Chapter 66
When Grace woke up, she winced at the bright sunlight. The space around her felt foreign. She sat up and reached for her forehead. It ached, and she realized it was wrapped in layers of gauze.
The bedroom was spacious, with a quiet kind of luxury. Suddenly, the last thing she saw before blacking out came rushing back—Ethan.
She looked up and saw him in the doorway. He was still in his wheelchair, holding a bowl of oatmeal. Slowly, he wheeled over and set it down on the bedside table. “Feeling any better?” he asked.
Grace was flooded with gratitude. Last night, she had been sure Chester was going to force himself on her.
“Much better, Mr. Henderson. How are your legs?”
Her memories of the incident were fuzzy, but one thing was clear-Ethan’s kick had sent Chester flying. His legs were still healing. She’d never be able to forgive herself if she had made things worse for him.
“They’re fine,” Ethan said.
He grabbed the oatmeal and handed it to her. Surprised by the gesture, Grace took it with both hands.
Ethan turned away, his voice even. “Take it easy. You don’t have to go to the office today.”
It wasn’t until Grace glanced outside and saw the daylight that she realized it was already the next day.
The moment she remembered that Jessica was behind what happened last night, her expression darkened. She wasn’t the type to sit back and let someone walk all over her.
“Alright. Thank you, Mr. Henderson,” she murmured, lowering her head as she ate the oatmeal.
Grace saw Ethan head over to the couch from the corner of her eye.
He wasn’t in one of his usual dark suits today. Instead, he wore light-colored loungewear. Unexpectedly, he seemed more approachable without that layer of cold formality.
Grace finished the oatmeal quickly and got out of bed. “Mr. Henderson, I think I learned some massage techniques before. Let me help with your legs.”
Ethan had risked making his injury worse by helping her out last night and even brought her to his place. While she felt uneasy around him, she knew she owed him her thanks.
He held a book in his hand and glanced at her.
Grace thought it was strange how distant and intimidating he seemed in suits, yet here at home, dressed casually, he felt almost disarmingly different-even mesmerizing. No wonder so many socialites in Druville secretly yearned for him.
Ethan hummed in agreement.
Grace pulled up a small stool, sat beside him, and placed her hands on his legs, working her fingers in gently. She wasn’t bluffing-she really had learned massage techniques before.
Most of her memories were fuzzy, but she knew she had taken learning the craft seriously at some point. She just couldn’t remember who it had been for.
A massage could sometimes feel a little too intimate. After a few repetitions, Ethan put his book aside and caught Grace’s wrist. She flinched and looked up.
His expression was calm. The moment his fingers brushed against her skin, warmth flooded her face. She suddenly felt self-conscious and tried to pull back.
“Does your massage have to go this deep?” Ethan asked.
Worried he’d mistake her for a pervert, Grace quickly explained, “It’s better to work through the whole area-it makes a bigger difference.”
Ethan let go of her wrist and slid over on the couch, leaning on his side. Resting his head on one arm, he stared at her without blinking.
Grace had never seen this side of him before. He was nothing like the distant, cold person she was used to. He gave off a dangerous allure as he reclined there.
Her face burned, and she dropped her gaze, concentrating on the massage in silence. After a while, he let out a chuckle.
Grace wished she could just vanish. She knew she probably looked silly now with her head pressed against the couch. She could feel her face turning beet red.
Suddenly, she pulled her hands away, her voice edged with frustration. “Forget it. I’m done.”