The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 1025

It was a complicated mix of eager anticipation and nerve-wracking tension.

By nine-thirty, the dinner wrapped up, but a few coworkers suggested keeping the party going at a club.

The majority of the group was totally on board, loudly debating which spot to hit. Katrina had zero interest in going, so she quickly formulated an excuse. "You guys go have fun. I really want to head to the hospital to see my mom. I've been so swamped lately that I haven't had time to just sit with her."

Her colleagues all knew her mother was battling terminal cancer, so they didn't pressure her. The loud, rowdy group waved goodbye and headed out.

As Katrina walked down the stairs, she shot Naylor a text.

*Are you done on your end? If you're busy, I can just grab a ride back myself.*

*I'm not drunk, and it's still early. I'll be perfectly safe.*

She sent the two messages and waited. Five, then six minutes passed with no reply.

Just as she was starting to get frustrated, her phone rang. But it wasn't Naylor—it was his assistant.

"Ms. Lester, Mr. Wilson accidentally dropped his phone, and it won't turn on. Are you finished with your dinner?"

Katrina replied, "Yes, we just wrapped up. I'm actually downstairs right outside the entrance."

"Oh, great. Mr. Wilson had a bit too much to drink, so I'm having someone help get him to the car. Just hang tight by the doors, and we'll pull around to pick you up."

Hearing that Naylor was so drunk he needed physical help just to walk made Katrina's chest tighten with worry.

Before she could say anything else, she heard muffled voices on the other end, and the call disconnected.

Katrina had no choice but to wait by the entrance.

About five minutes later, Naylor's luxury sedan pulled up from the underground parking garage.

As Katrina walked down the steps, the assistant opened the back door for her.

"Ms. Lester, would you mind sitting in the back and keeping an eye on Mr. Wilson?" the assistant asked politely.

Katrina couldn't exactly say no.

The second she slid into the backseat, the heavy stench of alcohol hit her. It completely overpowered whatever faint smell of wine lingered on her own clothes.

She turned to look at him. The "drunk" man was clearly awake, but the smile on his face was hazy, and his eyes had a glazed, unfocused look to them.

"Have you been waiting long?" Naylor asked.

"No, I just got down here a few minutes ago," Katrina replied.

The car pulled smoothly away from the curb and merged into traffic.

As the vehicle swayed gently with the turns, the two of them in the back seat naturally shifted closer together.

Katrina's hand accidentally brushed against Naylor's leg.

Feeling incredibly awkward, she discreetly tried to pull her hand back.

Naylor's eyes narrowed slightly, catching her subtle movement.

"How much did you drink tonight?" Naylor asked, initiating the conversation.

Katrina instinctively raised her hands, feeling the solid, heavy weight resting against her thighs. She didn't know whether to laugh or scream.

In fact, she suspected Naylor was doing this entirely on purpose.

Purposely getting drunk, purposely playing the victim to garner her sympathy, and purposely making their dynamic even more ambiguous!

"Hurry up, massage it for me." Naylor acted like a total tyrant, grabbing her hands again and physically pressing them to his scalp, forcing her into the role of his personal masseuse.

Katrina pressed her lips together. She desperately wanted to call his bluff, but glancing at the driver and the assistant in the front seats, she swallowed her pride.

She slipped her fingers into his hair, applying even pressure as she slowly massaged his scalp.

Naylor closed his eyes, completely silent, clearly luxuriating in her touch.

"Move down to my temples a bit..." he casually ordered.

"..." Katrina didn't even bother replying, but her fingers obediently shifted to his temples to continue the massage.

The car was dead silent. Even though there were four people inside, the air felt frozen. The only sound was Naylor occasionally letting out a soft hum of approval, which only made the confined space feel even quieter.

As the car occasionally swayed, the man's head gently shifted against her lap.

Perhaps the massage really was hitting the spot, because his breathing gradually deepened and steadied, and he stopped making any noise at all.

Katrina looked down and realized he seemed to have fallen asleep.

Testing the waters, she slowly lessened the pressure and stopped.