Ellison And Joycelyn A Love Beyond The Rules novel Chapter 6

"Well, if there's a need, both of us should cooperate," Joycelyn murmured, her cheeks flushing pink.

"Okay, let's go," Ellison said, his voice steady and sure. He turned and walked toward the elevator, Joycelyn trailing behind him, her heart pounding.

As they stepped inside, Joycelyn kept her head down, her wet hair dripping onto the floor. She looked like a lost puppy, shivering and small behind his commanding presence.

Despite his expensive suit being soaked and her broken suitcase in hand, Ellison maintained an air of calm composure as if nothing could ruffle him.

Relief washed over her. He had pulled her out of despair, after all. No woman could resist being cared for in her darkest moments, even if they both had their own motives.

"We're here," he announced as the elevator doors opened. He carried her suitcase out, glancing back at the girl, who still stood there, dazed.

"Oh," she murmured, quickly following him.

The villa was stunning, with cool gray tones that made the space feel crisp and refreshing, much like Ellison himself. Every detail was meticulously crafted, like a piece of art. She had never entered such a beautiful, spacious home before.

"The guest room hasn't been used. I'll get you bedding from my room. Go take a shower and change your clothes," he said, handing the suitcase to her.

His every word carried the authority of a superior. His voice was cool and commanding, brooking no argument. She didn't dare look at him, only nodding obediently. "Okay."

She dragged the suitcase with its broken wheel into the guest room. The space boasted a new bed and sofa, far nicer than her small room at home. Clean and bright, it was several times larger than her previous space, with its own bathroom. She felt a flutter of excitement.

Opening the suitcase, she froze. No wonder it felt so heavy—the broken case had let water seep in. All her clothes were soaked. She rummaged through everything, finding nothing wearable.

"All wet?" he asked, looking at her suitcase.

She bit her lip in frustration. "Yeah, I'll use a hairdryer later."

"I'll get you something to wear," he said and left the room.

She crouched on the floor, watching his soaked pant legs, her heart racing. Her skin felt hot enough to dry her wet clothes by body heat alone. As she gathered her clothes to wash, he returned with a black shirt.

"Use my bathroom. There's no hot water or shower gel here," he said.

She looked at the black shirt, lifting her wet face to reveal red, swollen eyes filled with timidity. She stood there gazing at him, clearly hesitating.

"Don't catch a cold. I'll help wash your clothes," he said, tossing the shirt at her and scooping up everything from the suitcase. The strength difference between them was stark—she had struggled to lift them.