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"My private sanctum."
Before he could add anything else, like why he'd brought Rowan in here rather than a more public room in the mansion, a woman dressed in the no nonsense uniform of a housekeeper with her salt and pepper hair pulled back into a severe bun briskly walked in. She carried a laden tray. She spoke in rapid Greek to Lysander, telling him she had the supplies to tend to his guest.
Clearly expecting her boss to move out of the way, the housekeeper stepped toward Rowan. However, Lysander put his hand out with an imperious gesture. "Give it to me."
"You are going to put bandages on my skinned knees?" Rowan asked with shock.Hewas?
"Not until I have cleaned them," he said, like that should be self-evident. "But first let us get some ice on your ankle. Which one is paining you?"
Rowan pointed to her left ankle, which did not look swollen, so she had hopes it wasn't a full-on sprain.
He laid a cloth neatly over her ankle and then carefully placed an icepack on top of the cloth before instructing a smart speaker to set a twenty-minute timer. "Do you want something for the pain?"
"If you have a couple of ibuprofen, I'll happily take them." At some point she would have to walk out of here on her own steam. She'd like to be able to do that without making an absolute cake of herself.
Lysander sent the housekeeper for the ibuprofen and then took a damp cloth from a pile of neatly rolled ones just like it and dabbed oh so gently at her left knee. It still stung and Rowan winced.
He blew on it. "Better?"
Unable to form even the single wordyes, Rowan gulped and nodded.
CHAPTER 3
The housekeeper returned with a tumbler of water and two tablets. Thanking the other woman in Greek, Rowan took the pain relievers with a sip of water.
"Drink at least a cup. It is better for you and will make the pain reliever work faster," Lysander instructed.
Rowan did as directed because she knew he was right, not because she was usually amenable to being bossed around. Even for her own good.
Lysander repeated the gentle dabbing to her knee with the wet cloth, then soft blowing to take the sting away until he was apparently satisfied with the results of his ministrations. He then put some ointment on the abrasion before picking out the perfect sized bandage and applying it. After he had shown her right knee equally careful attention, he moved the tray from the sofa to the coffee table.
However, he made no move to put any physical distance between them.
"How is your ankle feeling?" he asked.
She shrugged. "The ice seems to be helping."
"We'll check it after the timer goes off and determine if you need a doctor to look at it."
"Oh, I'm sure that's not necessary," she assured him. "It didn't look swollen."
He made a noncommittal noise.
"I do not like going to the doctor's," she informed him. Her antipathy was rooted in a childhood spent in too many doctor's offices monitoring a heart condition that had required surgery when she was six.
Since then, her heart was the strongest muscle in her body, she was sure of it. It would have to be to survive the betrayal of both her husband and her family.
"Understood," Lysander said.
"What does that mean? You understand I don't want to go to the doctor's office, but I'm going anyway if you think my ankle needs attention?" she asked with heavy sarcasm.
He gave her a slashing white smile. "It is like you know me, but not exactly. I understand if your ankle needs attention, my concierge doctor will be called to attend you here."
"You have a concierge doctor?" Of course, he did. He was a billionaire after all.
"It is a matter of time, efficiency, and security."
"Does it ever bother you?"
