Oops I Banged the CEO novel Chapter 11

“If there’s a need, both partners should cooperate,” he said quietly.

“Alright,” Marico agreed without hesitation.

“Let’s go.” He turned and walked toward the elevator.

Yvonne, cheeks burning, trailed after him. She kept her gaze low, standing behind him in the elevator, water dripping from her hair and clothes—she looked for all the world like a stray puppy he’d picked up off the street.

Marico, on the other hand, didn’t show a hint of disarray. Even though his tailored suit was soaked and he was hauling her battered suitcase, he still radiated a calm, unruffled composure, that effortless air of elegance that set him apart from everyone else. It was as if nothing could shake the stillness at his core.

Yvonne’s tangled feelings gradually eased. After all, he was the only one who had pulled her out of the abyss. No girl could resist the feeling of being cared for so gently in a moment of despair, even if they both had their own reasons for being here.

They stepped out of the elevator. Marico glanced at her, his eyes lingering for a second on her dazed expression. “We’re here,” he said, carrying her suitcase into the hallway.

Startled, Yvonne snapped out of her thoughts and quickly followed him.

The villa’s interior took her breath away. Cool shades of gray washed over the walls and floor, giving the space a crisp, serene feel—so much like the man who lived here. But there was warmth in the details: sleek lines, elegant furnishings, and thoughtful touches everywhere she looked. The whole place felt more like a work of art than a house. She’d never set foot in a home like this before.

“My guest room’s never been used. I’ll bring you some fresh bedding from my room. Go ahead and take a shower and change,” Marico said, offering her the suitcase.

Every word from him carried the commanding presence of a boss, his tone cool and direct, the kind that left no room for argument.

Yvonne didn’t dare meet his eyes. She nodded obediently. “Okay.”

She dragged her damaged suitcase—now missing a wheel—to the guest room and pushed open the door. Inside, there was only a new bed and a plush sofa, but to her, it was a dream come true compared to the storage closet she’d been living in before. The room was bright, spotless, at least seven or eight times bigger than what she was used to, and it even had its own bathroom.

“Come to my room to shower. This bathroom doesn’t have hot water or any toiletries.”

Yvonne looked up at the shirt dangling in front of her, her damp face flushed, swollen eyes wide with uncertainty. She hesitated, gaze flickering between the shirt and Marico.

“Don’t catch a cold. I’ll go wash your clothes,” he said, tossing the shirt onto her shoulders and reaching into the suitcase to scoop out the soggy pile.

The difference in strength between them was almost comical—she’d struggled just to lift her clothes, but he gathered them up with ease.

For a moment, Yvonne was too stunned to speak. Marico, always so composed and dignified, was actually going to wash her clothes for her. She didn’t even know how to process that.

Watching his retreating figure, his silhouette blurred by the water still dripping from him, she felt her cheeks grow even hotter.