177 Don't You Recognize Your Own Husband

"I'm not the villain here! You are!" Evelyn slurred, her words heavy with the defiance only alcohol could bring.

Alexander let out a low chuckle, utterly charmed by her drunken boldness. He reached out and playfully squeezed her cheek. "Evelyn, darling, wake up. Don't you recognize your own husband?"

Evelyn's brow furrowed in confusion. "My husband? Since when am I married?"

She batted his hand away. "You're definitely not him."

A shadow crossed Alexander's face, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Evelyn, I've told you before. Don't say things you'll regret."

Her lower lip pushed out in a stubborn pout, ready to argue.

"If you keep talking nonsense," he murmured, leaning so close she could feel his breath, "I'll have to kiss you."

Evelyn's eyes flew wide with alarm. She instantly clamped both hands over her mouth, a physical barrier against his threat.

"Villain..." she grumbled from behind her hands, shooting him a look that could kill.

Alexander leaned back with a soft snort of amusement.

He couldn't quite figure out if she was truly this drunk or just putting on a masterful performance.

Even in her supposed stupor, her sharp awareness of her surroundings was undeniable. Her cleverness, it seemed, was ever-present.

He didn't have time to dwell on it. Keeping his expression neutral, he addressed the driver. "Take us home."

"Right away, Mr. Blackwood," the driver replied.

Alexander's mind flashed back to Evelyn's first drunken episode, the sheer chaos she had unleashed. A thread of anxiety wound through him. He sincerely hoped there would be no repeat performance tonight.

If they were alone, he might have even enjoyed her playful antics.

But not here. Not with an audience.

Fortunately, the motion of the car seemed to soothe her.

The effects of the single drink faded quickly. Soon, her head lolled to the side as sleep claimed her.

Alexander noticed her head dangerously close to the window. Gently, he guided it to rest against his shoulder.

Sound asleep, Evelyn instinctively snuggled closer, nestling into the crook of his neck.

A faint smile touched his lips. He found a blanket in the car and carefully draped it over her, ensuring she was warm.

Soon, the car pulled through the gates of Serenity Oaks.

Seeing the coast was clear, Alexander decided to leave his wheelchair in the car. He carefully lifted Evelyn into his arms, carrying her bridal-style from the car, through the quiet vi, and straight to her bedroom.

Evelyn slept on, undisturbed. He moved with extreme care, not wanting to wake her.

Finally, he laid her gently on the bed and allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief.

He carefully removed her coat and shoes, then tucked the blanket securely around her.

He stood for a moment, simply watching her sleep.

He couldn't suppress another smile, a wave of warmth spreading through his chest.

He turned to leave, his expression a complex mix of tenderness and unresolved longing.

Suddenly, Evelyn stirred. "It's so hot..." she mumbled in her sleep, restlessly tugging at the collar of her blouse.

Alexander turned back to see her pulling at her clothing, the fabric gaping to reveal a glimpse of skin usually hidden from view.

His eyes darkened instantly. His breath caught in his throat.

He took a sharp, steadying breath and returned to the bedside. Fighting down a surge of desire, he carefully readjusted the blanket, covering her properly.

"Stay still, alright?" he whispered softly.

Evelyn's eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze was hazy, unfocused. Her hand reached out, grasping the hand that held the blanket. "Don't go..." she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

He stared intently at her face, flushed from the alcohol, her sweet scent enveloping him.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice a low, tender rumble, afraid to break the spell.