No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1589

They spent some time chatting about work and life. Joy clearly had a few burning questions on the tip of her tongue, but seeing as Eleanor barely mentioned Ian, she decided to bite them back and stay quiet.

Around nine o'clock that evening, Evelyn finally returned home. Joslyn quickly whisked her away for a bath, and Eleanor lay down with her to help her settle in. With school starting the next morning, Eleanor couldn't let the little girl stay up too late.

Having a child meant strict discipline, especially when it came to a sleep schedule.

By ten, the little one was fast asleep, but Eleanor found herself completely wide awake. Her mind kept drifting back to Ian's illness. She had no idea if he had actually seen a doctor, and dragging out a low-grade fever was just asking for trouble.

She grabbed her phone and shot him a quick text: *Do you still have a fever?*

*I do. Do you have any medicine left?* Ian replied almost instantly.

*I do. I'll bring some over. Just take two pills,* she typed back.

*Thank you,* he replied politely.

Earlier in the day, Eleanor had asked Callie to look into the equipment transaction. Just as Ian had claimed, it was officially funded by The Guild of Commerce. Even if she had the money ready, she had absolutely no way to legally refund the purchase.

Whatever. Her head was spinning anyway. She got out of bed, grabbed the fever reducers and a glass of warm water, and walked through the adjoining doors into Ian's side of the house. She fully expected the man to be waiting for her in the main living area.

But the living room was completely dark and silent. Eleanor glanced up toward the second floor. Had he already gone to bed?

With no other choice, she climbed the stairs. As she reached the second-floor landing, she heard footsteps coming from the master bedroom. Ian appeared, wearing nothing but a plush bathrobe, his hair still damp from a fresh shower.

Seeing the woman coming upstairs to bring him medicine, a spark of unconcealed delight lit up his eyes.

"Feel for yourself if you don't believe me." Ian leaned forward, lowering his face so his forehead hovered inches from hers.

Eleanor immediately pressed the back of her hand to his brow. His temperature was completely normal. Annoyance flared in her chest. "Then why did you lie to me? Do you just enjoy wasting my time?"

Furious, she spun on her heel, ready to march right back downstairs. But before she could take a single step, two powerful arms banded tightly around her waist, hauling her flush against his solid frame. "Don't go!"

"Ian, let go of me," Eleanor snapped, trying to pry his fingers apart. She had genuinely been worried about him, and he had just played her for a fool.

But the man only tightened his crushing grip. The blistering heat of his body seeped through his robe, and his intoxicating, cedarwood scent instantly enveloped her senses.

"I just... wanted to see you," he breathed, his warm breath grazing the shell of her ear. His tone was laced with a desperate, pleading ache for forgiveness.