Damien followed her gaze and looked down. The moment he saw the blood staining the sole of her shoe, his expression darkened. "What happened?"

"I think I stepped on a nail." Cecelia leaned against the wall and carefully bent down, intending to take off her shoe herself. But the pain was intense. Balancing on one foot wasn’t exactly easy, either.

Before she could continue, Damien stepped forward and steadied her by the arm. "Don’t." His tone was firm. "This place is filthy. If you pull it out here, the wound could get infected."

"But if I leave it in, I can’t walk." Every movement sent a sharp stab of pain through her foot. Still trying to stay calm, Cecelia said, "It’s fine. It’s only a small injury."

She reached for her shoe again.

The next thing she knew, the ground disappeared beneath her feet.

Damien had picked her up. Completely.

"Stay still," he said. "I’m taking you to the hospital."

Caught off guard, Cecelia instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.

Their summer clothes were thin. Far too thin. She could feel the strength of his chest beneath his shirt, the hard lines of muscle beneath warm skin, and the faint scent of pine lingering on him—clean, crisp, unmistakably masculine.

Her heartbeat instantly went haywire.

Other than her father and brother, no man had ever carried her before. The unfamiliar intimacy left her utterly flustered.

Truthfully, Damien wasn’t faring much better. She was lighter than he’d expected. Softer, too. It was like holding a cloud. At such close range, her skin looked impossibly fair and flawless. His throat suddenly felt dry.

For a brief moment, their eyes met. Then they immediately looked away.

Feeling guilty for causing trouble yet again, Cecelia spoke softly, "You really don’t have to take me to the hospital. It’s not that serious." She hesitated. "Just put me down somewhere clean. I’ll pull the nail out myself. A clinic would be enough."

Damien ignored her entirely. Without slowing down, he carried her out of the warehouse.

Outside, Ryan still had Kevin pinned to the ground. He appeared to be enthusiastically educating him on the consequences of poor life choices. Kevin’s miserable screams echoed across the abandoned factory yard.

The moment he saw Cecelia being carried out, his eyes lit up.

"Cecelia!" He struggled desperately. "Help me! Tell him to stop! I know I was wrong! Please, have mercy!"

Apparently, Kevin still believed she was the type of woman who would feel sorry for him.

He couldn’t have been more mistaken.

Cecelia didn’t even look at him. Instead, she buried her face against Damien’s shoulder and tightened her grip around his neck. "Let’s just go."

A black Mercedes luxury van was parked outside the factory. Cecelia didn’t know much about cars. But even she could tell it was expensive. She blinked. Another luxury vehicle? How many did this man own? Wasn’t he just a model?

Damien opened the door one-handed, settled her inside, then climbed into the driver’s seat.

The engine started smoothly.

Feeling increasingly guilty, Cecelia tried again. "You really don’t need to take me to the hospital." She glanced toward Ryan. "Your friend is still outside. I don’t want to keep causing trouble for you."

Damien shot her a cool glance, then calmly drove onto the road without answering.

The hospital was packed. Patients and visitors flowed continuously through the outpatient building.

Damien carried her inside.

Everywhere they went, people stared.

Cecelia knew perfectly well who they were staring at. Which only made her more embarrassed. Unable to meet anyone’s eyes, she buried her face deeper against his chest.

Following directions from an unusually enthusiastic nurse at the information desk, Damien eventually found the emergency treatment room.

The doctor examined Cecelia’s foot before looking up. "What’s your relationship to the patient?"

Both Damien and Cecelia fell silent. It was a nail injury, so why did that matter?

After a brief pause, Damien answered, "Family."

The doctor nodded. "Go register her first." He glanced at the computer. "If she doesn’t have a hospital card yet, make one and put down a hundred-dollar deposit."

The moment Cecelia heard the words deposit and registration, she instinctively tried to stand. "I can do that myself—"

A hand settled lightly on her shoulder. Damien pushed her back into the chair. "I’ll be right back."

The doctor removed the nail, cleaned the wound thoroughly, disinfected it, prescribed medication, and gave her instructions for recovery. Fortunately, the injury wasn’t serious. A couple of days of rest would be enough.

When everything was finished, Cecelia carefully stood. Her foot was now wrapped in thick white bandages. There was no chance her shoe would fit anymore. Even so, she stubbornly tried to force it on.

Damien bent down, picked up both shoes, and tossed them directly into the nearby trash can. "No need to keep those." Then he looked at her. "I’ll carry you."

The doctor observed the pair thoughtfully. The young man was clearly wealthy. Everything he wore looked expensive. The young woman, meanwhile, was stunningly beautiful. Yet her clothing and shoes were obviously ordinary.

Perhaps because the doctor had a daughter around the same age, he couldn’t resist offering a bit of fatherly advice. He tapped lightly on the glass partition.

"That’s more like it." Then he looked at Damien. "Young man, take better care of your wife. Don’t spend all your money on yourself."

The doctor pointed at Cecelia. "Such a beautiful girl should be cherished. While she’s recovering, take her shopping. Buy her some nice clothes. And a proper pair of shoes."

By the time they left the treatment room, Cecelia’s face was bright red.

Back in the car, she finally said quietly, "Sorry."

Damien glanced at her.

"It feels like every time we meet, I end up causing trouble for you." She lowered her eyes. "I delayed you again today." Pulling out her phone, she added, "I’ll transfer the money."

Then she froze.

The transfer she’d sent him earlier was back in her account. He’d returned it.

"Mr. Damien..."

Damien kept his eyes on the road. "You’ve probably figured out by now that I’m not exactly short on spending money." His voice was calm. "Keep it."

Cecelia fell silent. Then a thought occurred to her.

Maybe he was DL’s top model.

That would explain it. With those looks, that physique, and that presence, women of every age probably lined up to spend money on him.

A place like DL practically printed money. A single generous tip from a wealthy client might be more than her monthly salary. Perhaps he’d come to Corvane for work.

The more she thought about it, the guiltier she felt for taking up his time. At the very least, she should pay the hospital bill. Without saying anything, she transferred him two hundred dollars. The bill had only been one hundred.

Then she quietly put her phone away.

Several minutes later, she spotted a roadside motel.

"Mr. Damien?"

He slowed slightly. "What is it?"

"Could you stop for a moment?"

Assuming she wanted to buy something, Damien pulled over. "What do you need?"

Cecelia pointed toward the motel. "You should get back to work. I’ll stay there for a while."

Damien followed her gaze. His brows immediately knitted together. "You’re staying there?" He stared at the aging motel sign. "What kind of place is that?"

Cecelia blinked. It looked like a motel. The sign even said Lucky Star Inn.

Without another word, Damien pulled back onto the road. "It’s run-down." His tone was flat. "And it’s right next to a hospital." He glanced at her. "Most of the guests are probably patients and their families. Are you trying to catch something?"

Cecelia paused. That... actually made sense. She’d been so focused on not inconveniencing him that she hadn’t thought about it. A few intersections later, she spotted another motel. "This one should be alright, right?"

Damien didn’t answer. Or perhaps he simply chose not to. The vehicle drove straight past it.

Several minutes later, the scenery began to change. Tall stone walls rose into view. Elegant buildings appeared beyond them. The architecture looked like something from a European fairy tale. Like a private castle.

The car passed through ornate gates and continued along a winding driveway. Finally, it came to a stop. Damien turned off the engine. Then he looked at her. "We’re here. You can get out now."