Chapter 276: Chapter 276: Am I Really That Kind of Person?
When she finally remembered that Cyrus Hawthorne was staying here tonight, her soul, scared away, reluctantly returned.
Ann Vaughn swallowed nervously, moved over, turned on the desk lamp, picked up the quilt that had fallen on the carpet, and glanced at Cyrus Hawthorne’s cold, pale sleeping face for a moment, humming softly.
"You could just freeze to death."
As soon as she said this, she covered him with the quilt but discovered his large hand was tightly covering his stomach, his slender body slightly curled up, as if enduring something.
Ann Vaughn’s eyes froze, belatedly realizing his face was excessively pale, and small red spots had appeared around his neck. She quickly checked his pulse.
Gastroenteritis, chili allergy...
Ann Vaughn frowned deeply, remembering the plate of spicy food he devoured completely, she quickly released his hand and ran into the room.
She emerged with a medical kit in her hand, went to the sofa to sit down, and began to wake him.
"Cyrus Hawthorne? Cyrus Hawthorne, wake up!"
Cyrus Hawthorne usually slept lightly, but now it took several calls from Ann Vaughn before he slowly opened his eyes, his voice heavy and raspy, "Hmm?"
"Your stomach is acting up, get up and take your medicine first." Ann Vaughn handed him the stomach medicine, and then took out some allergy ointment from the medical kit, placing them in front of him, "Take off your clothes, I’ll apply the medicine for you."
As soon as she spoke, Cyrus Hawthorne paused slightly in his movement of drinking medicine, and looked at her with an indescribable gaze.
"...What are you thinking! I’m just applying medicine, not trying to see you!" Ann Vaughn’s face flushed, her bright eyes shot him a glance.
Why does this man always look at her like she’s a heartless flirtatious woman!
Is she that kind of person!?
After Cyrus Hawthorne took the stomach medicine, he unhurriedly took off his gray bear sweatshirt, revealing defined abs...
Ann Vaughn: I really am that kind of person.
Suppressing the urge to touch, Ann Vaughn applied the green ointment evenly on the red spots on his body, grumbling, "You clearly can’t handle spicy food, so why did you still eat when I offered it?"
"Hmm?" Cyrus Hawthorne faced away from her, his voice raspy due to the allergy, "Your cooking is very good."
Though it was a compliment, Ann Vaughn didn’t feel pleased at all.
"Idiot." She murmured softly, pursed her red lips, and didn’t say anything else. After finishing the medication application on his back, she let him turn around.
This time, Ann Vaughn didn’t get distracted, carefully applying the ointment before letting him put on his clothes, "Your stomach problem is quite severe, you used to have irregular meals, didn’t you?"
Cyrus Hawthorne’s deep narrowed eyes looked at her without saying a word.
Ann Vaughn suddenly remembered, he had forgotten, and couldn’t give her any answers.
Yet if his memories were all about her, would he answer if she asked about the incident four years ago?
This question made Ann Vaughn feel a bit confused, so much that she didn’t notice when Cyrus Hawthorne laid his head on her lap.
After a long time, Ann Vaughn reluctantly abandoned the thought.
Without thinking about these complex things anymore, Ann Vaughn mercilessly lifted Cyrus Hawthorne’s head and tossed it back onto the sofa, turning back to her room.
The man sat on the sofa, slowly massaging the sore spots with his fingertips, looking towards the bedroom with deeply contemplative eyes, pondering something unknown.
Inside the bedroom.
The air conditioning temperature was just right, even without a quilt it wouldn’t be cold.
Ann Vaughn didn’t sleep well, feeling as though she was trapped within the fur of some plush creature, held ever tighter.
Her whole body seemed to ache as if kneaded, giving her the illusion of being unable to breathe.
She wanted to open her eyes and look but succumbed to sleepiness, unable to move even a finger.
"Um..."
The feeling of being tightly pinned down by something returned, Ann Vaughn struggled to open her eyes, and was met with the sight of a cute gray bear.
Instinctively she glanced upward, seeing a beautifully defined jawline and the man’s leisurely satisfied handsome face.
Ann Vaughn jolted awake, struggling within his imprisoning arms, "Cyrus Hawthorne, who let you come to my bed!?"
Feeling both ashamed and angry, she instinctively reached out to scratch him.
"Morning." He lowered his head, planting a kiss at the corner of Ann Vaughn’s eye.
As if the previous scene was merely Ann Vaughn’s unreality of not yet awoken from a dream.
Yet she had clearly seen the vigilance and hostility hiding in his eyes at that time.
That is the look of one who possesses nothing yet hides distinct defenses.
He... really had lost his memory.
Realizing this, Ann Vaughn rose with complicated emotions, even forgetting to question why he appeared in her bed at such an early hour, seeing him leave, she got up to wash.
Once out, breakfast was already set on the dining table.
Ann Vaughn thought Sherry had returned from next door, but upon entering the kitchen, it was Cyrus Hawthorne.
He was still wearing the somewhat comical gray bear pajamas, yet due to his nearly six-five height and perfect body proportions, he wore it with a flavor of top-tier limited edition.
Indeed, the person makes the clothing.
Ann Vaughn thought silently, then heard him say, "Take the porridge out, you can start eating."
"Okay." Ann Vaughn responded, carrying the porridge bowl outside.
Before putting the porridge down, Ann Vaughn sensed something seemed off, yet she couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong.
Cyrus Hawthorne came out of the kitchen, placing a cup of warm milk in front of Ann Vaughn, his calm brows showed no signs of last night’s painful disturbance.
After breakfast, Ann Vaughn grabbed Cyrus Hawthorne’s wrist, checking his pulse, and said, "Much better than last night, you need to pay more attention to your diet, avoid spicy food, and eat three meals regularly."
Cyrus Hawthorne seemed to notice something, his brows lightly furrowed, eyes lowered.
"Your Special Assistant, Mark Joyce, will be coming to pick you up later, I..." Ann Vaughn had just figured out how to start speaking when Cyrus Hawthorne stood up abruptly, his face icy.