My One-month Marriage With Mr. Hawkins

Chapter 111: Never mind, I Shouldn’t Have Argued with A Drunkard

“Hahahaha.”

Hoots of derisive laughter exploded in the room as the lads did not even bother to restrain their jeering at the sight of him being kicked away.

Harold picked himself up from the ground in exasperation and scowled at the onlookers, “What the hell are you laughing at? If any one of you thinks you’re capable of getting him up, be my guest by all means.”

The taunting wave of laughter ended abruptly, and the room instantly fell into silence to the extent that one could have heard a pin dropping on the ground.

Even though Ernest was wasted, his menacing aura and the way he threw blows at people whom was trying to get close to him were as intimidating as ever, hence no one was willing to risk their lives to help him get up despite having egg on their faces after jeering at Harold.

However, they were even more worried about the consequences if they were to ditch him in the room and left by themselves.

A bunch of them stared at each other in bleak dismay for a while with dumbfounded looks on their faces as they were suddenly at a loss to the way to get Ernest home.

“What if we get a woman to help him up instead?” someone suggested.

“Even if Ernest is supported home this way, you will be beaten to death by him tomorrow.” Another man sneered at his foolish idea as they all were clued-up on Ernest’s detestation towards being in contact with any woman in general.

It was apparent from their all-male only gatherings as he had always prohibited the lot to call women in for the fun.

Harold’s eyes lit up when a brilliant idea suddenly came to his mind, “Other women are certainly out of the question, but don’t forget that Florence is an exception!”

Furthermore, this would be an excellent opportunity to create some spark between them while she cared for the intoxicated Ernest on her own. What a genius he was, Harold thought to himself.

Harold swiftly dialed Florence’s number to push forward with his plan.

Florence was already in sound asleep, but the sound of her pressing ringtone had woken her up in the middle of the night.

She picked it up without opening her eyes, “Who is it? What’s the matter?”

“It’s me, Harold. Ernest is dead drunk in the bar now, so could you come and pick him up, Florence?”

“No.” She rejected his plea without a single hint of hesitation as she was unwilling to look at Ernest’s face now.

After a slight pause, Florence added, “By the way, you can call for a designated driver on the app to send him home if all of you can’t drive. The app for that is very useful for situations like this.”

She still recalled the previous time that she had to send Ernest home all because of their claims that they were not fit to be behind the wheel as they were under the influence. Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

She was still baffled by how she had ended up staying the night at his place after sending him back which had led her to be taken advantage of.

She would be foolish if she were to repeat the same mistake again and rushed out from her house in the wee hours of the night for him.

“Ernest is really wasted this time as he could not even stand up on his own. You know that he is the richest man in City N, and it would be terrible if he were to be kidnapped by some strangers with malicious intent. I’m saying this as it’s not like this has never happened before.”

Florence was rendered speechless for a while, “…”

“You can ask for Timothy’s help.” After a moment of pause, she suggested.

“That’s what I was thinking too, but Mrs. Hawkins had called just now, so she would definitely ask about his condition later now that she’s aware of Ernest’s current drunken state. If she gets wind of how you have not shown up to get him even when he’s hopelessly pickled, will she be suspicious of your relationship then?”

Florence’s eyes which were rested all this while opened in an instant upon hearing Harold’s suggestive remark.

She was still Ernest’s fiancée nominally, so she could not afford to let Georgia overthink and break her heart before their engagement was dissolved.

However, the thought of having to pick him up in the early hours of the morning had depressed her, but she finally gave in to Harold as she uttered sulkily, “I’ll be there ASAP, wait for me.”

She hung up the phone in a huff and got up to get dressed as she had resigned to her fate.

It was already three in the morning by the time Florence had reached Bread One Restaurant. She muffled herself up further in her jacket while rubbing her sleepy eyes, thinking to herself that it was such a relief that she was not going to get married to Ernest for real, otherwise she would have had to always pick him up late at night.

After comforting herself with this consoling thought, she promptly walked towards the private room where Ernest was in.

When she had arrived, the first sight that she had laid her eyes on the moment she pushed open the door was the uncountable empty bottles on the table, and her temple immediately throbbed with pain as she was confounded by the amount of booze that he had downed on his own.

“You’re finally here, Florence. If you were to arrive any later, all of us would have no choice but to stay the night here miserably.” Harold greeted her with open arms while walking towards her.

Florence uttered in an indifferent manner, “You could actually let him stay the night by himself here since it’s safe in the private room, and the sofa seems rather comfortable.”

“Ahem, ahem, Ernest has mysophobia and he is a clean freak, so he will never spend the night outside.”

Why did he simply spend the night at her place then if that was the case?

Florence was thrown into a sullen mood suddenly, and she proceeded to walk up to the sofa which Ernest was sitting in.

He was reclining in the sofa while resting his eyes, and his measured breathing seemed to indicate that he had fallen asleep. However, his porcelain white skin was still gleaming while his striking face was as enchanting as ever, and his appearance did not show that he was tipsy even for a bit.

Florence was somewhat puzzled as she asked, “Are you sure he’s hammered?”

“You can’t discern it from his face as he will not turn red after drinking. If you don’t believe me, you can try to get a sniff of the alcohol scent emitting from his body,” Harold suggested.

She bent over her body and as soon as she got closer to Ernest, she could detect the tangy aroma of alcohol blending with the refreshing and distinguishing fragrance from his body. It was as if he smelled of fine wine that had been brewed for many years, and his tantalizing and irresistible scent was capable of rousing one’s senses.

Florence had no choice but to called out to him softly, “Mr. Hawkins, Mr. Hawkins.”

Ernest’s brows moved slightly, but he did not open his eyes nor respond to her, only breathing in an even and slow rhythm as he continued to sleep.

Harold confirmed to her, “He’s totally wasted.”

Florence said resignedly, “I’ll help him up then, could you give me a hand?”

Harold remained where he was standing and even took two steps backward while explaining, “Ernest has not passed out yet, so I believe you can get him up by yourself, Florence.”

Florence looked Harold up and down suspiciously as the way he acted was unlike himself, and she felt like something was off about him.

However, she quickly dismissed the thought in her mind as it was already late at night, and if she continued to dilly-dally here, dawn would be upon them soon.

She thereupon raised Ernest’s arm to help him get up on his feet, and when all the fine gentlemen had set their eyes on her attempt to prop Ernest up, their eyes were wide opened as they stared at her breathlessly.

Before she had shown up, a few them had tried to go up to Ernest to help him up but was instead kicked away by him mercilessly without any exception, and some of their knees were still throbbing in pain.

Would Florence be kicked away too…?

The audience was all eyes as Florence proceeded to put Ernest’s arm on her shoulders for support while shaking him to prompt him to rise to his feet with her at the same time.

Ernest just let her hold him the entire time while she was helping him to stand up without raising his leg anymore.

The corner of everyone’s mouth twitched after taking in the sight as they all simultaneously had a chip on their shoulder after they were previously mistreated for just trying to help him.

It seemed that Ernest could only recognize his woman even when he was as drunk as a skunk.

Ernest’s body weight was more than Florence’s by a great deal; hence she would not be able to carry him by herself if he was really dead drunk and if his full body weight weighed down on her.

She could only put forth her full strength as she shouted at him, “Wake up, Mr. Hawkins. Try to stand up, we will go home now.”

Ernest’s eyelashes fluttered slightly while his arm pressed down on her body and enclasped her further, and it could be seen that he had even exerted some forces on his own after that, and in the end, he finally got up on his feet with her help.

The onlookers were suddenly dazzled by their lovey-dovey state when they were watching the astonishing scene unfolding in front of them attentively.

Florence rejoiced at the sight of Ernest standing up as she was relieved that he had not fallen into a stupor. Just when she was about to support him and lead him out, his feet were rooted to the ground while he stood as steady as a rock, and no matter how hard she tried to pull him with all her might, it was to no avail.

“Mr. Hawkins?” Florence raised her head in perplexity only to stare into his long and narrow eyes which had now opened a little. He was gazing at her with his half-shut eyes which had darkened and seemed to be ignited with fury.

She hurriedly explained, “I will take you home, Mr. Hawkins. Come with me.”

Ernest stared at her intently for a while, and he finally uttered with a hoarse voice, “Go away, I do not wish to see you.”

Florence was stunned on the spot to be told off by him as soon as he had opened his eyes. Did he really have to treat her like this?