But President Sinclair is not a star, he’s his boss, the big boss he cannot afford to offend. Even though it doesn’t align with his usual principles, he still did his utmost to do a good job.
After all, being a top makeup artist, he worked efficiently, and in no time had already applied a layer of concealer on Adam Sinclair’s face, particularly taking care of the bruised spots at the corner of his mouth and the left side of his face. Perhaps he got too involved in his work and forgot who he was dealing with; as he blended the concealer with a brush, he couldn’t help but exclaim, "President Sinclair, your skin is really good. I’ve worked with many male stars, and your skin is the best I’ve seen. It holds makeup incredibly well. This kind of skin looks great on camera."
Realizing that the person he was doing makeup for was not a regular male star but his big boss, he immediately fell silent as if he’d said something wrong and cautiously explained, "I didn’t mean to suggest President Sinclair you should debut, I was plimenting your skin."
"Mm," Adam Sinclair replied casually without opening his eyes.
The makeup artist dared not say more and meticulously quickened his pace with the work at hand.
Adam Sinclair’s skin was not only fair but also had defined features, a rarity even among male stars. As the makeup artist continued, he felt a strong urge to craft a seductive makeup look for him. However, reason pulled him back from this impulse.
Twenty minutes later, he applied a layer of setting powder to Adam Sinclair’s face and put away the brush, "President Sinclair, it’s done."
Adam Sinclair opened his eyes.
Seeing with keen perception, he immediately offered a mirror, "Here’s a mirror, Adam, please check if there’s anything you’re dissatisfied with, and I’ll make adjustments."
He never usually offered adjustments for anyone he did makeup for; if big-name clients wanted changes, they would have to get another artist.
Adam Sinclair opened his eyes and looked at the person in the mirror.
The bruised areas at the mouth corner and side of the face were pletely covered by the foundation. It’s unclear what method he used, but the foundation blended seamlessly and matched the skin tone perfectly. One wouldn’t notice the injuries unless looking very closely.
The foundation was nearly imperceptible as well, barely detectable.
He turned his head slightly for another look and then satisfied, narrowed his peach blossom eyes, and instructed the makeup artist to put away the mirror, "Have Finance add a 15 thousand bonus at the end of the month."
Though the makeup artist wasn’t in need of 15 thousand dollars, earning that much just for concealing the boss’s wounds was a delightful surprise, "Thank you, President Sinclair."
Adam Sinclair felt around the injured area at the mouth corner and with his brows furrowed, asked, "This isn’t going to e off, is it?"
The makeup artist thought for a moment before realizing he was referring to the foundation and immediately assured him, "Rest assured, President Sinclair, I used setting powder, the concealing cream won’t e off easily, as long as it doesn’t get wet, it’s pretty secure."
"As long as it stays on," Adam said, reassured, standing up from the chair and instructed him, "You can leave for now, be careful not to let others see."
"...Alright," the makeup artist wasn’t sure who he meant by others, but decided in his mind to exit through the back door of the hospital later, it didn’t matter who it was, choosing a secluded exit was always safer.
After agreeing, Adam Sinclair walked right past him and headed towards the VIP area of the hospital...
Originally, he should have gone to see Olivia Lewis a while ago, but was delayed by Austin Harper. He glanced down at his watch and hastened his pace.
The Military Hospital was vast, and it took him more than ten minutes to reach outside Olivia Lewis’s ward.
Before entering, he touched the corner of his mouth to ensure the bruise was invisible, then pushed the door open to go inside—
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