Rebirth Swapped Bride: Married to a Ruthless Cursed billionaire Book2-Chapter 149: Drunken Drake

Chapter 149: Drunken Drake
It was already half past eleven at night when they stepped out of the club.
Drake was so drunk he couldn’t even find his way home.
Lucas and Samantha had to support him the entire way, enduring his rowdy antics that gave everyone a headache.
Beauty watched in silence as the usual suave and debonair CEO Drake stumbled along.
She leaned closer to Sarah and whispered, just loud enough for the two of them to hear,
"Who knew he could be this adorable when he’s drunk?"
Sarah: "..." This was the first time she’d ever heard someone describe Drake as "adorable."
To her, he was nothing short of infuriating.
"Is he going to be okay?"
Beauty murmured again, concern flickering in her eyes as she tilted her chin up to glance at the back of Drake’s head, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation.
It was her first time seeing a grown man act like a child after drinking—both endearingly cute and pitiful at the same time.
Sarah hadn’t seen Drake like this in years.
The memories of their time together had nearly faded into obscurity.
The last time he’d been this wasted was when she had tried to break up with him.
Back then, he had drunk even more than tonight, clutching a liquor bottle like a lifeline, nearly dropping to his knees in front of her.
Like a child begging for candy, he had pleaded desperately for her not to leave.
She could barely remember the exact words she had thrown at him—words that must have pierced his heart like a thousand arrows.
All she recalled was the cold determination on her face as she slammed the door behind her, never once looking back.
"This isn’t his first time like this," Sarah said flatly.
"He’ll be fine after a night’s sleep.
Besides, someone’s taking care of him.
Don’t worry."
When she mentioned "someone," her gaze involuntarily drifted toward Samantha’s face, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
The club manager helped them call a designated driver.
Lucas, still uneasy about Drake’s condition, instructed the driver to take Beauty back to the villa first before heading to the Drake residence with Samantha to drop off the drunken mess.
"Lucas," Drake slurred, swaying slightly as he pointed a wobbly finger at Lucas, "you better treat Beauty well, got it?
No bullying her!"
Drake raised his eyes with a roguish grin at Lucas before letting his head droop again, soon breaking into loud snores.
"Finally asleep.
That should give you some peace.
Call me if anything comes up."
After helping Drake out of his jacket and shoes, Lucas and Samantha moved him from the couch to the bed, their efforts leaving a patch of sweat on the sheets.
Luckily, everyone else had already turned in for the night, with only a few servants still bustling about.
If Chairman Drake found out about this, he’d surely fly into another rage.
Lucas sped off in his car, his thoughts fixed on his beloved wife.
He pressed the accelerator to the floor, the streets nearly empty at this hour.
In no time, he arrived at the Marson family villa, taking the stairs two at a time before knocking impatiently on Mary’s door.
Though Beauty had returned earlier and soaked in a fragrant petal bath—leaving every pore relaxed and her drowsiness completely vanished—she had been standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing outside.
Only when she spotted the familiar car pulling into the driveway did she hurriedly yank the curtains shut, afraid he might catch her foolishly waiting.
Logically, she knew his eyesight wasn’t sharp enough to pierce through the darkness and make out her face.
Yet her heart still fluttered with unease.
She threw the covers over herself, switched off the bedside lamp, and pretended to be fast asleep.
She knew Lucas well—if her room was dark, he wouldn’t knock.
He’d either head straight to his own room or, more likely, pull out a key and let himself in.
Just as she predicted, the lock clicked faintly, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps.
Midsummer heat be damned, she had cranked the AC down low, wrapping herself tightly in a silk quilt—head and all.
The room was dead silent.
She held her breath, terrified that even the slightest exhale might give her away.
Lucas didn’t turn on the lights. Instead, his voice came low and warm in the darkness.
"Sweetheart, are you asleep?"
No response came from the room—not a sound, not even a rustle.
The air itself seemed to hold its breath for three long seconds.
Just as she began to rejoice inwardly, thinking he might leave, the quilt was abruptly yanked away by a pair of large hands.
"Cut the act.
I know you’re awake. Keep pretending, and I won’t hesitate to make a move."
"What kind of move?"
Beauty bolted upright in bed, wrapping the silk blanket tightly around herself.
Her delicate brows furrowed as she lifted her chin defiantly, irritation flashing in her eyes.
Lucas shrugged off his coat and hung it on the nearby rack, ignoring her completely as he strode toward the bathroom without another word.
Beauty felt as though she’d swallowed a fly—disgusted, speechless, and suddenly fidgety.
Then the sound of running water from the bathroom sent a flush creeping up her cheeks, staining them a vivid scarlet.
Was he planning to sleep in her bed?
With her?
Her heart lurched, pounding so violently she feared it might burst.
Sure, they’d shared a bed before—more than once, even—and she’d almost grown accustomed to it.
But this time was different.
This time, she lay there as Mrs. Marson.
Whatever happened next would be... expected.
Lawful, even.
Oh God.
What kind of indecent thoughts were swirling in that little head of hers?
By the time the bathroom door swung open again, she’d cocooned herself back in the silk blanket, this time leaving only her head exposed while swaddling her body like a dumpling.
The flush on her face hadn’t faded; if anything, the soft lighting made her glow even more enchanting.
Her only option now was to play dead.
Otherwise, that man would devour her whole—leaving no crumbs behind.
The mattress dipped suddenly, and her heart sank with it.
Then a pair of strong arms pulled her into an embrace.
Her pulse skyrocketed, a wild drumbeat accompanied by what felt like a chorus of birds singing jubilant in her chest.
Her warm breath cascaded over his chest, her heartbeat erratic as if jolted by electricity.
If there were an EKG monitor attached to her right now, the line would surely be spiking off the charts—she was this close to suffocating.
"Hmm? Still pretending to sleep?
Fine, get some proper rest then.
You’ve had a long day, and we’ve got all the time in the world."
All the time in the world?
So he was letting her off the hook tonight?
Then why had she gotten her hopes up just now?
A sudden realization hit her—she’d been played.
The frustration simmered inside, but she swallowed it down.
After all, she couldn’t very well leap up and declare, *"The night is short—let’s make the most of it!"*
The next morning, Beauty stirred drowsily, stretching her long legs until they brushed against something unexpectedly fuzzy.
She nuzzled against it twice before jolting fully awake.
Only then did she remember—Lucas had held her all through the night. In a panic, she shoved him away and rolled to the opposite side of the bed, only to be yanked right back into his arms.
"Trying to run?"
"N-no!
I wasn’t!
I just—really need to pee.
Like, *now*."
With that, she scrambled out of bed, slipped into her slippers, and bolted for the bathroom, her cheeks burning crimson—adorably so.