Chapter 9

Abigail did not know how, but Xander did not give her the chance to admit her inexperience. "In the kitchen, you'll find the recipe and ingredients for a hangover soup. Whip it up and call me when it's ready."

With no choice, Abigail tackled the challenge head-on. Having done household chores her entire life, this task was nothing she could not handle. Following the recipe, she swiftly created a steaming, aromatic bowl of hangover soup. As she emerged from the kitchen, she realized Xander had vanished from the living room. Glancing around, she noticed the master bedroom door slightly ajar, warm light spilling through the gap. Setting the soup down, she texted Xander:

[Mr. Zane, your hangover soup awaits. If you don't need anything else, I'll be on my way.]

Just as she hit send, the doorbell rang, shattering the silence. The sound sent a shiver down her spine. Her mind raced to the possibility of it being Xander's wife. Although her relationship with Xander was strictly professional, she could not help but worry about any misunderstandings that might arise from their late-night encounter.

As she hesitated, Xander emerged from the bedroom wearing only a bathrobe. "Go answer the door," he said, clearly having just showered. His bathrobe hung loosely on his frame, water dripping from his tousled hair. His smoldering gaze, combined with his overall appearance, exuded an irresistible masculine charm. Abigail swallowed nervously. "Mr. Zane, should I hide?"

Xander replied, "Why would you hide?"

Abigail explained. "I don't want your wife to get the wrong idea."

"Don't worry, she won't misunderstand, and I have no interest in you." Xander bluntly repeated her words from earlier that evening.

Abigail knew he was not interested, but she did not want to cause any unnecessary trouble. Since he was not concerned, she decided not to be either. Approaching the door, she opened it to reveal a man and a woman. The woman carried a medical kit, appearing to be in her 40s, while the tall, muscular man sported a distinct scar beneath his left eye. Abigail recognized him from a recent shopping trip to Valtara, where he had been shadowing Xander.

Surprised, the woman said, "Ms. Renee, what are you doing here?"

Abigail did not know either of them, but they seemed to know her. "Who are you?"

"I'm Mr. Zane's personal physician, Dr. Sander, and he is my son, Paxton," the woman said.

"Nice to meet you," Abigail said, stepping aside to let them in.

Dr. Sander smiled warmly at Abigail and walked straight to Xander, skillfully opening her medical kit and administering an injection. "Xander, you know full well that you—" she began to admonish Xander but stopped, glancing back at Abigail.

Xander lounged on the sofa, nonchalant. "Don't worry. If she dares to reveal my weakness, I'll have Paxton feed her to the fish in The Florivera."

Abigail's heart raced with indignation. 'Who have I angered tonight? I had been sleeping soundly when Xander called, then rushed to Plaid Luxe before driving him home and making him soup. After all that, not even a thank you, and he wants to feed me to the fish!'

"Mr. Zane, I've left the hangover soup on the table. If you don't need anything else, I'll be going." Abigail knew that sometimes less knowledge meant more safety, so she decided it was best to leave.

Xander paid her no mind, and as she turned to leave, she found her exit blocked by the towering figure of Paxton, standing like a sentinel at the door.

Abigail shot a desperate look at Xander. "Mr. Zane, I don't want to know about your weaknesses you don't want outsiders to know about. Please, just let me go."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "You think you're an outsider?" He challenged her, implying that as his personal assistant, she should expect to be involved in his affairs.

Abigail hesitated, realizing that her role did bring her closer to him than most. Reluctantly, she took a seat nearby, determined to focus on her phone and avoid getting involved in their conversation. However, their voices resonated in the room, their words seeping into her ears, making it impossible to ignore their discussion.

Dr. Sander admonished Xander with concern. "You know better than to mix drinks, but you still do it. It's like you're playing with your own life."

Xander responded defensively. "I was upset, alright? So, I had a few drinks."

Dr. Sander pressed. "What's got you so down?"

Abigail, too, was eager to know what could possibly trouble the enigmatic CEO. She listened closely, but Xander remained tight-lipped. 'The last time he met his wife, he came back all moody. Is there trouble in paradise? And why didn't the Zane Corporation Executive Assistant Handbook mention his alcohol allergy?' It suddenly clicked—no one in their right mind would expose their own vulnerabilities in a document accessible to all. As the captain of Zane Corporation, Xander had to navigate a sea of risks, so being guarded made perfect sense. The intel she had previously gleaned from the handbook was likely a decoy.

Dr. Sander unexpectedly beckoned Abigail over. "Ms. Renee, could you please lend a hand here?"

Abigail swiftly pocketed her phone and approached. "Dr. Sander, what do you need me to do?"

Dr. Sander told Xander. "Take off your shirt and let Ms. Renee help apply the medication."

Xander not only refused to disrobe but also gripped his collar tighter, as if terrified Abigail would take advantage of him. "I've taken your pills, and I'm fine. I don't need any topical treatment."

Dr. Sander shot back. "You know your body better than I do. Without topical treatment, that rash will plague you for weeks. If you won't listen, I'll have to call your grandma."

Xander's icy gaze cut through Dr. Sander, but she stood her ground, unshaken by his intimidating stare. With a defiant murmur, she said, "You neglect your own body, yet won't let anyone else speak up about it."

Then, Abigail chimed in. "Mr. Zane, it's best to follow Dr. Sander's advice." She did not grasp the whole picture, but she knew that patients should heed their doctors' guidance.

Xander shot Abigail a look that screamed "mind your own business" before turning to Paxton. "Paxton, come here."

Dr. Sander interjected. "Xander, Paxton's hand is injured and hasn't healed yet. Let Ms. Renee do it instead."

Without further protest, Xander relented and began to untie his robe. As it slid off, the fiery rash on his torso stood out more than his chiseled abs. It resembled a searing hot iron, leaving Abigail feeling shocked and concerned as she gazed upon his afflicted form.

Dr. Sander handed Abigail some medical gauze. "Ms. Renee, please apply the medication to the inflamed areas."

Abigail nodded, but her inexperience and fear of causing Xander pain made her clumsy. She reassured him. "Mr. Zane, I'll try not to hurt you."

Xander looked at her with unmistakable contempt.

Abigail fumed inwardly. 'Does he think I want to do this? If it weren't for the promise of double pay, I wouldn't even help him if he begged on his knees.'