Badass in Disguise Chapter 152

Jade's POV:

The rain tapped against the windows of my apartment, creating a soothing backdrop as Night and I shared a bottle of imported Russian vodka in the living room. The amber floor lamp cast long shadows across the hardwood floor, highlighting Night's golden curls as he lounged on the sofa opposite me.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the comfortable silence between us.

Night's hand instinctively moved toward the concealed weapon at his ankle. "Expecting someone?" he raised an eyebrow, instantly alert despite the alcohol.

I shook my head. "No." I set down my glass with deliberate care and moved to the door with silent steps, my body language shifting subtly from relaxed to cautious.

When I opened it, Ethan Haxton stood there, looking nothing like his usual polished self. His face was pale, almost ashen in the hallway light, hair slightly damp and disheveled. His expensive shirt was buttoned incorrectly, with one tail hanging longer than the other. One hand gripped his side protectively, knuckles white with tension.

"Miss Morgan," he said, his voice strained and lacking its usual confidence. "I apologize for the intrusion."

My eyes immediately assessed him, noting the careful way he held himself and the pain evident in his tightened jaw. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead despite the cool evening. "What happened?"

"I had an... accident. Slipped in the shower." Ethan grimaced as he shifted his weight. "I believe I might have bruised my ribs and shoulder when I hit the tub. The pain is..." he paused, seemingly reluctant to admit weakness, "considerable."

My gaze traveled from his face to his torso. His breathing was shallow—likely from pain—and the way his left hand supported his ribcage suggested significant discomfort. The normally impeccable Ethan Haxton looked vulnerable, almost human.

"Why come here?" I asked, though I already suspected the answer. I kept my tone neutral, betraying neither concern nor annoyance.

"I'd rather avoid hospitals. Too many cameras, too many questions." Ethan attempted a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "The tabloids would have a field day with 'Haxton Heir's Bathroom Mishap.' I remembered you mentioned some medical training, and I thought perhaps..."

Before I could respond, Night appeared behind me, his tall frame filling the doorway. His eyes narrowed as he took in Ethan's disheveled appearance, suspicion and territorial irritation evident in his stance.

"Did you walk into the wrong building?" Night's voice dripped with disdain, his accent becoming more pronounced. "This isn't the emergency room. If you fell, go to a hospital like normal people do. Or call one of your many servants."

Ethan straightened himself despite the obvious pain it caused him. "My apologies for the disturbance. I didn't realize Miss Morgan had company." His eyes flickered between Night and me, noting our casual attire and the evident comfort between us.

"Night," I said flatly, "he's hurt."

"So?" Night folded his arms across his chest. "Not our problem. Especially not yours, darling. We were in the middle of something."

Ethan nodded stiffly. "He's right. I shouldn't have come. I'll find another solution." He turned to leave but winced sharply at the movement, a small involuntary sound of pain escaping him.

"Wait," I said, my decision made. "Come upstairs. I'll examine those ribs."

Night's hand shot out, gripping my arm with surprising force. "No," he said firmly, eyes flashing with possessive anger.

I met his gaze, challenge flashing in my eyes. For a moment, we stood locked in silent confrontation—Night's possessive glare against my resolute stare.

"It's fine," Ethan said, breaking the tension. "I don't want to cause problems between you two."

"You're not," I replied, still looking at Night. I pulled my arm free from his grip with a subtle movement that nonetheless demonstrated my strength. "Wait for me. I won't be long."

Night's jaw clenched, a muscle twitching at his temple. Finally, he stepped aside, his movements deliberately slow as if to emphasize his reluctance. "Fine. But hurry up. Our vodka's getting warm." The threat beneath his casual words was unmistakable.

I led Ethan up to my room, closing the door behind us and turning the lock with a decisive click. I noticed his shoulders slump slightly at the sound, as if the finality of it disappointed him.

"Your friend doesn't seem pleased," he commented, glancing around my minimalist bedroom with evident curiosity.

"He'll survive," I replied dismissively. "Take off your shirt. I need to check your ribs properly."

Ethan carefully unbuttoned his shirt, revealing already darkening bruises along his left side. His torso was lean and well-defined, betraying regular workouts despite his busy schedule. I kept my touch clinical as my fingers pressed gently against his ribcage, checking for displacement or severe damage.

"Breathe in slowly," I instructed, my face inches from his chest as I listened for any telltale sounds of lung damage.

Ethan complied, watching my face as I worked. I maintained a professional detachment, focused entirely on my examination. He seemed almost disappointed by this.

"Nothing's broken," I finally declared. "Bruised ribs, maybe a mild shoulder sprain. The pain will be significant for a few days, but there's no serious damage."

"You're very thorough," Ethan observed. "Where did you learn medical examination techniques? Most people would just say 'take some aspirin.'"

I reached for my first aid kit, removing bandages and antiseptic. "I never give people check-ups," I said as I prepared a bandage, my movements precise and practiced. "I only do surgery."

I began wrapping his torso, my hands moving with practiced efficiency. My fingertips brushed against his skin, and I noticed his heart rate quicken beneath my touch, the pulse at his throat visibly increasing. I glanced up at his face, finding his green eyes watching me intently, a mixture of pain and something deeper, more vulnerable in his gaze.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment.

"Darling," Night called from the hallway, voice laced with impatience and thinly veiled jealousy. "How much longer? Should I order food, or are you planning to play doctor all night?"

I ignored him, focusing on securing the bandage with small metal clips. I then reached into my kit and removed a small vial and syringe.

"This will help with the pain," I explained, filling the syringe with practiced ease. "It's a mild analgesic, nothing that will impair your judgment."

"Is Night more than a friend?" Ethan asked suddenly as I prepared his arm for the injection, his eyes never leaving my face.

I paused, my eyes meeting his. "Night is the person I trust most in this world," I admitted, my voice softening almost imperceptibly.

Ethan's gaze dropped to my hands. "Before I met you, I never envied anyone," he said quietly. "Now I find myself envying quite a few people. First Zach and Ryan, then your brother, then Chris, and now Night."

"Mr. Haxton is too accomplished to envy anyone," I replied, administering the injection with perfect precision, my free hand steadying his arm.

"I grew up abroad with my aunt," Ethan continued, seemingly needing to share this piece of himself. "She raised me, became like a mother to me after my parents... well, that's another story."

I looked at him curiously as I disposed of the needle. "Why are you telling me this?"

Ethan's eyes found mine again, earnest and unguarded. "I envy them because they mean something to you, because they know you better than I do. I can't learn about you through other channels, so I thought perhaps... if I let you know me, you might let me know you." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "It sounds foolish now that I've said it aloud. I don't even know if you want to know me."

My lips curved into the barest hint of a smile, so slight it was barely perceptible. "It's not foolish."

The pounding on the door grew more insistent, the wood actually vibrating with the force of Night's knock. "Darling! If you don't answer me, I'm going to kick this door down! And we both know I can do it!"

I applied the last adhesive bandage to Ethan's shoulder with gentle precision. "We're done here. The pain should subside soon."

Ethan began rebuttoning his shirt, fingers lingering on the buttons. "Miss Morgan, there is something I..."

"Darling!" Night's voice was now a low growl of warning, the kind that had made hardened mercenaries retreat in fear.

Ethan straightened his collar, leaving whatever he had been about to say unspoken.