Chapter 554 Goodnight, My Darling
"Behave yourself tonight, or I might just sue you!" Natalie threatened before finally closing her eyes to sleep.
Oliver carelessly thought: Sue? How? We're not even divorced yet.
Mr. Windsor completely forgot there's such a thing as the marital laws; criminal actions still apply within marriage.
After a long tiring day, drowsiness finally claimed Natalie. She kept watch over Oliver for a few seconds and, seeing no movement as if he were asleep too, she drifted off.
Oliver felt the person next to him turn and curl up into a fetal position like a little shrimp, confirming she was sound asleep.
Even though her leg had healed by now, she still maintained the habits she'd developed back then.
Her anxious habit of biting her lip sent a pang through Oliver's heart.
Minutes later, once Natalie had fallen into a deep sleep, Oliver cautiously turned to find, to his surprise, that she was facing him.
Her delicate face was nestled in the pillow, a lock of hair resting at the tip of her nose, moving slightly with each steady breath.
Oliver carefully brushed the hair aside, his eyes filled with a resigned amusement as he whispered, "Babe, you trust me that much?"
He wondered if he should be thankful for her trust, even when he sometimes doubted himself.
"Goodnight, my darling."
Leaning in carefully, Oliver kissed her forehead tenderly.
Then his hand slowly settled on her waist, feeling the slender curve that dipped deeply due to her position, a sensation that felt just right.
Fuming, Susan stormed back to her room. She had hoped Leonard would examine her injury, but after an interminable wait without any sign of him, and recalling his behavior throughout the day, her anger deepened.
While applying heat to the bruises on her body, she cursed the Lucas siblings and anyone else who had kicked her when she was down.
When Leonard finally returned, it was already past ten at night.
"What's your deal?" she demanded coldly as the door shut behind him.
There was a residual pleasure on Leonard's face. "Miss Susan, please make yourself clear."
His formal address only stoked her irritation. "Miss Susan? Leonard, I am your fiancée!"
Unfazed by his fiancée's outburst, Leonard's expression remained unchanged. "Of course, I know. Why else would I be here attending this event with you?"
"But, Leonard, look at what you've done today! You've been flirting with Natalie, you didn't stand up for me when she insulted me, and you even sided with her! Do you act like someone engaged to me?" Susan accused, her voice rising almost hysterically.
The smile on Leonard's face slowly twisted from pleasure to mockery.
"Susan, weren't these your own words? You don't love me, you just needed someone to get engaged and married to. We agreed on a mutually beneficial arrangement without interference. You even warned me not to harbor any inappropriate thoughts about you. You set these terms. What now, getting cold feet?"
Susan's face turned ashen.
It was indeed something she had said herself: although Leonard was a strikingly handsome man with impressive capabilities and came backed by the prestige of the Eastwood family, he was not their biological son but an adoptee, and his status had been questioned by some in the upper crust.
And no matter how wonderful Leonard was, he couldn't hold a candle to Oliver.
Susan even thought she had these three months between her engagement and the wedding to sway Oliver back into her arms.
She didn't want to marry anyone else; she wanted Oliver!
"Susan, ambition is a good thing, but don't overestimate yourself," Leonard said with a smile that seemed gracious but also carried the most devastating words, "Compete with Natalie? Your reputation is in tatters, your career in ruins, while Natalie is simply biding her time to return to the top. What do you have to challenge her with?"
Susan's eyes were burning with anger. She glared at the man in front of her, the very man she had chosen to be her fiancé, who belittled her while praising Natalie.
"Do you also have feelings for Natalie?" Susan asked with disgust.
"No—I just enjoy taking what others desire," Leonard thought to himself with a particular person in mind: Oliver.
In his hand, he fiddled with a small wooden token, a keepsake from Natalie, as a subtle smirk appeared on his lips.
He had no interest in wasting any more time with this woman and said, "Get some rest. If you're not at your best tomorrow, you'll only embarrass yourself."
The next day...
Upon waking, Natalie felt an unusual warmth and realized she was in a bizarre sleeping position.
Her eyes popped open in shock.
"Ah!" Her scream pierced the silence.
Incredibly, she'd been sleeping in Oliver's embrace!
She was practically lying on top of him, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand on his chest.
And Oliver? He was just lying there—properly, decently.
"Natalie, what are you yelling for?" Oliver, seeming to have been awakened by her scream, furrowed his brows slightly as he turned to look at her, emphasizing the word "you."
The implication was clear: I didn't make a sound, so why are you yelling?
He was the one being used as a pillow, the one being clung to.
"Uh..." Natalie quickly sat up, hurried to the foot of the bed in terror, and awkwardly licked her lips, feeling a twinge of guilt as if she had toyed with a handsome man without any intention of responsibility.
Oliver sat up smoothly, leaning against the headboard, his expression unreadable as he watched Natalie.
She felt his gaze on her, accusing and heavy, like she was leaving without a word of goodbye.
"I...I don't usually sleep like this, you know that," Natalie stammered, trying to defend herself.
Oliver's response was enigmatic, "You usually...?"
Natalie nodded in agreement.
Oliver remarked, "It's been two months since I last saw what you look like asleep."
Flushing with sudden self-consciousness, Natalie touched her nose, realizing she had forgotten that detail. "Well, it's not like I always used to be like this," she protested.
"You never know what new habits you've picked up living on your own these past couple of months."
Silence hung in the air.
Oliver, as if reading her thoughts, continued, "Do you expect me to force you to cuddle with me? To depend on me for comfort?"
No need for those heavy implications, Natalie smirked to herself, acknowledging there was no escaping the truth.
Natalie sat pensively at the foot of the bed for a moment before asking with a guilty conscience, "So... is your arm sore?"
Getting out of bed to change his clothes, Oliver answered without looking at her, "You asked me last night if it hurt, but that was all you asked."
His underlying message was clear: Is there even a point to your question? It feels meaningless, just like I don't want to reply.
Anyone can say "sorry, I didn't mean to," but words don't always translate into action.
Natalie opened her mouth, but found she had nothing to say, no argument to make. She could only get out of bed, grab her clothes, and head to the bathroom to change, deciding then and there to act as if nothing had happened.
Once she closed the bathroom door, Oliver's scowl from being woken up vanished instantly, replaced by a relaxed and joyful expression that danced in his eyes.
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