Trapped in the boss's embrace (by Katrina A) novel Chapter 116

Chapter 116 All Heading to Solhaven?

Damian muttered, more to himself than to Ethan, "If I go over there now, she'll freak out."

"Freak out?" Ethan frowned. "Why?"

"You wouldn't get it," Damian said, his tone icy.

And Ethan didn't. Not even a little.

One drove restlessly through the night streets instead of sleeping. The other followed in the shadows, careful not to be seen. 

What kind of strange cat-and-mouse game were they playing?

Damian's gaze lingered on Beatrice's distant taillights. Pulling out his phone, he mapped her erratic route—every stop was a pharmacy.

Of course.

His fingers flew across the screen as he made a call.

Meanwhile, Beatrice had nearly fallen asleep against the steering wheel.

She jerked upright, blinking hard, and turned the car toward home.

As she walked to her building's entrance, a familiar silhouette leaned against the wall—Ethan, looking unfairly good in his simple black tee and jeans, cradling a large box.

"Ethan?" She stopped short.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" Her eyes dropped to the package. "And what's in this thing?"

"I'm delivering medicine to Gordon," Ethan replied calmly.

"Gordon's sick?" Beatrice eyed the oversized container skeptically. 

This box could stock a small clinic.

"No, no," Ethan said quickly, shaking his head. "Just basic stuff. Gordon's not getting any younger—you know how little things start adding up."

"I see," Beatrice said, though her raised eyebrow suggested otherwise. She checked her watch pointedly. "But two in the morning?"

"It was an impulse," Ethan said, avoiding her eyes.

Beatrice's lips thinned.

Since when did impulses require midnight pharmacy raids?

The elevator dinged as they stepped inside.

Ethan studied her for a moment. "So what's your excuse for being out so late? Midnight snack run?"

"Oh, just some stomach trouble," she said with a dismissive wave. "Thought I'd grab some antacids, but everything was closed."

"Lucky for you I'm basically a walking pharmacy tonight," he said, grinning as the doors opened on the 13th floor.

Without waiting for an invitation, he followed her inside and dumped the box on her kitchen counter.

Beatrice handed him a water bottle while he dug through an alarming assortment of medications—everything from allergy pills to heart medication to...laxatives?

Good god, was Gordon falling apart?

"Ah-ha!" Ethan emerged victorious, shoving a few blister packs toward her. "Digestive aids. Take your pick."

"Thanks," she said, eyeing the mountain of remaining meds. "How much do I—"

"On the house," he interrupted. "Gordon's got enough to share."

Beatrice nodded, already making a mental note to replace them. As Ethan left with his suspiciously overstocked box, she dry-swallowed two pills and headed straight for bed.

Upstairs, Damian was on the balcony, swirling a glass of wine when Ethan returned.

"Well?" Damian's voice was deceptively calm. "What's wrong with her?"

Ethan stretched, yawning. "Just stomach trouble. Indigestion, probably."

The silence stretched.

So.

Dinner with me has literally made her sick.

Damian drained his glass, gaze fixed on the horizon.

Maybe I was pushing too hard.

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