My billionaire husband spoils me too much novel Chapter 122

She didn't know how she left... She just felt like she was in a daze.

When they returned to the Hopkins Family, the servants saw them covered in mud and were so shocked that they did not know what to say. The butler stood aside and tried to say in a calm tone, "Dinner is ready."

The dinner was already cold.

The grim-faced man did not say a word, as if he did not want to see her again. As soon as she came back, he turned around and went back to Eastern Garden.

"Young Madam, why don't you have some hot soup first?"

Nanny Faang noticed that Christina was in a trance and was frightened, so Nanny Faang did not ask her to wash and clean up, but immediately let her drink some hot soup to calm down.

Christina followed Nanny Faang to the dining room, sat down, and drank half a bowl of hot soup expressionless.

The food was tasteless.

Finally, Nanny Faang accompanied her back to the bedroom. As they walked, Nanny Faang couldn't help but whisper to her, "Young Madam, Young Master Patrick has been haughty since he was a child. There are some things that he doesn't want to say, so don't provoke him. You should only mind your own business in the Hopkins Family. Just ignore him."

Even if she wanted to, she couldn't meddle in Patrick's business.

Christina did not speak, her face still a little pale. She trudged up the familiar stairs towards the bedroom.

When she opened the door, there was a faint smell of tobacco.

Christina froze at the door, not daring to step forward. The man inside the room also looked shocked. He still held a lighted cigarette in his left hand, which he put out at once.

Their eyes met and they all had mixed feelings.

"Young Madam, remember not to provoke him anymore." Nanny Faang was standing right outside the door, and she repeated the warning in a low voice, afraid that Christina would do something to provoke Mr. Hopkins into a rage.

As she spoke, Christina was nudged into the bedroom by Nanny Faang.

The door was quickly shut.

There was only him and her in the spacious room, which seemed strange, chilly and awkward.

After about five minutes of silence, she stood by the door and did not take another step forward. She stood with her head half lowered.

The man on the balcony gazed at her with a complicated look, clearly seeing her anxious profile...

All of a sudden, it was as if he could not stand the atmosphere and was angry at something that his brows tightened. He held back his mixed feelings and strode towards her.

She could feel his anger and she looked up sharply, not to know what to do.

It was as if she was afraid of something. She was afraid that what had just happened might happen again...

Patrick did approach her, but he did not look at her anymore. Instead, he walked past her, reached out to turn the doorknob, and walked out with heavy steps...

She got nervous when she was with him.

"Patrick..."

The corner of his shirt was suddenly pulled by her, and the man who was half a step away from her had a look of astonishment on his cold face.

"Patrick, I didn't mean to make you angry. I was just afraid..." She still lowered her head and whispered.

"Christina, you... shut up."

His voice was low and he sounded angry.

But when Patrick casted a sideway look at her cheek, he saw that the corners of her eyes were a little moist, so he bit back his words.

"That car accident..." Christina said in a low voice. She seemed to be reminiscing, hesitant and choking.

"You protected me in front of me. Your body was cold, and then I smelled a heavy smell of blood... It was dark. I couldn't see anything. I kept calling your name, but you didn't answer me. I've been calling you for a long time..."

Her eyes were red, and some hot tears rolled down her face.

"Patrick, I was scared..."

"You didn't tell me anything. I just wanted to know... I don't want you to protect me. I don't want anything to happen to you."

At this point, she could not help but cry out. She leaned over and hugged the tall man in front of her with both hands, hugging his strong waist tightly.

She bent her head over his heart and she sobbed out,... "I was afraid, I was afraid that something would happen to you. I didn't know anything. I couldn't help you with anything. I thought I was useless..."

Patrick's whole body was tense, and he looked completely stunned.

He didn't know what to say. He didn't expect her to say that, nor did he expect the woman to cry in his arms.

She mumbled something else, her tone guilty and humble...

"... Christina, you're really a crybaby."

He really didn't know what to say. He looked down at her sobbing. It looked like she had suffered a great grievance. He felt helpless and strangely warm in his heart.

"It's not that I like crying. It's because... I'm pregnant. It's my son who's affecting me."

She was crying and argued back.

This made Patrick a little speechless for a moment.

"Then my son must be a crybaby after he was born."

He bent his head and leaned against her tear-stained face, whispering softly in her ear. "If my son is a crybaby, he can't get a wife, so don't cry..." He worked hard to come up with a humorous sentence.

Christina wasn't sure if he was trying to coax her. Anyway, such a cold man wouldn't say anything sweet. She would just treat it as his rare tenderness.

She remembered that once he had seen her crying, he said directly, "You look ugly when you cry."

After thinking about it, Christina let go of him and immediately went into the bathroom, probably ashamed and shy.

After rinsing herself with the flowers, she walked to the bathroom mirror and made sure that her eyes were not that red and swollen. Then she came out wearing a bathrobe.

"I thought you were going to hide in there all night."

Patrick had taken a shower in the study and stood outside the bathroom. He hesitated for almost half an hour and did not enter as she opened the door.

Christina's face was a little red. She turned her head sideways and didn't look at him. She climbed into bed and pulled the quilt to sleep.

She was in the bathroom reflecting on herself, thinking that it was too embarrassing for her to cry in his arms.

She never wanted to talk to him about these things. She just...

She just didn't want to argue with him.

"What are you going to do..." Suddenly, one side of the quilt was forcefully lifted, and the woman, who was letting her imagination go wild, immediately turned around vigilantly.

"What do you think I'm going to do? This is my bed and you are my wife. What am I going to do?" Patrick glanced at her angrily and lay down naturally.

She looked at him and felt a little awkward. She edged to the bedside.

But he suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist. Christina was nervous and she didn't know what he was going to do.

Patrick did not say a word. His palms were very big, much bigger than hers anyway. Unlike those rich men whose hands were delicate, his palms were slightly calloused from exercise.

His long, slender fingers caressed her wrists, which were red from his grip just now. "Will it hurt?" Suddenly, he asked in a low, ambiguous voice.

"Only when it hurts can you remember!"

He didn't coax her. This man was really not gentle at all.

Christina compressed her lips, feeling very resentful. However, when he held her wrist like this, she felt her skin a little numb and even her heart beat a little faster.