“It’s fine," Xyla Quest insisted. "I can walk on my own. I’m not that helpless.”
However, Stanley Batton ignored her and proceeded to carry her into the elevator to get to the first floor.
At that hour, the lobby was busy as some of the employees working overtime were also rushing to leave.
Everyone instantly focused their gazes on the couple as they stepped out, making Xyla feel a little embarrassed with so many pairs of eyes on her.
Suddenly, these people all felt envious of them both.
“Hello, Ms. Quest.”
“Hello, Mr. Batton.”
Employees began to greet them as they passed, prompting her to nod awkwardly while Stanley kept a neutral expression on his face.
“Put me down. Many people are watching,” she muttered, struggling to set herself free.
She felt even more mortified when she noticed people taking pictures of them.
However, it didn’t seem like her husband intended to put her down. Instead, he continued to walk outside.
“Listen to me,” she began to protest again.
“Be a good girl and let me carry you,” he said.
“I am honestly fine,” she stated.
“Be good.”
Seeing how determined he was, she could only let him have his way and remained quiet.
While everyone watched, Stanley carried her into his black Bugatti Veyron as if nobody else was around.
After they left, people began chatting in the lobby.
Stanley was completely focused on the task, with every move seemingly careful and gentle.
Xyla was intensely mesmerized by what appeared to be similar to a scene from an idol drama.
“Does it hurt?” he asked while he applied the ointment. He treated her leg as meticulously as if he was dusting an antique object.
She shook her head. “No.”
Feeling reassured, he continued to exert the same amount of force.
It was growing dark in the car.
She silently watched as he attended to her wound, feeling content.
Right then, employees had all exited the building.
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