Chapter 72 The Warmth in Her Hands
Chapter 72 The Warmth in Her Hands
The servants noticed blood dripping from Nathan’s left palm.
A trail of bright red marked the path he walked, eerily vivid against the floor.
Nothing like this had ever happened before.
But his aura was so cold, so unapproachable, that everyone kept their distance.
No one dared to ask what had happened.
Nathan didn’t need anyone to ask. Pain was enough–it kept him awake, kept him restrained.
It stopped him from wondering what Sparkle and Lucas were doing this late at night.
Were they having dinner together?
Did they hug today?
Did Lucas smoke those cigarettes Sparkle hated?
But just as he entered the living room-
A clear, lively voice rang out with concern. “Nathan, what happened to your hand?”
The sound drifted through the air and reached Nathan’s ears.
His body tensed slightly,
Behind his glasses, his dark eyes lifted in disbelief.
At the foot of the stairs stood the girl in a pretty camisole dress, her glistening peach blossom eyes fixed on his hand.
His heart lurched violently.
His fingers clenched tightly into a fist, trying to contain the blood still flowing freely.
What should he do?
He must’ve scared Sparkle!
The always calm, always composed man showed a rare flicker of panic in his eyes. He looked completely lost.
Adjusting his glasses with one finger, he said, “It’s… it’s nothing.”
The panic in his gaze was swiftly replaced by a sticky sort of excitement.
Sparkle’s home!
Did she fight with Lucas?
How wonderful.
After Stella had learned a few dishes, she went back to her room to read.
She’d have to wait until she found Louis before finalizing her school enrollment.
Otherwise, taking leave every other day would be a hassle.
When headlights streamed through the window, she knew Nathan was back.
She hurried down the stairs.
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But the moment she reached the landing, she saw blood dripping from his hand. It was terrifying.
She rushed over to him and gently grabbed his left hand to check the wound.
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The man’s skin was pale and cold, his fingers long and clean. His hand was still clenched into a fist when she lifted it.
Blood seeped through his fingers–red against white, strikingly vivid.
“Open your hand. Let me see!” Stella’s voice carried clear concern.
The softness of her touch…
It was like a jolt of electricity ran through Nathan’s body, his heart racing as a wave of joy surged to his head.
Sparkle was holding his hand again!
He didn’t want her to see the ugly wound, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her touch.
“It’s really nothing. Just a cut from some broken glass,” he said gently.
Stella tilted her chin to look at him. Dressed in a crisp white suit, he still wore those silver–framed glasses. At some point, the tips of his ears had turned red.
Restrained yet indulgent–devastatingly handsome.
She was about to say something more-
But then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed several heads peeking around the front door.
Leading the group was the butler, eyes sparkling and a wide grin on his face.
Turning slightly, she spotted the chef standing at the kitchen door, also staring at her and Nathan.
Almost instinctively, Stella let go of Nathan’s hand.
Oh god, she’d forgotten there were other people in the villa!
No–forget other people. Even if it was just the two of them, she shouldn’t be holding his hand like that!
Last time, it was because she had hurt him. But this time wasn’t the
same.
Her heart raced unexpectedly, cheeks growing hot. Her thick lashes trembled ever so slightly.
She was just showing concern for her good landlord. That was normal, right?
“As long as you’re okay. That’s all that matters!” Stella clasped her hands behind her back and blinked. “Let the butler help you wrap it up.”
The butler had been happily watching the scene when he was suddenly called out. He pointed at himself. “Huh? Me?”
The warmth of that soft touch still lingered on Nathan’s skin. He shook his head, voice gentle. “No need. I’ll take care of it upstairs.”
“Alright, I’ll wait for you,” Stella said.
Nathan strode upstairs, long legs carrying him quickly as he found the regular ointment and swiftly applied it to his palm.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
His mood had been so bad that his hair was a mess, his face a little worn.
Why hadn’t the butler told him Sparkle was home?
He shouldn’t have let her see him like this.
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When she said she’d wait for him–was there something she wanted to say?
What could it be?
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