The CEO’s Unspoken Love (Eleanor and Derek) novel Chapter 157

Chapter 157

Eleanor POV

I stepped out of the taxi, shivering as the cold January air sliced through my wool coat. The flower society’s monthly dinner had run later than expected, and 1 was exhausted from hours of polite conversation about hybrid cultivation techniques and spring exhibition plans. My cheeks still burned from the heated debate about sustainable growing practices that had dominated dessert.

I’d turned my phone off during the gathering-a rare indulgence to disconnect from the world for a few hours. Now, as I switched it back on while paying the driver, it buzzed repeatedly with notifications. Six missed calls within the past two hours, all from the

same person: Derek.

My stomach tightened instantly. Derek never called more than once unless something was truly urgent. Had something happened to Margaret? Or was this another of his impulsive attempts to force a conversation I wasn’t ready to have?

The taxi pulled away, its tires crunching over fresh snow. I looked up toward my front door and froze. A figure stood there, shoulders hunched against the falling snow, his tall frame unmistakable even in the dim porch light. Derek. Snow had collected on his shoulders and in his dark hair, dusting his eyebrows and the tips of his eyelashes. But what made my heart stop was the dark stain spread across the front of his expensive coat and down one sleeve-blood, unmistakable even in the low light.

“Derek?’ I called, panic rising in my throat as I rushed forward. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

He turned slowly, as if the movement required great effort. His face was unnaturally pale, his lips tinged slightly blue from the cold.

I have something to ask you,” he said, his voice hoarse and brittle.

“You’re covered in blood,” I said, my hands hovering over the stain, afraid to touch it. “We need to get you inside. Are you injured?”

He looked down at himself, as if noticing the blood for the first time. “It’s not mine,” he said distantly, then raised his eyes to meet mine. Those eyes that had always seen too much of me-more than I wanted to reveal-now seemed hollow with something that

looked alarmingly like despair. “I needed to see you.”

Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by confusion and concern. If the blood wasn’t his, then whose was it? And why was he standing in the snow outside my house instead of cleaning himself up?

“Whatever it is, you can ask me inside,” I said, fumbling with my keys, the metal biting cold against my fingers. “You look half

frozen.

When I tried to guide him inside with a light touch on his arm, he remained motionless, as if rooted to the spot. I took his hand to pull him along and gasped-it was like touching marble left outside in winter. The stark contrast between his icy skin and my warm

hand sent a jolt through me.

“Derek, your hands are freezing,” I said, tugging more firmly. This seemed to break his trance, and he followed me inside, moving

with the stiffness of someone who had stood in one position for too long.

In the warmth of my living room, Derek sat on the sofa without removing his coat, staring ahead without speaking. In the better

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Chapter 157

light, I could see the blood on his coat was dried, a rust-colored stain that spread across his chest like a morbid Rorschach test. Snowflakes melted in his hair, tiny droplets running down his temples like tears.

‘Stay here,” I said, my voice gentler than I intended. “I’ll be right back.”

I hurried to the bathroom and returned with a warm, damp towel and a dry one. Kneeling before him, I carefully helped him remove his coat. His white shirt beneath was also stained with blood, the sight making my stomach clench with worry.

‘Derek, whose blood is this? What happened?” I asked, setting the coat aside.

“A pregnant woman,” he replied, his voice distant. “Her husband hit my car. They needed help getting to the hospital.”

I nodded, deciding not to press for details. Instead, I focused on the task at hand. Lifting the warm towel to his face, I gently wiped away the melted snow and traces of blood that had transferred to his skin. The intimacy of the gesture wasn’t lost on me-1/was

touching him with a tenderness I’d sworn I wouldn’t show him again.

His eyes closed briefly at the contact, his breath catching. I moved to his hair, carefully dabbing away the moisture, my fingers occasionally brushing against his scalp. When his eyes opened, they fixed on me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. The space between us seemed charged with electricity, a dangerous current I knew all too well.

I’ll make some coffee,” I said, standing abruptly, needing distance from the intimacy of the moment.

As I waited for the coffee to brew, I tried to steady my sacing heart. What could have brought him here like this? The last time we’d spoken had been at the bar, when I’d left him and James arguing on the sidewalk.

Through the kitchen doorway, I could see Derek unbuttoning his bloodstained shirt, revealing the white undershirt beneath. The sight of him sitting in my living room, slowly removing layers of his carefully constructed armor, felt strangely intrusive and

intimate at once.

When I returned with two mugs of coffee, Derek had placed his folded shirt beside the coat. The white cotton undershirt revealed the contours of his chest and shoulders, a sight that sent an unwelcome flutter through my stomach. I placed a mug in his hands, deliberately wrapping his cold fingers around the ceramic.

“Here, I said softly, conscious of how the quiet room amplified every word. “Warm your hands.”

He stared at the coffee for a long moment before finally speaking. “Why would you do this?” he asked, his voice barely above a

| whisper.

“Do what?” I asked, confused by the question but more so by the broken quality in his voice.

“Why would you still be kind to me after what I’ve done? His eyes lifted to meet mine, and I was startled by the raw pain in them.

“Why didn’t you just leave me out there to freeze? It’s what I deserve.”

I sat down across from him, cradling my own mug. The steam rose between us, fragrant and warm, a stark contrast to the cold

tension that filled the room. “Derek, what’s going on? Why are you saying these things?”

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His gaze was so intense it almost hurt to meet it. The usual cool calculation that characterized those eyes was gone, replaced by something feverish and desperate. “Is there something you’ve been keeping from me, Eleanor? When were you going to tell me that you suffered from depression because of me?”

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The CEO’s Unspoken Love