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"Olivia, please. I'm worried about your leg. Let me help you," I repeat gently. "It won't take long, I promise." I hold her gaze for a moment before she finally relents.
I take a deep breath to steady myself and kneel beside her. She flinches when I gently brush my fingertips against her skin but doesn't pull away. I can feel the warmth emanating from her skin as I run my hand along it. As I move my finger over the wound, feeling around its edges, a small gasp escapes her lips. Instantly, I become gentler, tracing the circumference with a feather-light touch before dipping my head down to get a better look.
Gently, I wipe away traces of dirt from the wound before pouring diluted antiseptic onto a gauze pad. Her legs feel so soft under my hand as I press lightly against her skin and dab away the liquid, my heart hammering with each movement. The sting of pain makes me wince - she must be in agony - yet she remains quiet and still beneath me.
When the wound is finally clean, I apply a strip of gauze over it and wrap some medical tape around it securely, then bandage her leg again with additional crepe-bandage strips for support.
"Now," I say. "You need to change."
Reaching into my closet, I pull out a clean T-shirt and a pair of boxers before handing them to her.
"These should be the right size," I say apologetically, not wanting to comment on the fact that she is wearing no underwear beneath her clothes. "I'm sorry, it's all I have here right now."
Olivia looks down at her clothes and then back at me, a hint of embarrassment visible in her eyes as she realizes what I'm trying to do for her. She turns around, facing away from me and slowly begins to remove her shirt, her naked back to me, before pulling on the soft material of the T-shirt. As she slides off her shorts and on the boxers, I look away, to give her as much privacy as I can.
No matter how hard I try, why is it that Olivia Miller and I always end up situations like this, outside of office hours? Another one for my ‘destiny box.’
CHAPTER 11
OLIVIA
AfterAdrianhelpsmewith my wound and makes me change, I realize just how exhausted and cold I am. Now that I am getting warmer, my body has started shivering in an attempt to heat itself faster. Adrian must have noticed because he turns to me and asks, “Hey, Olivia, would you like something warm to drink?”
Something warm to drink sounds just perfect, but after the long night we’ve had, I don’t want to put him out. “Wouldn’t it be too much trouble?” I ask.
“Don’t be silly,” he smiles. “Let’s make some hot chocolate. It’s Emily’s favorite.”
I feel a warm flutter in my heart. Here was a man who would always cherish his role as a father and now that I was aware of his daughter’s existence, I realize how she’s always on his mind. It’s the sweetest side of him – a side I would never have known had tonight not occurred. He is, after all, a secretive man, one who likes to keep his life as private as possible.
We’re now sitting in his kitchen, after checking up on Emily who is fast asleep, sipping on warm cocoa.
“It’s my turn now,” I say, grinning at him. The cocoa has brought back some level of energy after this exhausting night.
“For?” he asks, confused.
“Your head,” I say, motioning at the cut. I clean and bandage it.
The storm outside is still raging, and I look at the clock. It's almost 3:00 am. I try to stifle a yawn and crack a lame joke at the same time.
"Hey boss," I say. "Think I can get the day off tomorrow?"
"Take the fucking year off," he says. "You deserve it."
"Maybe I should call you boss more often," I retort.
His eyes widen in surprise. Shit. I just flirted with him, and he caught on. After all my lectures on boundaries, I chide myself for being the one to break it first.
"Maybe you should," he says, now grinning at me. “And you know that word works better in some rooms than the others …”
I blush, “Okay, enough. No flirting.”
“As you say, boss,” he laughs.
After the seriousness of the night, this is a welcome change in pace.
“The storm doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon,” says Adrian, looking out of the window. “I just don’t know what happened to Emily tonight.” He drops his head in his hands.
“Hey, kids get sick all the time,” I say, trying to comfort him.
