Chapter 74
After exchanging a few more words, they reluctantly ended the call.
Megan curled up on the couch, hugging herself gently as if to conjure a sense of security.
Her mind wandered through a collage of memories.
She reminisced about the golden days of her childhood spent with her brother, the way he had comforted her every night after their mother passed away. He would read her fairy tales, sing lullabies until her eyes drooped shut.
He would carry her on his back to school, after the chauffeur pulled up at the school gates.
Wyatt was the best brother in the world.
The night deepened around her.
Megan fell asleep in the hospital room, her delicate face resting upon her knees, her beauty cold yet fragile. She seemed like a delicate piece of glass art, ready to shatter at any moment.
Outside the room, Sullivan stood silently. He watched Megan for a long time.
The nurse, speaking in a hushed tone, stood beside him. “She’s been like this since watching the news tonight, Mr. Lowry. Do you want to go in and wake Mrs. Lowry? It can’t be comfortable sleeping like that.”
Sullivan’s gaze was unreadable. After a long moment, he turned and walked away, leaving behind a terse, “Don’t tell her I was here.”
Descending to his black Bentley, his mood was foul. He lit a cigarette, took a drag, but it only intensified his agitation, and he snuffed it out abruptly.
As he put out the cigarette, he couldn’t help but think there were plenty of women in the world, plenty of beautiful ones at that–no need to spend so much energy and money on Megan.
A reluctant wife was hardly worth it.
Yet, he continued to do so.
It must be a matter of pride.
He couldn’t bear to let her go, to have her in another man’s arms: After all, having shared a bed for years did make a difference.
The next day. Sullivan arrived at the hospital in the afternoon. He had strained his thigh muscle while riding a horse, and Bianca accompanied him. He didn’t go to the emergency room but had a doctor come to Megan’s room to dress his wound.
Sullivan sat on the couch, casting a glance at Megan.
Megan leaned against the headboard, seemingly engrossed in her book, indifferent. But he had seen her vulnerability the night before and knew it was just a facade.
Sullivan diverted his gaze and directed the doctor, “Leave the medical kit.”
His injury was minor, and the doctor agreed.
After the doctor left, Bianca volunteered eagerly. “Mr. Lowry, let me help you with the dressing!”
Sullivan leaned back, his arms resting on the back of the couch, his tone icy, it’s my thigh that’s injured. Blanca, are you planning on taking my pants off?”
Bianca apologized profusely, “Mr. Lowry, I didn’t mean that!”
Sullivan lifted his chin slightly. “Aren’t you leaving yet?”
Once Bianca had left and the door was closed, Sullivan tumed to the person on the bed, “Come and help me with the dressing!”
He had been there for a while, and only then did Megan look up at him.
Despite the injury, Sullivan was the epitome of sartorial elegance, his classic black and white suit impeccable. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the enticing movement of his Adam’s apple, enhancing his masculine allure.
As Megan got off the bed, Sullivan took off his jacket and slowly unbuckled his belt.
Under the bright lights, he stood before her unashamedly lowering his trousers to the crook of his thighs, revealing a stretch of seductive lines, leading straight into his black boxer briefs. The thin fabric outlined his masculinity…
Sullivan looked up, catching Megan’s gaze. His voice became unexpectedly hoarse, “After three years, haven’t you seen enough?”
