The CEO’s Unspoken Love (Eleanor and Derek) novel Chapter 175

Chapter 175

Eleanor POV

I woke with a start, disoriented by the soft glow of afternoon light filtering through the curtains. My head still felt heavy, though

the stabbing pain had subsided to a dull ache.

For a moment, I lay still on the sofa, wrapped in the blanket. The quiet of the house was interrupted by a sound from the entryway

-the distinct click of the front door, followed by the rustle of paper bags.

Derek appeared in the doorway between the foyer and living room, balancing several grocery bags in his arms. Snowflakes still melted in his dark hair, creating tiny droplets that caught the light. Outside the window behind him, Boston had transformed into a winter wonderland, thick flakes swirling down from a steel-gray sky. The weak January sunlight filtered through the curtains, catching his silhouette and making him appear impossibly tall and substantial against the swirling white backdrop.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and warm.

I pushed myself up to sitting, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “You’re back already?”

“It is past noon, Eleanor,” he called from the kitchen. It’s nearly three. You’ve been asleep for hours.”

I blinked in surprise, glancing at the ornate clock on the mantel. He was right.

Derek reappeared, his suit jacket removed, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I noticed he was already wearing the leather house slippers he’d always kept by the door-a detail that struck me as strangely intimate, as if he had never left. He approached, pressing

the back of his hand to my forehead with practiced efficiency.

Still warm, but better than this morning,” he murmured, his brow furrowing with concern. “Have you taken your medication?”

“How did you get in?” I asked instead of answering his question.

Something flickered across his features-perhaps hurt, quickly masked. “You don’t remember? That night at the bar when you had too much to drink, I took you home. You told me yourself the code was your birthday.”

I searched my memory but found nothing. “No.”

“Well, you did. His fingers lingered at my temple, cool against my fevered skin.

“If you knew the code yesterday, why did you knock instead of just coming in?” I asked, suddenly realizing the inconsistency.

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting I should have let myself in unannounced? I may not be perfect, Eleanor, but I’d like to

think I’m still enough of a gentleman not to invade a lady’s privacy.”

I felt a flush of embarrassment. He had a point, though I wasn’t about to admit it.

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Chapter 175

“I’m changing the code anyway,” I said, pushing myself up from the sofa. I wobbled slightly as I made my way to the front door.

“What are you doing?” Derek appeared at my side instantly, steadying me with a hand at my elbow.

‘Changing the door code,” I said, pulling away from his touch.

He frowned, then reached for his heavy cashmere coat draped over a nearby chair. In one fluid motion, he wrapped it around my shoulders. The weight of it was immediately comforting, and I caught the faint scent of his cologne woven into the fibers.

“Boston wind in January cuts like a knife,” he said, his voice softening. “Put this on first.”

I clutched the coat around me and moved to the electronic panel beside the door. Derek stayed close, watching with undisguised

curiosity.

‘Don’t look,” I said, turning my body to shield the keypad.

“Let me guess,” he said, a smile playing at his lips. “You changed it to my birthday.”

My fingers froze above the keypad, betraying me. Heat that had nothing to do with my fever rushed to my face. I felt exposed, as if

he could read every thought in my mind.

“I did not, I lied, but the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

Derek’s smile widened into something triumphant. “Someone still has me on her mind.”

I turned away, punching in a new code with more force than necessary. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“If you change it again, Derek said, reaching out to gently pull me away from the panel, ‘I’ll just find a ladder and climb through

your second-floor window.”

“That’s stalker behavior,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

He laughed, not at all offended. “Guilty as charged. Now come back to the sofa before you catch pneumonia on top of the flu.”

We returned to the living room, the warmth of the fire a welcome contrast to the chill by the door. Derek followed close behind me,

his presence filling the room in a way that made it seem smaller, more intimate.

“Why are you so guarded with me?” he asked, his voice taking on a teasing quality. “You freely gave me your door code when you

were drunk, and now you’ve changed it to my birthday. Yet here you are, acting like I might break in during a blizzard.” He gestured

toward the window, where the snow was falling with increasing intensity. “A gentleman like me is rare in Boston society, wouldn’t

you agree?”

A gentleman who can say such shameless things is rare in any society, Mr. Wells, I retorted, settling back onto the sofa.

Derek laughed, a genuine sound that warmed the room more effectively than the crackling fire in the grate. Outside, the snow

continued to fall, painting the world in silent white, while inside, something between us shifted imperceptibly.

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Chapter 175

He knelt before the fireplace, adding another log and adjusting the flame. The orange glow illuminated his profile, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the concentration in his eyes. I pulled his coat tighter around my shoulders, allowing myself a moment to

breathe in his scent-sandalwood and something uniquely Derek that I could never quite define.

“The soup will be ready soon,” he said, returning to the kitchen.

I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of him moving around my kitchen-our kitchen–with familiar ease. The clink of ladles against porcelain, the soft closing of cabinet doors. When I opened my eyes again, he was standing before me, holding a steaming

bowl.

“Can you sit up?” he asked, placing the bowl on the coffee table.

I shifted, making room for him on the sofa. Instead of handing me the bowl, he sat on the edge of the cushion beside me and

dipped the spoon into the golden broth.

“I can feed myself,” I protested, reaching for the spoon.

“What if I insist?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

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The CEO’s Unspoken Love