Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
“Should we help Mrs Laurent change into something dry?”Sebastian stood.
“Give me the clothes.”The maid hesitated but handed them over.
“Leave the room.”Everyone cleared out.
Sebastian crouched down beside the bed and gently pulled away the duvet.
The white dress clung to her body like a second skin, soaked through, transparent in all the wrong places.
He pulled one of the thick towels off the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Eleanor,” he said softly, brushing a wet strand of hair from her cheek.
“I need to get you dry. You’re safe now. It’s me. Sebastian.”She flinched when he tugged at the zipper on her dress, a feeble jerk that didn’t last.
Her fingers gripped his wrist for a second, then let go, as if recognising his touch,
“You’re safe now,” he murmured again.
“It’s just me.”He peeled the dress off, slowly, carefully.
Her skin was cold and slick, goosebumps running up her arms.
He draped the first towel over her and started drying her off, slow circular movements, paying attention to her limbs, her back, her neck.
She didn’t protest, not really.
She just shivered, chest rising and falling like she couldn’t quite settle into her own body.
Then came the bra and panties.
Sebastian hesitated, the towel paused mid-air.
Her bra and panties were soaked through.
Not a good idea to leave them on.
Eleanor squirmed when he reached for the bra clasp, but his voice cut through the fog again-low, steady, close to her ear.
“It’s me. Sebastian. You’re safe now.”Her breath hitched, then she went still.
He stripped off the last of the soaked fabric, towelled her off again and reached for the change of clothes.
A white dress shirt and suit trousers, both at least two sizes too big They were his.
There were women in the house-his brother’s wife, his stepmother-but the idea of Eleanor wearing anything of theirs made something primal crawl under his skin.
He slipped the shirt over her shoulders, buttoned it up, rolled the cuffs.
The trousers he folded at the waist and cinched loosely with one of his ties.
She looked like she’d wandered out of his closet half-asleep, hair damp, skin flushed, drowning in layers of fabric.
Her eyes were barely open.
She was somewhere else entirely.
Sebastian stood and shifted his weight, running a hand over his collar like it was strangling him.
His own suit was drenched and clinging to him, but he didn’t care.
Eventually, Eleanor’s breathing started to even out.
Her lashes stopped twitching.
She wasn’t shivering as much.
He stayed.
A maid returned with a hairdryer.
Sebastian took it, set it to the lowest and least noisy setting, and gently worked through her hair with his fingers as the warm air puffed softly.
Eleanor didn’t let go of his shirt the entire time, her hand clenched in the fabric.
A knock.
Another maid stepped in, balancing a tray.
“Here’s the hot chocolate you asked for, Mr Laurent.”Leave it on the table.”He stayed by her side, her fingers still twisted in his shirt, murmuring to her under his breath. Over and over.
“You’re safe.”
“I’m here.”
“You’re safe now.
Gradually, her shivering stopped.
She curled into the blanket he’d tucked around her and didn’t move Sebastian stood, eyes scanning her face.
She looked young like this. Defenceless.
Barely recognisable as the woman who’d once dragged him off a bar stool and hauled him into the nearest hotel room.
He turned to the maid.
“Stay with her. If she wakes up, get her anything she asks for. And inform me immediately.”
“Yes, Mr Laurent.”He lingered for a second longer, then walked out.
In another room, he changed into a fresh suit.
Pausing at the top of the staircase landing, he surveyed the crowd below.
Quentin was flapping a towel uselessly around a woman, who sat on a sofa, dripping, face pale.
She had clearly taken a dip.
Hair soaked, dress plastered to her skin, mascara running down in tiny rivulets.
But otherwise, her breathing was easy, her eyes clear, her voice functional.
Sebastian stepped into the living room.
The crowd silenced instantly, then shifted, parting without being asked.
Isobel stood up immediately, her spine snapping straight, an automatic response of most people when they met Sebastian face to face for the first time.
“Mr Laurent,” she said with wide eyes and forced concern, “how’s Eleanor? I hope she’s okay.”
“She’s resting.” His tone could’ve iced a cocktail.
“What happened.
She repeated the little monologue she’d just fed the others-high school, old friends, catching up, slippery tiles.
“She must’ve panicked,” Isobel added, wringing her fingers.
“When she slipped, she just grabbed for me. I don’t think she even realised it.”Quentin eased forward gingerly.
“Sebastian, um, can I use one of the rooms upstairs? Isobel’s soaked through. She’s freezing. I want her to change into something dry.”Sebastian didn’t look at him.
“Just a second.”Then he pivoted back to the star of the sob story.
“You’re telling me Eleanor pulled you into the water?”Isobel blinked rapidly.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
A second too long passed.
She gave an involuntary shudder, this time not from the cold.
“I mean… I guess she did, sort of. She was probably just startled. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.”Her eyes slid away.
Sebastian’s fingers twitched.
The urge to physically yank the truth out of her was visceral.
He didn’t, of course.
But it sat there, humming under his skin like static.
And maybe with someone else, it worked.
Without Eleanor here, Isobel must have thought she could spin whatever tale she liked.
But Sebastian trusted Eleanor.
Even if she’d been half-drowned and lirious, towel and bad acting.
“Are you sure that’s what happened?” he asked, giving Isobel missed it completely. trusted her more than he’d ever trust a stranger wrapped in a damn last chance to come clean.
Her fingers clutched at the terry cloth.
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, it all happened: so fast…”If I pull the surveillance footage, will it back up your version?” Sebastian asked.
She didn’t know the cameras had been turned off at the request of a few privacy-obsessed guests.
And Sebastian wasn’t about to enlighten her.
Panic hit her eyes.
Isobel turned to Quentin with a desperate look.