She arrived at the designated address: a nightclub, where things were starting to get lively.She headed within and found the room James mentioned.She opened the door then, and found…
It was not just Diarmuid inside
Zachary was there too, and the pungent scent of alcohol struck Abigail’s nose once she stepped inside! She had no idea how much Diarmuid had drunk, but it was obvious that Zachary had drunk a lot too, as he was sprawled limply on the couch, his cheeks clearly flushed even under the dim light.
He had already taken off his jacket and thrown it to a corner, while his collar was unbuttoned, revealing his reddish skin.
Abigail was frowning as she entered, and she went to check on Diarmuid first.
He was not dead-drunk like Zachary, and his cheeks were not red-it was likely that he was not the type who got flushed from alcohol.
Still, there was an unfocused look in his eyes as he watched her, and he held out a hand at her.
“You’re here.”
Abigail put her hand on his palm and sat beside him right then.
“How much did Zachary drink?”
Diarmuid did not respond but merely leveled her a meaningful look.
Getting the creeps from his stare, she averted her eyes and asked, “What’s that look for?’
“You’d ask about another man first, then show me some concern?”
“…You’re really drunk,” she said, giving him a look-he would never talk like that while sober.
Linking arms with him just then, she told him, ‘Let’s get you out of here.”
However, she was too scrawny to really carry him, so James came over with a suggestion.
“How about I get someone to send Zachary home, and then I’ll come back to help you?”
Seeing that Zachary was really drunk, Abigail said, “Sure.”
With that, James called in a waiter who helped carry Zachary out of the private room, leaving just Abigail and Diarmuid.
“Can you walk?” she asked him-she was presuming that he would need other’s help to leave the room even if he was not drunk.
“I’m not drunk.”
He squeezed her hand just then, and leaned toward her, his lips brushing against her ear.
“Abigail…”
Abigail sprang to her feet right then.She would not usually overreact like this—it was a knee-jerk reflex.
Even as she felt him inch closer with his alcohol-scented breath, she abruptly remembered Harvey kissing her.
She felt disgusted, though not at Diarmuid-she simply could not bring herself to be intimate with him ever since that incident.
Diarmuid appeared taken aback, though he soon appeared drunk again.
“Come here,” he said, holding out a hand.
Abigail pursed her lips.
“I didn’t mean to do that.”
Diarmuid understood, and therefore did not get upset or take offense.
In reality he did not drink that much to be drunk, and was just there to listen to Zachary complain-all the empty bottles were Zachary’s.
He was feigning drunkenness to try to get intimate with her, but she had yet to get over her trauma.
Even being too close would trigger an overreaction.
“Let’s get you home.Can you walk?” Abigail asked just then.
“I want to hold you,” Diarmuid said, tugging at her hand.
Abigail stared at him for seconds before eventually walking toward him-he took her hand and pulled her in, allowing her to drop on his lap, and he gathered her dainty figure within his arms.
From that close, she could clearly smell the fresh scent he seemed to carry, now added with a tinge of alcohol.
She worked hard to control her emotions, but she started to tremble a little.
All she could think about was the scene where she was defiled, and veins throbbed over her pretty neck from anxiousness.
“I…”
Her voice was hoarse when she tried to speak.
Diarmuid simply pressed her head against his chest.
“Forget it, Abigail.It’s not your fault.”
Abigail did not think so, however-if she knew what had happened, she would try to convince herself or selectively forget.
However, not knowing what had really happened only left her imagination running wild about what Harvey did to her while she was unconscious! Working hard to control her emotions, she said, “I have a question.You have to be honest.”
Diarmuid replied, “Okay.Mustering her courage then, Abigail asked, “Did you watch the whole video?”
She never dared to ask that question all this while.
“Yes.”
“Was I, really…?”
“No,” Diarmuid told her assuredly.
“He just wanted to upset me.He didn’t really do anything to you.”
In reality, the video was incomplete and he had no idea how far Harvey went, but he told her with such assurance anyway just to get her to let it go.
“Really?” Abigail asked expectantly.
“Yes,” Diarmuid replied with assurance.
She lowered her then, her shoulders shaking-she did not want to cry, but her nose was getting runny anyway.
Ever since what happened, she felt inferior to Diarmuid from the depths of her heart, as if she was filthy.
Naturally, she felt much better after she received such assurance from him, and was smiling despite her tears.
“Thank you.”
Even if he said it just to comfort her, she felt confident again.
She sniffled.
“Sorry.I’m pathetic.”
Diarmuid ran his fingers through her hair.
“Just cry if you want to.There’s no need for disguises with me.”
Nonetheless, Abigail wiped her face and raised her chin.
“I’m not going to cry.She was strong, proud, courageous, and invincible.However, that left Diarmuid with a dark look in his eyes.Was she refusing to let herself be vulnerable around him, even for just a moment? Still, he wrapped his arms around her.
“Let’s go home.”
“Okay,” she replied, and they left with his hand around her shoulder.
When they stopped outside, however, they ran into a couple with their hands wrapped around each other as they kissed each other fiercely-as if there was no one around them! Abigail was left speechless and she averted her eyes as she blushed.
Diarmuid lowered his gaze to study her red cheeks, his lips curling up-she was still so innocent.
They soon left the nightclub and got into the car.
Abigail was driving, but before she started the ignition, she realized something and turned toward him.
“You aren’t drunk, are you?” She realized with a start when Diarmuid said nothing.
“You trick me,” she grumbled.
“I won’t believe you ever again, liar.”
“Who would you believe in, if not me?”
Diarmuid held her shoulder so that she faced himself, and said, “I’m actually really drunk.”
He leaned toward her as he spoke, and Abigail watched as his lips inched closer, and worked hard to restrain her misgiving so that she would not avoid him.
His warm lips gently touched hers and he pulled away without staying too long.
He did not push his luck, because he knew that it was a gradual process if he wanted Abigail to recover to her original state.
Abigail lowered the window, allowing fresh air into the car.
As her head cleared, she started the car and drove off.
She suddenly remembered the mess at Hotmesh Research.
“Are you still upset?’ “About what?”
“That I didn’t leave Finn Crowe to you,” Abigail said.
“Iam,” Diarmuid growled, reclining against his seat.
“Well, that’s because my work is different from yours,” Abigail explained.
“You’re an executive and everyone under you must work hard, so it’s no issue if you have strict standards.On the other hand, my job requires teamwork-experiments have to be carried out in pairs or trios.If I can’t get the people at the research center to willingly work with me, I’d have a hard time getting any work done in the future.Do you get it?”
Diarmuid certainly did not think that far, and he then understood that his job and work environment entailed different things from Abigail’s.
“I do.”
“So? Are you still upset now?” Abigail asked.
Diarmuid cast her a sideways glance.
“I’ll calm down if you agree to a condition of mine.”
“Shoot.”
Diarmuid mused to himself for a moment and said, “Sleep in bed from now on.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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