Chapter 142: Chapter 142: Have You Never Seen It, or Never Used It?
When those four words came out, images uncontrollably floated through Ann Vaughn’s mind, her entire body seemed to be burning, making her wish she could crawl into a hole.
However, as Cyrus Hawthorne pulled off the hospital gown shirt from his body, the red-black blood veins spread out, the swollen and horrifying half shoulder hit Ann Vaughn’s heart like a heavy hammer.
No matter how you check the pulse, seeing it with your own eyes is always more direct.
Ann Vaughn suddenly stiffened in place, her body turned cold.
Her trembling fingertips wanted to touch that wound, but before she could touch it, she reflexively pulled back.
"I’m sorry..."
Ann Vaughn bit her lower lip fiercely, her eyes shimmering with a hint of crystal.
Cyrus Hawthorne gently raised his eyebrows, let out a slight snort between his thin lips, then straightforwardly grabbed her hand and placed it on the wound—
"Just a minor injury, won’t die, huh?"
The soft palm touched the swollen and hot wound, for some reason, there was an indescribable soothing feeling.
But Ann Vaughn immediately pulled her hand back, afraid of hurting him.
Seeing Ann Vaughn’s expression as if he was something fragile, Cyrus Hawthorne raised his hand and flicked her forehead, then deftly took off his clothes and stepped into the bathtub.
That kind of small gesture, which usually exists between close friends or intimate lovers, was suddenly made by Cyrus Hawthorne.
It made Ann Vaughn inexplicably feel a bit confused and slightly joyed.
Even she couldn’t understand why these two complex emotions arose.
"Come over, help me." Cyrus Hawthorne’s half-commanding, lazy voice pulled Ann Vaughn out from her thoughts.
When she looked up, she saw Cyrus Hawthorne already sitting in the bathtub, with two strong arms casually resting on the edge, leaning back, his eyes slightly closed.
——Like an ancient king waiting to be served, proud and high above.
Under the struggle between guilt and shyness, guilt ultimately prevailed.
Ann Vaughn took small steps to move behind Cyrus Hawthorne, pursed her lips, and resignedly picked up the towel and shower gel.
About twenty minutes later, the door to the ward was pushed open, and Cynthia Vaughn entered carrying supplements, only to find no one inside the room.
After putting down the supplements, Cynthia Vaughn immediately took off her coat, revealing a cunning beige long dress with a transparent shoulder and lace circle underneath.
She pulled down the neckline, about to sit and wait for Cyrus Hawthorne to come out from the bathroom when she heard sounds coming from inside.
"Don’t deliberately smear foam on my face, Cyrus Hawthorne, you’re not a child."
"Can you use a towel to cover up a bit, it’s just a bath, can you stop thinking about nonsense!"
Ann Vaughn’s voice initially was patient, soft and gentle with a hint of helplessness, but at last, it suddenly exploded, seemingly having seen something.
"Cyrus Hawthorne!!"
Engulfed in Ann Vaughn’s coquettish reproach, is also the sound of Cynthia Vaughn’s newly done manicure breaking.
Cynthia Vaughn stood at the partially open bathroom door, her beautiful eyes seemingly filled with black mist and venom, gripping her palms tightly.
Heh, hehehe.
She had never known that Cian, usually quiet and gentle, who treated her kindly yet restrained, also had such an aspect!
Cynthia Vaughn always thought she was different in Cyrus Hawthorne’s heart. He is cold and ruthless to others, indifferent, yet exceptionally gentle and considerate to her.
This was uniquely hers.
She had always been proud of it.
Though a man being gentle and considerate, attentive is indeed good, and this gentleness further amplified by the man’s noble and powerful status, seems even more luxurious and rare.
Then what if this man’s intimate actions towards you are limited to hugs and holding hands, without a single trace of sexual impulse...
The resentment in Cynthia Vaughn’s eyes suddenly faded, she retreated a step, bewildered.
No, it’s impossible, she is special in Cian’s heart, otherwise Cian wouldn’t be so cruel and heartless toward Ann Vaughn for her.
If he doesn’t love her... he naturally loves her!
But Ann Vaughn, this stumbling block, absolutely cannot remain!
After a moment, Ann Vaughn finally came out of the bathroom, her peach-colored cheeks slightly puffed, bright eyes rippling like vibrant blossoms, emitting a soft glow.
But when she looked at her still trembling hands, the blush on her cheeks deepened, her eyes flickered with regret.
She must have been momentarily insane to agree to use her hands—
Ann Vaughn dared not reminisce further, nor stay here any longer, hastily ran out of the ward.
When Cyrus Hawthorne, emitting a satisfied aura, came out of the bathroom, he indeed did not see the little one’s figure in the ward, his thin lips curved slightly.
What an easy target.
-
The next day, Ann Vaughn realized she remembered the boy who was locked in the cabin with her when she left The Water Terrace with a thermos box.
She called Mark Joyce for the room number then discovered his ward was on a different floor.
Ann Vaughn then turned back, made another meal, and brought it back to the hospital.
Due to yesterday’s incident, Ann Vaughn still gave the meal to Bella Hawthorne, asked her to make the trip, while she took the little brat’s meal downstairs.
"Bang—"
Just as she stepped out of the elevator, Ann Vaughn miserably collided head-on with someone on the opposite side, the thermos box in her hand fell to the ground with a sound.
Ann Vaughn leaned backward slightly, a slightly cool hand immediately grabbed her arm, steadily pulling her back from nearly falling.
"Tha-thank you." Ann Vaughn was startled, she picked up the thermos box from the ground, one hand covering the sore forehead, apologizing to the person.
But then she realized something was off, as the person was standing too close to the elevator door, who normally does that?
"It’s fine, be careful." The man’s voice coming from above was slightly hoarse, like rich, high-quality wine, carrying an indescribable tranquility and remote feeling.
Just hearing the voice made one involuntarily curious about this person.
Ann Vaughn slightly raised her head, her sight met a moon-white Tang suit embroidered with a few green bamboo patterns in silver threads, on the casually rested right hand, he fiddled with a string of sandalwood Buddha beads, evidently a gentle person.
But when Ann Vaughn lifted her eyes to the white cloth over the man’s eyes, she suddenly paused.
Why did she feel... like she had seen this man somewhere before?
"Seventh Master!" At this moment, three bodyguards hurried over from the end of the corridor, one of them blocked Ann Vaughn and then warily watched her.
The man called "Seventh Master" raised his hand slightly, signaling them to retreat.
Those eyes veiled by the white cloth obviously couldn’t see anything, yet it gave Ann Vaughn the illusion that her every move was within this person’s sight.