Chapter 152: Chapter 152: Boss, Take It Easy
Rhys Hawthorne had lived for twenty-four years, and while he’d had nosebleeds before, they were always due to physical injuries.
He’d never experienced one just from glancing at a woman.
He must have looked pretty foolish in Victoria Monroe’s eyes, standing there with a tray as blood dripped from his nose.
He was utterly embarrassed, yet he had to pretend to remain calm and composed.
Rhys "steadily" set down the tray.
Victoria quickly put on her pajama pants and rushed over to him.
If you called this sexy, then there were plenty of women in bikinis at the beach.
At least she was wearing boxers! Everything that needed covering was covered.
She took a tissue to wipe Rhys’s nose, "Young Master, are you okay?"
Rhys turned his head; he’d only seen her from a distance before, but now, up close, he couldn’t ignore it.
The thought of his intimate apparel being in the most private places, originally Rhys was bleeding from one side of his nose, but now it was both.
Victoria was so close, having just showered, her hair was still slightly damp, and the scent of her bath gel wafted towards him in waves.
This situation wasn’t much better than last night when she actively hugged him.
Rhys held a tissue to his nose and quickly headed for the bathroom, "Victoria, I’m fine, you should put on some clothes."
He then closed the bathroom door, looking at his reflection in the mirror, his ears flushed crimson.
He felt so silly, yet inside he was as sweet as honey.
Rhys finally understood why every time Victoria mentioned Julian, she smiled like a flower; just like now, whenever he thought of Victoria, he couldn’t help but grin.
As soon as Victoria left, his nosebleed quickly stopped, and he took a cold shower.
His pajamas were stained with blood, so he had to put on a robe.
Looking at the dirty laundry basket with the clothes Victoria took off last night, there were no women’s clothes on the boat, so he’d have to wash them himself to make do.
He didn’t even want to use the washing machine for her clothes; this was the first time young Master Hawthorne hand-washed a woman’s clothing.
Victoria heard the sound of water from inside and was worried about Rhys, "Are you okay? Is it still bleeding?"
"No, I’m fine." Rhys didn’t want her to know he was hand-washing clothes, and so his voice carried a hint of guilt when he answered.
Victoria grew more worried, afraid Rhys might be hiding an injury from her.
If it were her fault, she’d never be able to forgive herself.
Victoria, nervous, pushed open the unlocked door, and Rhys hadn’t expected her to come in.
Victoria saw the tall man bending slightly at the sink, his hands rubbing what appeared to be her underwear.
"Boom!"
Now it was Victoria’s turn for her mind to explode.
Rhys swallowed and tried hard to remain calm as he explained, "My yacht’s never had a woman aboard, it’ll take at least ten days or half a month before we return home, intimate clothes aren’t good in the wash, so..."
Even though he tried to remain calm, the faint unease was evident in his voice.
Victoria had just promised him she wouldn’t see him as a weirdo!
Victoria’s first reaction was that this high-and-mighty man actually lowered himself to wash her clothes.
How could she deserve this!
She knew Rhys was a good person but never expected him to be this considerate.
Warmth surged through her heart, and her eyes grew slightly moist.
Besides her grandmother, only Julian had cared for her like this before.
But now both had left her life in different ways.
Just when she thought she was alone, this golden little master’s son gave her comprehensive care.
Especially after just experiencing the highs and lows of life, what Victoria needed was compassion.
Seeing her eyes turn red, Rhys hurriedly turned off the tap and approached her, wiping his hands on his robe.
His voice no longer calm, now tinged with a husky panic, "Sorry, I just wanted to do something for you, I’m not a perv..."
Before he could finish the word "pervert," Victoria unexpectedly threw herself into his arms.
Rhys was bewildered, unclear about the woman’s rapid change of thought.
He didn’t even dare to put his hands on her, afraid she might misunderstand.
So he stood there stiffly, waiting to see what would happen.
He certainly didn’t have much experience comforting women, his most frequent observation being his father coaxing his mother from outside the door after angering her.
At home, the authoritative father would be outside lowering his voice, sweet-talking while knocking on the door.
Or he’d take advantage of her anger to sweep her into his arms and kiss her fiercely.
If the kiss lasted long enough, his mom would stop being mad.
Once she’d calmed down a bit, his dad would carry her back to their room and lock the door.
At that time, the housekeeper would take him back to his room to sleep early so he wouldn’t go looking for his parents at night.
But he always worried since his father’s expression looked as if he wanted to devour his mother, would he hit her if they fell asleep?
Then he’d think, most of the time it was his mom hitting him, he probably wouldn’t hit a woman.
The next morning, either his mom got up late, or when he came downstairs, she’d be tying his dad’s tie, picking up his briefcase, and handing his coat over.
The two of them would be all lovey-dovey, departing as his dad wrapped an arm around her waist and passionately kissed her.
Only when she couldn’t breathe and pushed him away, playfully hitting his chest, "The kids are watching."
His dad would always say with a smile, "No worries, I’m setting an example so they’ll cherish their wives in the future."
His mom would become coy, suddenly looking ten years younger, smiling teasingly, "Who needs your cherishing?"
His dad would whisper so close to her ear that he couldn’t hear what was said.
During moments like this, his dad often canceled all his social engagements, coming home early, then going back to their room with his mom.
Rhys also wanted to kiss away her tears, but their current relationship clearly wasn’t suitable for such intimate consolation.
All he could do was offer verbal comfort, "Don’t cry, Victoria."
Victoria’s cheek nestled against him, her tears soaking into his robe, disappearing instantly.
She choked out, "Rhys, thank you, really, thank you."
Rhys finally understood she wasn’t blaming him.
He gently wiped away tears from her eyes, brushing aside strands of hair stuck to her face with tears.
His gentle gaze fixed on her tear-streaked face, perfectly described by the phrase "beauty amidst tears."
His rough thumb comfortingly caressed her face, "Please don’t thank me in the future. Victoria, caring for you and the baby is my delight, you can always rely on me to be there."
Victoria bit her lip, nodded tearfully and hard.
Seeing her standing barefoot on the ground, Rhys leaned down to scoop her into his arms, placing her back on the bed.
He crouched at the bedside, cradling Victoria’s petite foot in his palm.
She meant to pull away, but the man clasped her slender ankle firmly.
He saw the unhealed scars on Victoria Monroe’s feet, a trace of ferocity flashed through his dark pupils, "How did this happen?"
He had immediately listed Julian Fordham as the prime suspect, his body emitting a chilly air, completely unlike the cute dorkiness he had shown when his nose was bleeding earlier.
Victoria Monroe said dejectedly, "On the day my grandmother passed away, I took off my high heels and walked barefoot with her on the island for a whole day."
Just the thought of that scene made Rhys Hawthorne’s heart ache.
"Rhys, when you saved me, did you see a glass jar containing..."
At that time, Rhys saving her was already fortunate enough, so Victoria Monroe didn’t dare to ask for too much.
But unexpectedly, Rhys told her, "Don’t worry, I saw how tightly you were holding it, guessed it must be very important to you, so I brought it along. It’s now placed in another room, being carefully attended to."
Victoria Monroe looked at him with reddened eyes, Rhys, he really...
"Thank..."
She wanted to continue, but Rhys interrupted, "Are you going to say thank you in front of others in the future as well?"
Just then, there was a knock at the door from Assistant Woods, indicating that breakfast was ready.
Rhys looked at the woman on the bed wearing his clothes. The clothes were too big for her, and with just one movement, half her shoulder was exposed, looking both cute and sexy.
He also understood Julian Fordham’s thoughts, not wanting anyone else to see such a beautiful sight.
Rhys got up and went to the doorway, personally taking the breakfast.
Assistant Woods looked at his bathrobe with a gossipy expression, lowering his voice, "Boss, take it easy."
A pregnant woman and a virgin.
That combination just doesn’t seem to fit.
But with their looks and bodies, Assistant Woods could imagine a hundred gigs of content.
They’re such a perfect match!
Perfectly in sync!
The door closed again, and Rhys served the porridge, allowing it to cool for a bit.
"Victoria, you eat first, I’ll go wash and dry your clothes, you can wear them later."
Victoria Monroe grasped his wrist.
The man turned back, and Victoria Monroe, with eyes clear and bright from crying, a touch of redness to the corners, murmured softly, "I’ll wash them myself later, you eat first."
With such a Victoria Monroe, even if she asked for the moon, he would fetch it for her.
Rhys didn’t say much more, accompanied her through the meal, silently noting her preferences.
Victoria Monroe got up, and Rhys’s pajama pants dragged on her like floor-length trousers.
She had to roll up both the cuffs and sleeves entirely, then went to the washroom to wash her clothes and put them into the dryer.
This was Rhys’s private yacht, and you could see photos in frames around the room.
Most were from his youth: surfing, sailing, skydiving, diving, skiing...
Completely opposite from her life.
She watched intently, unaware when Rhys had come up behind her, until his deep, husky voice sounded in her ear, "What are you looking at?"
He bent down, following her gaze, his breath inevitably landing on her soft earlobe.
Victoria Monroe’s body shivered slightly, as the area behind her ear was always sensitive.
The shiver of the person in his arms felt incredibly endearing to him, making him ease away slightly, "Did I startle you?"
"No, I was just looking at your past. Your life is really enviable. While you were skiing and surfing, Julian and I were still worrying about how to save up for a meal."
"If we’re talking about envy, I’m more envious of Julian Fordham."
He got to grow up with her, witness every phase in Victoria Monroe’s growth, and even enjoy all her beauty.
Rhys looked at the woman so close yet untouchable.
Imagining the times she spent with Julian Fordham.
That snowy night during a location shoot, she threw herself into his arms, he stroked her head while listening to her chirp away about how nice the crew was.
That night, she didn’t come for their scene rehearsal.
The conditions in the mountains were poor, their rooms happened to be next to each other. While showering, he could hear suppressed soft breathing sounds through the wall.
Even though Victoria Monroe was trying to suppress her voice, some sounds still leaked out intermittently.
Such sweet sounds had him dreaming, dreaming that the person pinning Victoria Monroe down was him.
Julian Fordham had her entire life; how could he not be envious?
Victoria Monroe didn’t understand his thoughts, just assuming the young master hadn’t experienced any hardships.
Rhys dismissed the inappropriate thoughts from his mind, "After you give birth and recover, you can hand the child to the servants, and I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Do you prefer skiing or diving?"
Victoria Monroe smiled helplessly, "You’re so busy, where would you find time to accompany me?"
"In the Hawthorne Family, the wife takes precedence over everything, and I haven’t even taken over the Hawthorne Family yet, so I’m not as busy as you think."
The word ’wife’ made her ears flush with redness, though the two weren’t truly married, but she had already agreed to cooperate with him.
Victoria Monroe figured he might be using her pregnancy perhaps also for inheritance rights.
"What if you inherit the Hawthorne Family?"
"I’ll still have annual leave, and wherever you want to go, I’ll accompany you."
His gaze was so focused, making Victoria Monroe’s heart race uncontrollably.
She immediately looked away, "Let’s talk about it later."
"Mm, no rush. First, focus on your recovery. Victoria, we have plenty of time."
Victoria Monroe felt like he suddenly cleared away the darkness in front of her, holding her hand and pulling her out of the abyss.
"By the way, you haven’t applied any ointment lately, have you? Your foot injury is also not fully healed, let me help you with it."
"No, that’s not necessary, I..."
He wouldn’t leave her safety unattended, "Be good, Victoria, listen, you caught a chill from falling into the sea, you must persevere, or you’ll feel uncomfortable later."
He took out the ointment, his gaze falling on her body, "Are you doing it yourself, or shall I help you?"
He had already seen her body, and Victoria Monroe felt there was no need for pretense, she said with a shy face, "I’ll do it myself."
Knowing her shyness, Rhys turned his back to her, listening to the rustling sound of clothes being removed behind him made his heart race.
Since she agreed to the proposal, he could no longer maintain his previous calm demeanor towards her.
Victoria Monroe’s voice came from behind, "Um, I’m ready..."
Turning around, Rhys saw Victoria Monroe had shed her tightly wrapped pajamas, covering herself with a towel from her chest to just above her thighs.
She covered her eyes with her hand, hiding the shyness in her eyes.
Rhys’s hand, coated with ointment, started spreading up from her ankle.
Victoria Monroe couldn’t help but let out a light moan, "Mm, slower..."
Noticing her expression seemed unusual, and thinking about her peculiarity last time, Rhys seemed to realize something.
His pupils deepened, his Adam’s apple moving repeatedly, his voice hoarse, "Victoria, are you... wanting?"