Second Chance: Marrying into Wealth Chapter 189

He asked, "Does it hurt?"

"No! I can handle it!" I tried to keep my words to a minimum, afraid I might lose my composure.

Keeping quiet really did make one seem more aloof and imposing.

"You're hurt this badly and didn't say anything?" Christopher's touch became gentler as he applied the medicine.

He even blew on it softly.

The warm breath felt like a feather brushing over me, spreading from my heel to my whole body, making me shiver slightly.

"I was too busy to notice." If I had known it was this serious, I wouldn't have waited until now.

The pain that came after the fact was the worst!

Christopher finished applying the iodine and started putting on the medicine.

When the medicine touched the wound, the pain made me clench my fists instinctively.

My nails dug into my palms, leaving crescent marks.

Christopher's movements became even more gentle, and he softly said, "It'll be over soon, hang in there..."

That "hang in there" from his deep, magnetic voice was so soothing.

It made me pause for a moment.

He had finished applying the medicine.

Christopher then looked up at me and said, "Even if work is busy, if there's a special situation or you feel unwell, you don't have to push yourself. Summit Innovations Group doesn't exploit its employees. Prepare a pair of flat shoes for tomorrow."

Since I was sitting in a chair and he hadn't stood up yet, he looked up at me.

It felt like a queen and her knight.

I was almost startled by my own wild and vivid imagination.

I quickly stopped my wandering thoughts.

Surprised, I replied, "Aren't high heels part of the uniform? Can that be changed?"

Everyone wore them, and if I changed, people would think I was trying to be special.

"The company isn't a military training ground. Dress code is flexible. The company never mandated uniforms; it's just that everyone in the building has gotten used to it. If one person wears their own clothes, it might seem out of place, creating an unwritten rule. But switching to flat shoes isn't noticeable; no one will pay special attention."

After finishing with the medicine, he even put a protective pad over the wound to prevent friction, carefully applying it while saying, "You don't need to worry too much about others' opinions. After all, life is for yourself."

I knew that! But I was not a saint; I was just an ordinary person who couldn't ignore others' opinions.

"Maybe one day, when I'm as strong as you, I won't care about others' opinions." I chuckled.

It was also a compliment to him.

Christopher, surprisingly humble, said, "It's not that I don't care, I just don't care about everyone. I only care about the opinions of those I value."

A bit convoluted. But I understood. Was he thinking about the person he liked again?

I didn't quite get him.

If he cared about someone, why was he so cold and distant, then felt sad after upsetting them?

Why did I feel like Christopher had a bit of a masochistic streak?

I must be overthinking.

Forget it, I didn't want to get involved in Marlowe's matters.

Christopher threw the used paper and cotton swabs into the trash can.

I was about to stand up barefoot to get my shoes, thinking the treated wound shouldn't hurt too much.

After all, if I walked out of the company barefoot and someone took a picture, it could affect the company's image.

But Christopher beat me to it and suddenly picked me up.

I gasped, but afraid of falling, I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck.

Seeing I was secure, Christopher strode out, not jostling me at all.

Realizing what I was doing, I thought it was inappropriate to hold him like this and tried to let go, but he tightened his grip slightly to prevent me from falling.

His action made me feel the warmth and strength of his arms more directly, bringing our bodies closer.

"Christopher, no, put me down! I can walk!"

If someone saw us like this, the already rampant rumors would become even more exaggerated.

"Do you want to take a leave?"

"What leave? I'm asking you to put me down, how did it turn into leave?" Annoyed, I shook his arm, trying to make him give up carrying me.

Instead of being swayed, Christopher tightened his grip, "If you walk down in those shoes, your foot will be ruined by tomorrow. Do you want me to carry you or give you a piggyback ride?"

His voice, low and magnetic, with his breath brushing my face, had no unpleasant smell of smoke, just his unique fresh scent.

I turned my head slightly to avoid his gaze but couldn't help retorting, "It's not that serious. I know my own foot!"

But Christopher ignored my words.

We were already walking through the executive office corridor towards the elevator.

No wonder he exercised daily; he carried me with steady breaths and a rhythmic heartbeat. I could even feel his firm chest.

Compared to him carrying me, I was more worried about being seen and the rumors that would follow, making my heart race with anxiety.

He asked, "You're limping. Aren't you afraid of being crippled by tomorrow?"

He noticed. When I entered his office, thinking he was busy and wouldn't notice, I didn't hide my limp.

Feeling exposed, I stopped talking.

My gaze fell on his focused profile.

Sharp features, high nose bridge, like a perfectly sculpted statue.

Soon, Christopher reached the elevator with me.

I had no time to admire his handsome face because if someone came to use the elevator, they'd see me being carried by Christopher.

And if someone was already in the elevator, we'd face their stares as soon as the doors opened.

Just thinking about it made my scalp tingle.

"Christopher, it's not far to the underground parking. Let me walk!" I pleaded.

My eyes were earnest.

Christopher was firm. "No!"

"Why?" I didn't understand.

"Without shoes, you'll catch a cold!"

Now he was being considerate.

Thanks for the concern.

But Christopher's concern seemed misplaced.

For the person he liked, he was cold when he should be caring.

Now, when he didn't need to be so considerate, he was overly attentive.

It was overwhelming.

"Christopher, please!" I didn't realize I was almost whining.

Only Paula had seen this side of me.

Christopher was suddenly moved. He put me down.

I was delighted.

But the next moment, my smile froze.

He didn't put me on the ground but placed my feet on his shoes.

What if I creased those custom leather shoes?

I tried to step off, but he held my waist, slightly restraining me.

His deep voice reminded me, "Don't move!"

So, this was worse than being carried.

"Mr. Collins, this will make people misunderstand us..."

"What?" Christopher followed up.

I was about to blurt out but stopped myself, realizing something.