"Water..."
After a while, he wanted water again.
He let out a low groan, his entire face flushed, and the hot breath he exhaled spread over Jean Ellison’s cheeks.
Jean held her breath, carefully observing his sleeping visage, "Let go of , I’ll go get you a glass of water."
He shook his head with his eyes closed.
When he finally relaxed, she could get up, slowly crawling off the bed.
The man on the bed forcefully opened his eyes, seeing a blurry figure that gave him a sense of comfort and familiarity.
He reached out, trying to touch her, but the distance was too great, and his arm fell back weakly.
Jean returned with a cup, placing the glass in his palm, "Drink so water."
"Feed ."
The man let go of his hand, his long fingers were like jade, with well-defined joints, yet he refused to grip the cup.
"Are you a child?"
Jean stood by the bed, asking him.
"I want you to feed ."
He raised his head again, lifting his eyelids, his deep dark eyes gazing at her, his usually sternly handso face appeared sowhat indulgent under the effect of the illness.
"Jean Ellison."
This ti he didn’t call her Claire Caldwell, he saw her clearly.
"Feed ."
His hand covered hers, skin to skin, the heat scorching.
Jean quickly withdrew her hand as if burned, shrinking back, avoiding his eyes, even avoiding looking at his face.
She glanced elsewhere, nudging him slightly.
"The water’s cold, I’ll go mix in so hot water."
She left and didn’t co back, after all, she had already given him the dicine, watching his reluctant manner, it didn’t seem like he was truly thirsty.
Justin Holden grabbed her, stopping her from leaving, raising his chin to glance at the low cabinet in the room.
There was a thermos flask on the cabinet.
"It’s right there."
At this mont, he appeared alert, it seed the dicine had taken effect.
Jean turned her head, walked over to the cabinet, and refilled a cup of warm water.
As she averted her gaze, she caught a glimpse of a heap of things within the cabinet, its doors made of clear glass, the whole piece was made of mahogany.
Boxes of various sizes, colorful, tied with beautiful ribbons, and even withered bouquets.
She was more than familiar with them, they were all the gifts she had once given to Justin Holden.
Every ti they t, she would carefully choose sothing for him, each priced in the five figures, anything cheaper, she felt, would not suit him.
He always glanced coldly at them, without a trace of happiness on his face.
Seeing his dislike, even disdain, she eventually stopped giving them.
All these things, he kept them all?
"What are you looking at?"
The man on the bed suddenly asked her, his voice icy.
"What’s this?"
Jean turned back, pointing her finger at the cabinet.
"Not important."
Justin Holden raised his hand, rubbing his temples, then pointed to the side of his forehead.
Jean tightened her grip on the cup, water spilled onto her hand, standing in the shadows, the movent was obscured by the dim light.
Gifts from unimportant people, naturally, are unimportant things.
His attitude was as before, dismissive of her and her gifts.
A sourness filled her nose, she silently bit her lower lip, placing the cup on the bedside table.
"You’re much better, drink by yourself."
"I’m not better." Justin Holden countered her, his deep dark eyes profound and obscure, "My hands are still weak, can’t lift the cup."
"Soon you’ll have strength."
Jean knew the allergy dicine she gave him was imported, very effective, and would take hold within half an hour.
"Your daughter fed the mango, you’re responsible for ."
"You’re her guardian."
Jean pressed her lips together, sat on the bed, holding up the cup to feed him water, a few drops of clear water dripped from the side of his lips, tracing down his sharply defined face to his handso chin.
Holding the empty cup, she got up, her peripheral vision inadvertently catching sight of the cabinet again.
The clearly red knuckles of her fingers gripping the cup were a blatant reminder, those things were rely emblems of her one-sided and shaless affection.
Justin Holden noticed her strange behavior, she seed very concerned about the contents of the cabinet, a peculiar depth in her eyes.
Do people who look alike have similar tastes?
The phone rang, Justin Holden extended his arm, grabbing the phone from the table.
Jean frowned, watching him, he didn’t seem weak at all.
"Hello."
"Justin, Uncle and Aunt Holden called , they booked a restaurant, it’s a family dinner, make sure you co."
The woman’s voice was coy and sweet.
It was Leah Sutton, Jean recognized her voice.
She didn’t know how she left the master bedroom, hearing the first sentence, she quickly walked out with the cup.
She ran into her room, leaned against the door, sliding down into a sitting position.
Suddenly, she rembered her first date with Justin Holden, when they ran into Uncle and Aunt Holden, she blushed shyly, wondering how to greet them.
Justin turned away, deliberately avoiding his parents’ gaze.
They passed by each other, without noticing one another.
She knew, he felt embarrassed to be seen with her, he didn’t want his family to see her.
The Holdens only knew Claire Caldwell as the only daughter of a wealthy businessman, imdiately agreeing to the family connection, not knowing she was a girl weighing 160-170 pounds.
If you liked soone, why would you hide? He looked down on her, she should’ve realized it long ago.
With Editor-in-Chief Sutton, he was naturally willing to let Uncle and Aunt Holden see his girlfriend, progressing to attending family gatherings together.
If that was the case, why did he ask her to pretend to be his girlfriend a few days ago, did he find it amusing to play with her?
She wanted to question him, but she didn’t have the courage to confront him, tearing things apart with loud argunts was never her style.
She swallowed her choked-up sobs, not knowing how long it took, before silently standing up, leaning against the wall.
What Jean didn’t know was, after the door to the master bedroom closed, a cold voice arose.
"With outsiders, it doesn’t count as a family gathering, besides, I have no ti."
This was Justin Holden’s reply to Leah Sutton.
He hung up, frowning as he glanced at the contact, indeed it was Zoe Holden’s number.
Justin looked at the doorway, then withdrew his gaze, eyebrows knitted tightly together, his lowered, thick lashes trembled lightly.
He leaned against the headboard, raising a hand to wipe at the cool water still clinging to his chest.
He didn’t know what was wrong with himself, why he mistook Jean for Claire Caldwell, they were clearly two different people, just looked similar.
If he hadn’t taken the dicine, regained his clarity, he knew what actions he would have taken.
He felt a sexual attraction towards her, his body had the most evident response instinctively.
She carried a faint scent of pogranate blossoms, very pleasant, her body was soft, felt very comfortable to the touch.
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