The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 186: The Golden River Beneath the Stars
For a long time, the only sounds that filled the air were soft, broken whimpers, like the piteous mewling of a wounded animal. It took a considerable while for the turbulent tides of emotion crashing against the shores of Julian Sterling’s heart to finally recede. The sheer exhaustion of the emotional release left him feeling physically drained, his limbs heavy and his spirit raw. Yet, despite the cessation of his tears, he stubbornly refused to pull away. Instead, he buried his face deeper into the firm, comforting warmth of Ethan Caldwell’s chest, seeking refuge from the world outside their little bubble. He clung to the man, unwilling to emerge from the sanctuary he had found, wishing he could simply dissolve into this embrace and forget everything else.
The man holding him seemed to understand Julian’s fragile state perfectly. His large, warm hand, which had been rhythmically stroking along the curve of Julian’s spine to soothe his trembling, now shifted. It slid down slowly, deliberate and teasing, before delivering a light, playful swat to Julian’s buttocks.
The sudden action broke the spell of melancholy. Ethan’s deep voice rumbled against Julian’s ear, laced with a gentle mockery that was more affectionate than biting: "The little painted cat has finally stopped crying, has he? Well, if the waterworks are over, you need to show your face. Come on now, let me wipe that mess off your face. We still have to go home, and it is getting terribly late. Be a good boy now. I promise I won’t laugh at you for crying, Julian."
Hearing that tone, Julian felt a flush of embarrassment rise up his neck. Ethan sounded exactly like a parent coaxing a stubborn toddler. It was mortifying, yet undeniably comforting. Reluctantly, Julian began to peel himself away from the safe harbor of the man’s chest. As he pulled back, his eyes fell upon the front of Ethan’s shirt. The expensive fabric was hopelessly stained, a large, dark patch soaking through where Julian had pressed his face. It was drenched with his tears and mucus, a testament to his breakdown.
Looking at the ruined shirt, a wave of awkwardness washed over him. He bit his lip, feeling small.
However, the man did not seem to mind in the slightest. Ethan calmly reached into his pocket and retrieved a small, pristine handkerchief. He lowered his head slightly, his expression focused and tender, as he began to carefully wipe Julian’s face. His movements were incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to his usual imposing aura. He instructed Julian to close his eyes, and with the utmost care, he dabbed away the moisture clinging to the corners of Julian’s eyelids, treating him as if he were a piece of fragile porcelain that might shatter if handled too roughly.
"Come on, blow your nose." Ethan commanded softly, holding the cloth to Julian’s nose.
Julian’s eyes snapped open, and he pulled back slightly, indignantly: "Ethan Caldwell! I am not a child!"
"Fine, fine, Jules is not a child." Ethan chuckled, the sound rich and warm: "But be a good boy and blow your nose anyway. If you do not, you are going to start sniffling and dripping like a real baby in a minute."
"Ethan Caldwell!"
Julian was truly provoked this time, pushed to the point where he let out a low growl of frustration. In response, he only received a low, vibrating laugh from the man. Despite his protestations and his bruised pride, Julian eventually capitulated. He blew his nose into the handkerchief held by the CEO, surrendering his dignity for the sake of hygiene. Afterward, he allowed himself to be lifted and carried by the man, who deposited him gently into the passenger seat of the car.
The sleek, ostentatious BMW roared to life, the engine letting out a low, predatory growl that vibrated through the chassis before the vehicle began to move. The tires crunched softly against the pavement as they pulled away, leaving the chaotic scene and the lingering bad memories far behind them. Julian sat curled up in the leather seat, his knees drawn slightly toward his chest, his mood still rather somber. Although Ethan’s teasing had successfully sparked a flash of anger that distracted him and eased the tension in his muscles, a residue of sadness remained. It settled in his chest, lingering like a heavy fog that refused to lift. He could not quite articulate what he was feeling. It was a strange mixture of heartache and grievance, a dull ache that he did not know how to soothe.
He stared blankly out of the window, watching the world pass by in a blur. The yellow streetlights cast rhythmic, fleeting shadows across the glass, illuminating his reflection for brief seconds before plunging him back into darkness. After watching the scenery for a while, Julian suddenly realized something was amiss. Ethan seemed to be taking a different route than the one they had used to arrive. Slowly, the density of the high-rise buildings began to thin out. The concrete jungle was receding, replaced by the encroaching shadows of dense trees lining both sides of the road. The sharp, nerve-wracking turns of the city streets were gone, replaced by a smooth, winding road that climbed steadily. The landscape outside grew wilder, more natural, and the air seemed to change.
Are we taking a different road? Julian asked softly, his voice still thick and nasal from his earlier crying session.
"No, I am taking you for a drive to clear your head." Ethan replied without taking his eyes off the road. His long, elegant fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel, keeping time with the soothing melody of an instrumental track playing softly through the car’s high-end sound system: "You do not have to go to school tomorrow, do you?"
"No." Julian murmured: "I have another two or three days before I need to report for classes."
"Then that settles it. I am taking you to see some nature, to help you relieve some stress. The air up high will help clear your mind and make you feel lighter."
Hearing this, Julian turned his head to glance at the man beside him. The profile of Ethan Caldwell was calm and steady, exuding a sense of reliability that made Julian’s heart skip a beat. He did not ask any further questions. The car continued to glide forward smoothly, the hum of the engine sounding like a gentle lullaby. Ethan pressed a button, lowering the windows slightly to let the natural wind stream in. The air that filled the cabin was crisp and cool, carrying the profound scent of the deep forest, the smell of pine, wet leaves, and the damp earth after an afternoon rain. Julian could not describe the specific notes of the fragrance, but as he inhaled deeply, the suffocating tightness in his chest began to loosen. It felt as though the fresh oxygen was washing away the gloom.
The wind blew gently, ruffling Julian’s soft hair and cooling his flushed skin. The rhythmic motion of the car and the soothing white noise eventually became too much to resist. Julian’s eyelids grew heavy, and unable to fight the sudden wave of exhaustion, he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
It is often said that when one is accustomed to sleeping in a noisy environment, sudden silence can be startling enough to wake them. This proved true for Julian. The steady hum of the engine and the motion of the tires on the asphalt had lulled him into slumber, so when the car finally came to a complete stop and absolute silence descended upon them, he was jerked from his rest.
Julian opened his eyes, and his first sensation was a gritty, uncomfortable dryness. Having cried so intensely earlier without washing his face or applying a cold compress before sleeping, his eyelids felt swollen and heavy, weighing down on his vision. He blinked rapidly several times, trying to lubricate his eyes and adjust to the surrounding darkness. Inside the car, it was pitch black, save for the faint, ethereal blue glow from the dashboard. The soft light cast shadows across Ethan’s face, highlighting the sharp angles of his nose and jaw, creating a profile of dangerous allure. Julian did not know when Ethan had turned off the engine, or how long they had been sitting there in the dark.
The man sat in the shadows, silent and motionless as a perfectly carved statue. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he seemed to be waiting with infinite patience for Julian to wake up, showing no signs of urgency or intent to disturb the boy’s rest.
Julian moved slightly, shifting his position. The leather jacket that had been draped over him, carrying the familiar, grounding scent of sandalwood and tobacco that belonged to Ethan, slid from his shoulders and fell onto his lap. Julian turned his head to look out of the window, and immediately, his breath hitched in his throat. The scene that greeted him was so majestic, so overwhelmingly grand, that he forgot his discomfort entirely.
