"Oh." Emma naturally didn't dare to disobey. She walked behind Liam and began wiping his back with serious concentration. In her heart, she prayed desperately that if she finished quickly, she might be spared further humiliation.
Since escape wasn't an option, she might as well be obedient and treat it like bathing a cat or a dog, right?
With that thought in mind, her hands moved faster and with more force.
Her nerves gradually began to settle.
As she carefully studied the scars on his back, a pang of sympathy tugged at her heart. She wanted to say something, but swallowed the words back down.
Liam closed his eyes in contentment, his mood utterly carefree.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Then, Emma's hands slipped as she poured the shower gel, sending too much into the water. Soon, the entire bathtub was filled with thick, fluffy foam. Perfect. Now she couldn't see anything she shouldn't. Good.
Emma gradually grew accustomed to the task, her shyness fading. Liam didn't deliberately embarrass her, and she began to feel much more at ease.
Later, as she helped wipe his chest, she noticed a deep scar on his left shoulder. She couldn't help but ask, "How did you get hurt here?" She pointed at the healed wound with her index finger.
Hearing her voice, Liam slowly opened his eyes and saw the serious expression on her face. He answered casually, "I was shot during a mission."
Emma's body stiffened slightly. A gunshot wound?
That must have been incredibly painful, right? She herself would tear up from a simple scrape on her skin.
An indescribable feeling welled up inside Emma. She reached out and gently touched his wound. It was only a few centimeters from his heart. In other words, if the shooter had been more accurate, Liam might not have survived.
She lifted her eyes to meet his dark, cold gaze. This time, Emma didn't look away. Instead, she stopped her movement and quietly stared at Liam. "Does it still hurt now?"
"Sometimes it aches. I've just gotten used to it." A hint of tenderness crept into Liam's unfathomable eyes.
This was the first time a woman had shown such concern about how he was injured. It was a strange feeling, one Liam had never experienced before.
Emma didn't ask any more questions. Her rosy lips moved slightly, and her bright eyes fixed on Liam for a long moment. She didn't speak, only let out a long, soft sigh.
Suddenly, she felt her hand being grabbed by Liam. A strong force pulled her toward him, and her entire body nearly lost control, pressing against his chest.
Emma was startled by Liam's sudden move, panic spreading across her face.
"Do you... like me?" Liam's deep, seductive voice sounded in her ear.
Like him? Liam Williams?
Emma was momentarily speechless. What on earth made this man think she liked him?
"Liam, you're dreaming. How could I possibly like you? As I told you before, I can never fall in love with you. Just wait for our divorce in a year." Emma said, her face twisted with disgust.
A man like Liam was someone she wanted to avoid at all costs. How could she ever like him?
Don't be ridiculous.
Liam frowned, a flicker of confusion passing through his eyes. His face quickly returned to its usual cold indifference.
Right. The man in Emma's heart was probably Noah Taylor or Elijah Clark. She had no choice but to be with him. How could she possibly like him?
His expression darkened. He released Emma and said, "Fine, I'll finish up myself. You can go out."
Hearing those words, Emma finally felt a wave of relief. Her eyes curved up happily. "Alright, take care of yourself. Don't let the wound touch water. I'll go out first."
Emma dried her hands and walked out with quick, light steps.
After leaving, she intended to go to sleep. But then she remembered catching a glimpse of the gauze on Liam's right hand, which was already stained with blood. He must have torn the wound open with his careless movements.
Emma found a fresh roll of gauze and some anti-inflammatory medicine in the cupboard and placed them on the bed. She planned to wait for him to finish washing up and then help him re-bandage his hand. She lay down on the bed to wait for Liam. But as time passed, she grew sleepier and sleepier, her eyelids feeling as heavy as lead. Liam still hadn't come out. Finally, unable to fight it any longer, she drifted off to sleep on the bed.
When Liam finally emerged, he saw the items on the bed. He looked down at his own palm, and a faint expression finally flickered across his cold face.
Emma Johnson... are you worried about me?
You say you don't like me, but you still care, don't you?
Liam walked to the bedside, picked up the gauze and medicine, and tossed them to the floor. He sat down beside her. Her long eyelashes rested delicately against her skin, and her soft hair spread across the pillow. Emma's beauty wasn't the kind that stunned you at first glance, but the more you looked, the more captivating she became. She had a petite, lovable charm.
Staring at the woman before him, Liam's mind was filled with thoughts. He remembered her conversation with Elijah Clark that afternoon.
A flicker of surprise flashed in his dark eyes. Based on the content of their conversation, Liam couldn't find anything suspicious.
It was just an ordinary chat between friends. But their relationship seemed closer than mere friendship.
Liam raised his hand and rubbed his temples, his face full of worry. Things were becoming more and more complicated. Moreover, Elijah didn't seem like the type to easily reveal his true identity.
After a moment, as if he had made an important decision, Liam picked up his phone and walked out onto the balcony.
Looking down at his contacts, he dialed a number and said, "Christopher, please look into the information on my wife and Elijah Clark. I want to see it on my desk tomorrow morning when I get to the company."
"Yes, sir. I'll take care of it right away." Christopher Martin was long accustomed to being on call for Liam twenty-four hours a day.
But why would the boss suddenly want to investigate his wife's background, along with a man he'd never heard of before?
Could it be...
Christopher didn't dwell on the conjecture. He would find out soon enough once he had the information.
Early the next morning, Liam felt a slight pain in his hand. He frowned and opened his eyes to see that Emma had already gotten up and dressed. She was now sitting on the carpet, holding his right hand, carefully applying medicine to his wound.
Liam didn't make a sound. He just quietly watched her. It seemed Emma was afraid of waking him up, as her movements to remove the old gauze were incredibly gentle. The expression on her face was so focused.
Emma was so absorbed in her task that she didn't realize Liam had been awake the whole time, watching her.
Only after she had finished everything did Emma happen to look up at Liam. She was startled to find herself staring directly into his lazy, half-open eyes.