Chapter 33
It was happening again–for what felt like the hundredth time.
The sting on her cheek lingered, pulsing beneath the surface, impossible to ignore.
Gideon’s smile had faded. His gaze locked on the fresh bruise, his voice icy. “Didn’t I tell you to wait in your room? Why weren’t you inside?”
Vernon arrived just in time to witness the scene, wishing he could melt into the elevator and disappear.
Good grief, after all the rushing, the young master still didn’t make it in time!
“Just standing there taking a beating without fighting back,” Vernon muttered under his breath, “Anyone who didn’t know better would think Miss Selwyn has some strange tastes.”
Celestine bit her lip, a strange ache rising in her chest.
When Dahlia slapped her just now, she hadn’t felt like crying.
When Chester openly took Dahlia’s side, and even chased after Joanna right in front of her, she still didn’t want to cry.
But Gideon’s words–cold and careless–somehow wrapped around her heart, squeezing tight.
She figured he must think she was nothing but trouble.
Celestine sniffed, turning away as her eyes stung with tears.
Well, he wasn’t wrong. Every time fate threw them together, she left him with nothing but a mess to clean up.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Prescott. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
Gideon noticed the flush in her eyes and cursed himself silently.
Why had he said that? What was he expecting her to do in a situation like that?
Vernon, watching from the side, grew anxious.
Come on, sir, if you don’t take your chance to comfort her now, then when?
Gideon straightened his usually relaxed posture, struggling to find the right words,
After a
an awkward pause, he managed, “That’s it?”
Vernon blinked. Walt, what?
Well, there goes your chance, boss.
Gideon shot him a warning look.
Vernon immediately piped up, “I’ll get some ointment for Miss Selwyn
Celestine started to protest, “That’s not necessary-” but Vernon had already
slipped away.
Gideon turned and pushed open the door to the room, which had been left ajar for him.
He ran his tongue along his teeth, letting out a humorless chuckle.
So, it hadn’t been locked after all.
Just that she’d been too principled to come in without permission.
“The charity drive is over. You can come in now.”
Celestine blinked in surprise.
Was he calling Chester a beggar? The random thought nearly made her laugh.
She took a steadying breath, collected herself, and carried the soup inside.
Just like last time, she set out the meal carefully on the coffee table.
Gideon didn’t speak, just watched her from the sofa, his gaze unreadable.
The sudden silence felt stifling. Celestine busied herself, unable to meet his eyes. Vernon soon returned, handing her a small bottle of bruise cream.
Gideon flexed his wrist out of habit, watching as she dabbed the ointment on her cheek.
She glanced at his hand, freshly unwrapped from its bandage, and asked quietly, “Is your injury any better?”
“Ruined,” he replied dryly.
Celestine’s eyes widened in alarm.
She was about to press him for details when he continued, “Not that bad.”
“Oh…” She tried to
had a sense of e, a little awkward. She never would’ve guessed Mr. Prescott
Gideon spoke again, “It’ll probably scar, though.”
Celestine attempted to reassure him. “Are you sure? Maybe not?”
He gave a low, almost amused laugh, and for a moment, his usually cold eyes warmed.
But just as she felt herself relax, Gideon added, “No, really. It will.”
He lowered his gaze, thick lashes casting a shadow over his eyes.
He opened his palm.
His hand, elegant and strong, was lined with faint calluses–far from the pampered hands she’d always imagined. Across the base of his thumb, a dark scar cut through the skin, deep and unmistakable..
Celestine froze.
He hadn’t shown a hint of pain when he caught the knife that day.
The wound was much worse than she’d imagined.
Her eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling with guilt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Gideon’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he watched her.
“Don’t cry. It doesn’t hurt.”
