Chapter 3
665 Words
That explained why all those nurses had walked away from a salary like this. He wasn't sick. He was bored, and he was amusing himself by tormenting them.
If I had any other choice, I wouldn't be playing his little game either. But I needed the money, desperately.
I turned and smiled at the butler standing behind me. "Where's the equipment room?"
The smile froze on his face. "I'm sorry. The master has forbidden me to give you any kind of assistance."
"That's all right. I just need to know where it is."
I followed his pointing finger. The equipment room was stocked with every professional tool I could have asked for. With this, I could handle the job on my own.
I dragged the ball cart out and began kicking the footballs, one after another, toward the corners of the field. He couldn't have guessed that even after running back and forth, I would still have plenty of breath left, or that the balls would roll precisely into the corners under my feet. I might not be a professional player, but spend enough days around the best in the world, and you pick up a great deal.
I glanced up at the terrace. Adrian was still sitting there, but he no longer looked nearly as comfortable as before.
I sorted the balls again, this time by the degree of wear, a task that took me hours. Just before sunset, I set the last bag down and walked back to him.
"All done." I held out the damage list I had written up.
"Why did you sort them? Have you done this kind of work before?"
"No one keeps the good ones with the worn-out ones, do they?" I wiped the sweat from my forehead. "But I have worked with a team. I've dealt with sports injuries."
It wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the whole truth.
The look he gave me was full of suspicion.
"So I also know what happens when muscles aren't used for a long time." I let my eyes drop to his legs. "I've read your reports. Your condition right now is plainly worse than what's described in them."
The faint smile vanished from his face, and he looked as though he were balancing on the edge of fury.
"Your muscle atrophy has reached a serious stage," I told him gravely. "If you stay like this, you're going to lose more than your career. Eventually, you won't even be able to move yourself from the bed to the chair."
"Do you have any idea what you're saying?" Adrian's temper ignited in an instant.
"When was the last time you had your muscles assessed? A month ago?" I returned a cold smile of my own. Now I understood the look his mother had given me. His current state was enough to make anyone despair. "Or do they always back off the moment you throw a fit like this?"
"If you really had that kind of skill, you wouldn't be here playing nurse." His eyes turned colder than before. "That's enough. Stop pretending you understand any of this."
The truth was, I had been one of the best rehabilitation specialists in the field. If it hadn't been for Julian, I would never have ended up here. But I couldn't risk letting Adrian find out who I really was.
I didn't answer him. I simply followed the butler back inside and went on doing what a nurse was supposed to do. He didn't say another word to me, and I didn't care.
At ten that night, I went, as scheduled, to record Adrian's sleep data. I needed to know whether the pain was disrupting his rest. I knocked, but got no reply. That wasn't normal. According to the chart, he should still have been awake at this hour.
"Adrian?" I pushed the door open at once.
Adrian was lying on the floor, his arms wrapped around his legs, his face contorted in pain.
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