took a sip of the coffee, only to pull a face at its bitterness.
Steven couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, "Can't handle the bitterness?"
"No, no, no, life's bitterness I can handle, and Mr. Medici's coffee... actually, I can drink it too!"
"No need to call me Mr. Medici in private," Steven said as he added three sugar cubes to her coffee, looking very approachable.
"So what do I call you? Steven?"
Right, she'd do like Abella did, to keep it friendly.
"Still bitter?" Steven looked her way again.
Abigail took a sip, not daring to admit it was still a tad bitter.
Steven added two more sugar cubes, "Try again."
"Mr. Medi—No, Steven, you're really attentive."
She hadn't said a word, but Steven had picked up on her aversion to bitter coffee and sweetened it twice.
Soon, the plane landed on a private airstrip.
"Steven, thank you for bringing me back home..." After disembarking, Abigail intended to hail a cab.
"There are no taxis around here."
"I can walk out a bit and catch one..."
"Abella asked me to take you home." Steven kept the car door open, "Get in."
In the end, Abigail climbed into his car.
As the driver was driving, Abigail and Steven made themselves comfortable in the back seat, their proximity unintentionally intimate. Abigail held her breath as the closeness made her tense.
To break the tension, she pulled out her cell phone and turned it on. Her screen lit up with a barrage of missed calls and texts. The person who'd called the most was her mom, Ashley. Abigail dialed back quickly, concern edging her voice.
"Mom, what's wrong?"
"Abi, did you make it back to the States? I was watching the stream; you collapsed during the event. Abella mentioned something about sabotage, poison aimed at keeping you from winning. Are you alright?"
During the nerve-wracking blackout when she couldn't reach her, Ashley had feared for her daughter's safety—Abella had mentioned on the live stream how torturous and painful the poison was.
"I'm fine, Mom. I'm in New York now."
"That's a relief." Ashley's voice relaxed as her worries subsided. "Don't worry about the company for now... come home first."
"Is something wrong?"
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
