The CEO's Fake Wife

Severe Injuries.

Tim and Joe stumbled through the door of the bedroom while bearing the dead weight of the unconscious man between them. “Easy Joe, damn it, Joe, watch your step.” Tim snapped harshly.

“I am watching my steps,” Joe said through gritted teeth, even though he almost lost his balance. “It’s him that weighs like a wardrobe.”

The man hung limp between them, his shoes dragged against the tiled floor, his clothes were scorched and torn in various places, dark with dirt, blood, and soot.

Finally they lowered him to the bed, and both men stood aside wheezing heavily while trying to catch their breaths. Joe raised one of his fingers to his friend. “If I pass out,” he said in between heavy breaths, “ you should leave me where I fall.”

Tim wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Oh, I will.”

The room was a modest one, looking like it had gone through time. The curtains were clean but faded thanks to a lot of washing, and the whole place smelled of cigarettes, tea, and some cheap whiskey.

Joe stood up straight and looked down at the unconscious stranger sprawled on the bed. “Well,” he said, “the good news is that he’s not dead.”

Tim glanced at him and facepalmed. “That’s your medical conclusion? Since when did you become a doctor?”

Joe shrugged his shoulders. “I’m working with what I can see right now.”

“Go get the first aid box.”

Joe gave him a strange look, and a mocking smile appeared on his face. “You talk as if we own one fit that could be used for human emergencies.”

“Joe…” Tim called out to him.

“When was the last time you treated a human, a severely injured one?”

“Never, but as long as he doesn't wound up dead… he should be greatful.” Tim said with a matter of fact tone before taking a good look at the unconscious man.

There were burns on the side of the man’s neck and on one of his arms, red skin that had blistered. Also, there were shallow and deep lacerations across his forearms and ribs where his shirt was ripped open, and this made Tim swear under his breath. True to their discussion, he had never treated a severely injured human, the nearest hospital was miles away and he had flat tires so he could only rely on his inexistent skills and try not to kill someone.

When he looked closely, he also noticed a gash near his hairline which was almost hidden underneath the man's dark strands, and the amount of blood clotted there was enough to suggest a head injury that neither he or Joe had experience in dealing with.

Tim gently placed two fingers on the man’s neck, he was relieved when he felt a weak pulse. “Well? Is he still alive?” Joe called out from the doorway.

“He’s alive.”

Joe walked to his side with a faded plastic first aid box. “Good. This means that we have time to panic later.”

Tim held out a hand to the first aid box. “Come on, let's see what we've got.”

Joe dropped the box by the side of the bed and opened it, the two men were not too shocked by the content. In the box was a single half-used roll of bandage, antiseptic cream, a few plasters, tiny blunt scissors, cotton wool, and a packet of painkillers.

“Brilliant.” Tim broke the silence.

Joe looked at him with a blank expression on his face. “I thought you restocked it last week”

“I meant to restock it.”

“You’ve been talking about restocking it since the Queen was alive.”

“Don’t get started with me. I wasn’t expecting us to pick up a half-dead man tonight and it's all thanks to that dog of yours.” Tim clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Joe slowly exhaled and reached out for the antiseptic. “Get some clean towels and a bowl of warm water. We have to make do with what we have.”

Tim slapped his shoulder with a grin on his aging face. “This is why I love having you around, you come up with good ideas.”

Tim didn’t even bother to look at him, his mind was thinking of how to use their limited items. “I thought it was because you can't do without me.”

“True.”

Tim carefully started to peel off what remained of the man’s ruined outer shirt, trying not to tug too hard. The fabric clung in the various places where the blood had dried, and Tim had to result in using scissors to cut it away slowly to reveal damaged skin. The burns were ugly and the skin around it was inflamed.

Tim soon returned with a bowl, and a clean towel, “This is one of the good ones.” He frowned, revealing that he wasn't really enthusiastic about using the towel that still looked fairly new.

The unconscious man didn’t stir as they cleaned his injuries, but that worried Joe as he was secretly hoping that the man would survive the night.

“He’s got more slices on him than that on a Sunday roast.” Tim muttered in a hushed tone.

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m just being observant.”

“You’re disgusting and observant.”

Tim glanced at the burns that were fairly cleaned up, there was no more sooth or glass shards hidden in them.“Shouldn’t we put something on that?”

“We have antiseptic cream, three plasters, and a huge amount of hope that he doesn't die in our house.” Joe responded.

“So he’s doomed. On the bright side, we can easily sell his watch and afford a memorial for him… then we keep the rest of the money.”

“Here we go again.”

Joe looked at the man's face that was still covered in soot but it barely hid his sharp jawline and attractive face. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Is he’s trouble? And we shouldn't be involved with him.”

Joe nodded in agreement. “Men don’t end up with burns, cuts, and a head wound by acc

ident.”

“He could have fallen off a tree.”