Seth's gaze dropped slowly and fixated on her face, the dark pools of his eyes holding a deep, chilling stillness. His expression was unreadable, yet an unsettling wave of icy austerity seemed to emanate from his tall frame.

"Dirty?"

Cicely lowered her eyes and repeated, "Yeah, I just put on a new dress, and I don't want to be covered in stains right away."

There was a slight pause in Seth's brow, then Cicely urged again. "Put me down."

At that moment, the doctor who had been quietly observing finally spoke up. "Mr. Diaz, shouldn't we take care of your arm first? I see there's blood on your sleeve."

A flash crossed Seth's eyes, the cool gaze that had been resting on Cicely suddenly warmed with a hint of a smile. When he spoke again, his voice, usually steeped in indifference and depth, carried a trace of pleasure. "I don't think I got any on your dress."d2

Cicely frowned, "I don't like the way you smell."

With an almost imperceptible smile of his lips, Seth turned and gently placed her back on the bed. "Sit tight. Wait for me."

Cicely turned her head away. "You can treat your wound here. I can go out on my own."

"Who said I'm going to treat my wound?" Seth's voice was laced with amusement, tightening Cicely's frown even more as she turned to give him a cold stare, only to meet his handsome features softened by a shallow smile.

He was also shedding his clothes to better hold her. The suit jacket he'd opened for convenience was discarded to the side, revealing a white shirt smeared with blood on the right sleeve.

Cicely involuntarily scrunched her brow. She hadn't been injured this badly when she was pulled up from the cliff, so how come he ended up looking like this? Was it really necessary?

Seth didn't take off the shirt. After calling Charlie on his cell phone to prepare a clean set of clothes, he simply slipped his right arm out of its sleeve.

Cicely sat on the bed while Seth took a seat in the nearby chair, his left side facing her, so she couldn't see the extent of the damage to his right arm. She only heard the doctor's surprised exclamation, "How did it get so bad?"

Cicely glanced at him, her gaze finally resting on his shoulder.

"It looks like it was impaled by something sharp and rough, not treating it immediately could lead to infection and pus, and there's even a high risk of necrosis in the entire right arm." Cicely's fingers trembled slightly on her lap.

"Do you treat patients with your mouth?" Seth glared at the doctor, his cold face carrying a warning. The doctor quickly shut up and silently began cleaning Seth's wound.

Cicely sat on the bed, the intermittent scent of blood and antiseptic wafting over, as blood-soaked gauze after gauze was tossed into the trash can beside her.

Her gaze shifted slowly from the trash can to Seth's profile. His features were like a divine gift, each line connecting them giving absolute tension to his every subtle expression.

His profile was unquestionably striking, but at that moment she could also see the tension in his jawline. It really must hurt.

She thought back to how tightly he had held her on the set, his expression as cold and terrifying as it had been that night when he had forced himself on her mercilessly.

However, when she had been dangling from the edge of the cliff, facing that same face, she really never doubted for a moment that he would let go. And he didn't, even though he seemed to be seriously injured, he didn't let go, instead carrying her all the way to the hospital.

Three years...

Even if he had been relentless then, three years should have worn away at anything.

Like her, like him.

Who knew that three years later, they both seemed to be still living in the past. Yet everything had changed.

After what felt like an eternity, Seth's wounds were finally tended to. Compared to Cicely, Seth's injuries were more severe, but the doctor found treating him much easier than dealing with her.

With a sigh of relief, the doctor stood up, busying himself with packing his medical kit and offering some final advice.

Seth didn't listen, just picked up his phone and dialed Charlie, then barked two words—"Come in."

No sooner had the sound faded than the door opened, and Charlie walked in carrying two bags. One held a shirt and the other a suit jacket.

As if the wound on his arm didn't hurt, Seth dressed himself, adjusted his clothes without showing any signs of pain. Once he was fully dressed, Seth turned to her, looking fresh and untroubled as he approached. "Still dirty?"

Dirty?

The brand-new, expensive shirt and suit were crisp and impeccable, far from any notion of "dirty."

Cicely didn't answer his question, but instead pushed herself off the bed to stand.

Seth's dark eyes followed her, blocking her path, unmoving. "Move aside. I want to leave."

Seth stayed put, his voice low and raspy as it slowly filled the room, "Can I hold you now?"

Cicely's brow furrowed, and she glared at him. "Have you never held a woman in your life?" Seth nodded faintly, hummed an acknowledgment.

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