Chapter 536 Keep a Low Profile. Don't Die Too Fast
After ten minutes, Dermot began to tire, feeling himself nearing defeat.
He was surprised and frustrated at his own weakness.
Thud!
A punch from the man landed on Dermot's cheek, and he stumbled backward repeatedly.
The man didn't give him a moment to recover and unleashed a flurry of blows on Dermot.
Just as Blake had instructed, the man wasn't out to take Dermot's life. Otherwise, Dermot would've been dead by now.
Soon, Dermot was down on the ground.
"Stand down," Blake instructed his man, then approached Dermot and looked down at him.
Blake said authoritatively, "You've got some talent, Dermot, but it's not quite enough here in Colombia. Lucky for you, you ran into me today. If it were anyone else, you'd be dead. Consider this a warning. Keep a low profile until you're strong enough, or you won't last long."
After those words, Blake left.
As he walked away, he paused to add, "Evelyn is now Lady Kyte, and you, as you currently stand, are not worthy of her. Be wise and stop pursuing her. You are not from the same world."
With that, Blake left, and Dermot picked himself up, dusted off his sleeves, and drove away.
Dermot wasn't too upset about the defeat. He was young and figured he could win another day.
What stung the most were Blake's parting words.
“Not from the same world? Bullshit! Evelyn is mine. Had always been, and always would be.
“As for Blake... Even as Evelyn's father, he has no right to make decisions for her.”
Dermot drove home, feeling every bruise from the tough beating he'd caught tonight, his body aching all over.
He sat on the couch, about to strip off his shirt to inspect the damage, when the doorbell rang.
Frowning slightly, he wondered who it could be at this hour.
As curiosity seized him, he was already on his feet, opening the door to a surprising sight—Evelyn.
"What brings you here?" he asked instinctively.
Evelyn didn't answer, her gaze focusing on the bruises around Dermot's eyes.
The painful-looking hue was so evident that any of Dermot's attempts to downplay it sounded feeble, "Just had a little tumble."
Hearing his explanation, Evelyn was unimpressed. "Do you take me for a fool?"
Dermot stayed silent as she stepped inside. "Come in, let me have a look."
After all, Evelyn was a doctor, and assessing injuries was her forte. She only wondered if Dermot hid any other wounds.
The video Greg sent her showed him getting severely beaten to the point he couldn't even stand.
"Hmm," Dermot grunted, following her to the living room, and sat down on the sofa.
"Take off your shirt," she commanded.
"Um..." For some reason, under her piercing gaze, he felt a bit shy.
Evelyn rolled her eyes at him. "Hurry up. Stop playing coy with me."
She knew Dermot well enough to realize he was anything but timid.
The man cleared his throat in an attempt to alleviate the awkwardness. Shedding his shirt, his injuries were unveiled.
Truth be told, Dermot had taken a serious beating. Bruises marred his chest and back. Hardly an inch had been spared.
Fortunately, there were no open wounds, or he'd have been bleeding out.
Evelyn fetched some bruise balm and started massaging the tender areas, asking softly, "Does it hurt?"
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
