A soft sound slipped from Charlotte’s lips, snapping Anthony out of his thoughts. He put his phone down and unfastened the top button of his shirt with practiced ease, then made his way over to the bed and leaned over her.
Was she awake?
Charlotte was still lost somewhere between sleep and waking, hugging his pillow close. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, smooth and shiny, and the loose neckline of her pajamas revealed a stretch of pale skin and the elegant lines of her collarbones. Anthony’s eyes narrowed as a rush of heat swept through him, making his breath catch.
But he quickly pulled himself together. After a steadying breath, he reached for a light blanket and gently covered her up. That’s when he noticed her right hand. It looked a lot worse than it had that morning, even though he had put medicine on it before work and the swelling had almost gone down. Now, in just a few hours, the injury looked even more serious.
Anthony’s gaze turned icy.
Charlotte was a light sleeper and always on guard, so his gentle touch was enough to wake her fully. She opened her eyes, saw Anthony, and was about to say something, but before she could, he suddenly stood and walked out of the room.
Why was he leaving? And if she saw right, he looked seriously annoyed.
Charlotte tossed the pillow aside, her pale cheeks scrunching up in a frown. She felt a little hurt. She’d only agreed to be his girlfriend last night, and he was already acting distant. Maybe she’d made a mistake. This boyfriend needed a lot more work.
While she was still stewing, the door clicked open again and she heard quiet footsteps. Was he back to make it up to her? Well, she wasn’t going to forgive him so easily.
Charlotte kicked off the blanket and stepped onto the cool floor, planning to storm out. But Anthony took one look at her bare feet and frowned. He set down the first-aid kit and a tray of food, then scooped her up in his arms.
“The floor is cold. Why aren’t you wearing slippers?”



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