The lounge was bathed in soft light.
Ethan Sullivan lowered his gaze, carefully applying antiseptic to Sophia Sullivan's wound with tweezers.
His movements were meticulous.
"I told you before—leave these matters to me." His voice was deep. "I meant it."
The cool liquid stung slightly against her skin.
Sophia winced.
"Next time someone like that shows up, don't worry about public opinion or the company." Ethan continued, his tone firm. "I'll handle it."
His mind flashed to Ian Watson rushing to inform him earlier.
He'd been reviewing documents on the top floor.
The moment he heard Leo Carter was causing trouble again, he'd dropped everything and come down.
He never expected the man would dare bring a knife.
"It's just a scratch." Sophia shrugged.
Ethan's eyes darkened.
"Yes. Fortunately, just a scratch."
A wave of cold dread washed over him.
It had happened too fast.
Almost too fast to react.
If Ian hadn't intervened in time—
He couldn't bear to think about it.
"You're bandaging this?" Sophia propped her chin on her hand, watching him unfold the gauze. "Isn't that excessive?"
She noticed Ethan was surprisingly gentle.
Despite his perpetually stern expression, his touch was featherlight.
"Necessary." Ethan met her gaze. "You don't seem to take your safety seriously."
He wrapped the bandage with practiced precision, his expression unreadable.
Perhaps it was time for those legs to "recover."
Sophia withdrew her hand.
"I'll be more careful. Thank you, Mr. Sullivan."
The door creaked open.
Ian Gallagher stood at the threshold, taking in their close proximity.
From this angle, Sophia's slightly bowed head almost looked like—
Were they kissing?
He'd never seen her so at ease before.
Ian lowered his eyes, an unfamiliar bitterness rising in his chest.
The atmosphere between them was too natural.
Ethan's casual concern. Sophia's amused responses. It all flowed effortlessly.
His grip tightened on the doorknob before he finally knocked.
"May I come in?"
Ian offered his usual polite smile.
"Sophia's injury isn't serious. As a doctor, let me handle the bandaging."
He produced fresh gauze and stepped forward.
Ethan smoothly pivoted his wheelchair, blocking his path.
"Our company's medical supplies might not meet professional standards." His tone was courteous, but his gaze was steel. "The scissors are sharp. Wouldn't want you to cut yourself."
The air grew heavy.
Ian's smile faded.
"No need to trouble yourself, Mr. Sullivan. I'm quite skilled with medical instruments."
Their eyes locked in silent confrontation.
The cold glint of Ian's gold-rimmed glasses mirrored Ethan's icy stare.
Ethan reached for the scissors.
"I'll take care of it."
The tension thickened.
Sophia snatched the scissors first.
"Enough. It's practically done anyway."
With a crisp snip, she trimmed the excess gauze.
"Perfect." She nodded approvingly.
Ethan stared at his palm.
The ghost of her fingertips still lingered there.
A faint tingle traveled up his arm, settling uncomfortably in his chest.
His heartbeat stuttered.
His gaze dropped to the gleaming scissors.
They reminded him of Leo's switchblade.
He was no saint.
But where Sophia was concerned, he couldn't tolerate even the slightest risk.
Not one.
"Mr. Sullivan nearly mummified me over a tiny scrape." Sophia chuckled. "Any later and it would've healed on its own."
Ethan looked up, his dark eyes fathomless.
"I was worried about you."