Westley You Are Late Chapter 17
In that instant, the entire ballroom seemed to hold its breath.
Westley’s head snapped toward me, the color draining from his face.
When his gaze dropped to the hand settled firmly on my waist, the last of his certainty shattered, leaving only raw despair in its wake.
At some point, Westley’s father had appeared. He kicked Westley sharply in the leg.
“Have you made enough of a fool of yourself? Apologize to Mr. Sinclair. Now.”
Then he turned to Thatcher, his voice thick with apology.
“I am so sorry. I failed to control him, and I’ve allowed him to cause this disturbance.”
Thatcher’s expression remained impassive.
“As long as you understand. This isn’t the first time he has harassed my wife. If it happens again, I won’t be taking our families’ long-standing relationship into consideration.”
Westley’s father nodded quickly and gestured for his aides to remove his son.
As he was being led away, Westley looked back at me one last time.
His eyes were a maelstrom of confusion and disbelief.
I met his gaze for a second, then looked away and gently tugged on Thatcher’s sleeve.
“I’m a little tired.”
“All right. Let’s go home.”
Once we were in the car, I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes.
A moment later, a finger tilted my chin up.
I had no choice but to open my eyes.
Thatcher was watching me, his own eyes narrowed.
“Aren’t you going to explain yourself, Mrs. Sinclair?”
I blinked, feigning confusion.
“Explain what?”
“Still playing dumb?” he murmured, one hand settling on my waist and staying there. “If I’d been a minute later, would my wife have run off with her ex?”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“Saying it isn’t enough.”
I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then looked at him seriously.
“Thatcher, when I came out of that surgery, you were the first person I saw. I thought to myself then, as long as you’ll have me, I’ll go with you.”