Winning Her Heart Back (Emelie Hoven )
Chapter 473

Chapter 473 She Underestimates Him

The helicopter cabin wasn’t huge.

Emelie was curled into a tight ball, shivering and sniffling with cold.

Wesley asked Jodie to fetch a blanket, after which he draped it over her. “I don’t have any spare clothes for you here, but we’ll be there soon. Hang in there a little longer.”

Emelie lifted her head. Her face was flawless and was shimmering under the moonlight after the rain had cleansed it.

“We’re leaving just like that? Aren’t you going to rescue your guy?” Emelie asked.

Wesley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said in a gentle voice, “William won’t kill him. My father will negotiate, and Marcel’s smart enough to replace his own way out.”

Emelie pulled the blanket tighter around her, feeling a chill in her bones.

She turned to look out the window.

Night had fallen, engulfing Capebatt City in the dark. She couldn’t see much.

Emelie thought that their destination was a house, but they landed at a dock instead. They got down from the helicopter and boarded a private cruise.

The torrential rain whipped up strong winds and waves that battered the shore. Yet, the huge vessel was like a floating palace, firmly holding itself against the horrid weather.

Wesley helped her onto the cruise.

Once they were inside the cabin, he removed the damp blanket around Emelie.

Emelie looked around. This ship was even bigger than the one Norman had used for the party.

“Originally, we planned to leave Capebatt City via a private jet because it would be faster, but we just received word that all flights are grounded due to the bad weather. My guess is William played a hand in that. Now, we can only leave by sea. I’ll ask Jodie to take you to get a warm shower,” Wesley said.

Emelie nodded.

It wasn’t wise to take to the seas in this bad weather too, but Wesley had still decided to set sail.

She understood his worries. Any delay and William would catch on to their escape by sea. By then, he would use his connections to block their path as well.

Emelie took a quick hot shower and put on a fresh set of clothes prepared for her. She finally felt the warmth returning to her limbs.

Emelie surveyed the room and noted the distinctly Vereios–style decor.

The paintings on the walls and the books on the table were in foreign languages. This ship must have been imported.

It seemed she had underestimated the extent of Wesley’s accomplishments during his ten years abroad.

He was wearing a soft white turtleneck sweater, tucked into custom–made white trousers. Over his sweater was a matching white knit cardigan.

Like William, he favored a particular color palette. His preference for light shades accentuated his enigmatic persona.

The cabin itself resembled a top suite at a five–star hotel.

Wesley was sitting on a leather sofa, busy brewing a pot of mulled wine that filled the air with a rich aroma and a touch of warmth.

“Feeling better?” Wesley lifted his head to look at her.

Emelie walked up and sat some distance away from him.

She went straight to the point and said, “Care to explain now?”

“Are you feeling cold? The rain is really heavy today. I made some mulled wine to warm you up first” Wesley poured the wine into a glass and offered it to her.

Emelie felt like he was deflecting the question, but then Wesley said, “We have a long journey ahead.”

If the voyage was long, escaping from this conversation was impossible no matter how big this ship was.

Emelie was determined to get answers, so she accepted the wine and took a tentative sip.

The cinnamon and orange infused the wine with a richer flavor.

Emelie, somewhat of a wine connoisseur, recognized it as Romanée–Conti. It was an expensive wine, but Wesley had used it for mulled wine. It was a bit wasteful.

Emelie lifted her head. “Do you have something to eat?”

He nodded. “What would you like?”

“I can order something?” Emelie asked.

“We were short on time when we switched ships, so nothing too elaborate. Hot or cold?” He didn’t wait for her response and helped her make a decision. “Hot, it is.” Emelie wasn’t picky. Wesley gave some instructions to Jodie, who in turn passed it onto the chef.

Soon, the chef had prepared four dishes: Bolognese pasta, mushroom soup, pan–fried sole, and French lamb chops.

Emelie looked at the food in front of her and asked, “Aren’t you having any?”

Wesley gave a slight shake of his head. “Go ahead, eat.”

Emelie didn’t need his urging and picked up her cutlery.

The portions were small, and she had an interesting habit of finishing one dish entirely before moving on to the next.

Wesley watched her, his expression softening.

After he finished his wine and Emelie was halfway through her meal, Wesley finally brought up the topic. “You mentioned knowing you’re not related to the Hovens, and your adoptive father’s suicide wasn’t so simple. What else do you know?”