Chapter 2

Madeline paused. Then, she turned and dipped a cotton swab into an oral disinfectant. She instructed, "Open your mouth."

Sawyer's gaze was as venomous as a snake's as he eyed her. He sneered. "Are you giving me orders?"

Madeline's lowered lashes trembled. Her voice cooled further as she said, "Mr. Holt, please open your mouth."

Sawyer suddenly snapped. "One comment and you're upset? Are you giving me attitude?"

She slowly lowered her hand and finally lifted her gaze, confusion and fatigue in her eyes. "If you don't want me to tend to you, Mr. Stark is at the door. I'll tell him to come in."

She turned to leave.

Sawyer moved on instinct, but only managed to grab her long hair. Once he had it, he refused to let go.

Madeline let out a muffled groan and turned back with her head tilted. Her eyes, which had been calm and clear earlier, were now misted over.

Was she in pain? It served her right.

Sawyer tugged her hair, arrogantly asking, "You think it's your place to decide for me?"

Madeline took a deep breath, came back, and picked up the cotton swab. She pressed it directly to the cut on his lip.

She was right there. He hadn't had to ask, and she had obediently come back on her own. Sawyer's mood lifted for no reason, but he still didn't want to let her off the hook.

"It's just a plot of land. If I had sent Fred, he would've wrapped things up in seven days at most. You, on the other hand, were gone for half a month. Is this all you're capable of?"

Madeline's hand trembled.

Pain shot through Sawyer, making him hiss and yank her hair again, nearly hauling her into his arms. He snarled, "Did you do that on purpose?"

She tried to control herself, but her hands still inevitably landed on his chest.

He let out a low grunt. His breathing instantly grew heavy. His sharp gaze drifted from her face down to his own chest. He watched as she recoiled like she'd been electrocuted. He kept his head down as he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

Sawyer had forgotten that he wasn't wearing a robe. Madeline's hands were cool; the feel of skin on muscle drove his fevered body into greedy madness. He wanted more. He wanted her cold hands to roam everywhere…

Madeline took a large step back and lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry, Mr. Holt. The situation was a little complicated. The land was tied to quite a few things—"

Sawyer had no patience for that and cut her off. "You didn't just run into an old flame back in your hometown, did you?"

Her head snapped up, her expression unreadable. As he tried to decipher it, she dropped her eyes again and pulled her hair out of his grip. Her actions were so rough that he hurriedly let go, but a few strands still tore free and fell into his palm.

"What are you doing?" he growled. It was as if the broken strands of hair were from his own head. He was angrier than she was.

Madeline tossed the cotton swab into the trash can and headed for the door..

"Stop right there! You're the one who can't deliver. You delayed your core function for days over this, and I can't even say a single word about it? How dare you show me such an attitude!"

Sawyer's head was already spinning, and the way Madeline walked away without hesitation made his chest tighten with fury. Barely being able to stand, he gripped the sink counter as a hideous look crept onto his face. The high fever made his eyes blaze.

If Madeline really dared walk out on him that day, he would eat her alive.

She walked to the bench at the foot of the bed and picked up his robe. Then, she turned back into the bathroom to help him into it.

The stormy look on his face slowly cleared as he watched her walk back toward him. He followed her with his eyes as she circled him, dressing him and tying the belt. Her scent wrapped around him.

He had more cutting words to say, but he couldn't bring himself to utter them anymore.

Madeline took a fresh cotton swab, dipped it in medicine, and looked at him. "Mr. Holt, we need to medicate the inside of your mouth."

This time, Sawyer didn't say anything. He stared into her eyes as he opened his mouth.

However, this wasn't enough. He was six feet and three inches, while she was only around five feet and eight inches in heels. The height difference made it hard for her to see the wounds inside.

She looked at him, hoping that he would bend down on his own. However, all he did was watch her hazily through fevered eyes as she struggled. He had no intention of lowering his head.

She felt that he was deliberately bullying her. He was supposed to be a domineering CEO, yet in private, he was more like a street punk.

Madeline started to set the cotton swab down again.

Sawyer's face instantly darkened. "Haven't you had enough of this? You've been giving me so much attitude over a bit of medicine!"

She said plainly, "You're too tall, and I can't reach. If you won't bow your head, I'll get a chair."

The fever truly addled his brains. He didn't process the actual purpose of the chair and even mocked her. "You're going to stand on a chair while tending to my wounds? What are you, a juggler?"

Madeline didn't say anything. She got a chair and put it behind Sawyer. "Please sit, Mr. Holt."

The smile on his lips went stiff. His mood soured again, and his temper flared. "Stop ordering me around. I want you to stand on it while you treat me. You think you're in the right when you're so short?"

Madeline immediately kicked off her heels and got onto the chair.

Sawyer nearly died of rage. But when he caught sight of her soft feet on the black velvet seat, his eyes, already red from his fever, burned even redder.

He shook his head to force himself to look away, but the high fever seemed to have affected his brain. He couldn't control it.

Madeline called him a few times. When he kept his head lowered, she carefully lifted his face with a gloved hand.

The cool touch made him narrow his eyes in relief, and he finally settled down. With his head tilted, he could see the soft fullness of her chest. His already heavy breathing grew more labored.

But she didn't seem to notice it. She gripped his jaw and gently tended to the wounds inside his mouth. The soft tissue was torn up too severely. There were wounds everywhere.

She couldn't help frowning, and the worry she'd tried her best to hide almost spilled over. She leaned close, studying the cuts inside his mouth, pressing her lips tight so the prickling of her nose wouldn't lead to tears.

Madeline remembered what she'd seen when she'd walked in earlier. Sawyer hadn't been brushing his teeth. He'd been stabbing his mouth and destroying the inside of it.

She felt anger, worry, and urgency, but even if she had a thousand words to say, she couldn't. She couldn't let any of her feelings show. She had to act cold toward him to put him at ease.

Sawyer had severe psychological issues—he had gynophobia, a fear of women. A woman's touch, especially a kiss, could send him into a frenzy and even cause him to self-destruct.

Although medication and therapy had eased his symptoms a lot, Madeline still didn't dare cross the line. She had waited seven years to reach his side. To stay by him, she'd sealed away her feelings for him.

She didn't dare let him know that she had loved him for seven years, nor that she was the young woman he had once saved from a group of thugs.

Because when she'd sought him out back then, her heart full of hope, he'd said harshly, "You are never to appear in front of me again. Ever!"

To Madeline, Sawyer was her savior and her salvation. He was also the man she'd fallen for at first sight and someone she could never cut loose.

She was stubborn, whether in her studies or in love. Out of longing and admiration for him, she'd selfishly defied his command and secretly worked her way to be by his side. So, she absolutely couldn't let him know who she was.

And yet, in countless nightmares, she had cried and chased him, asking why he'd forbidden her from appearing before him again.

But every time, there was no answer.