Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle - Chapter 72: Chapter 72
You are reading Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle, Chapter 72: Chapter 72. Read more chapters of Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle.
The Moore Group cleared out in no time. There wasn't even a receptionist left in the whole building.
The lights were still on inside. Lorraine thought Eugene was clearly working late. She headed upstairs and knocked on the door to his office.
The door finally swung open. Eugene stood there in his white shirt and black pants, tugging his sleeve absentmindedly. He glanced up, then froze when he saw Lorraine. His eyebrows shot up. "What're you doing here?"
His voice was rough and hoarse, making Lorraine's breath catch. "You're hurt," she blurted out.
"Who told you that?" Eugene replied, acting like it was nothing as he let go of his sleeve. His face was flushed, and even though he tried to keep a straight face, he didn't look as sharp as usual.
"I heard from Dr. Eaton at the hospital," Lorraine said, glancing at the air conditioner. "Why is it set to eighteen degrees? Isn't that too cold?"
Eugene stayed in the doorway, not moving aside, just looking at her coolly. "Do you need something?"
Lorraine felt a little awkward at his question. She fidgeted with the plastic bag in her hands, and then quickly handed it over. "Um, Dr. Eaton asked me to bring this. I was passing by, so I dropped it off."
He was so distant, like they were total strangers. That made her chest tighten for no reason.
Eugene glanced into the bag. "Lorenzo actually went to your school's infirmary for medicine? That's a lot of trouble for him."
Lorraine felt a pang of guilt and tried not to show it. She widened her eyes and pushed the bag a little closer, but Eugene's gaze seemed to see right through her. She was starting to lose her composure.
In the silence, she heard him stifle a low, suppressed cough. His handsome face was tinged with red, but he clearly didn't want to look sick in front of her.
Feeling a little sad, Lorraine pulled the bag back. "Let me take your temperature, okay? I'm basically a doctor now." He got hurt saving her. She couldn't just walk away and pretend nothing happened. She'd check his temperature, then leave.
Eugene pressed his lips together, clearly not thrilled, but just stared at her.
His stare made Lorraine uneasy. "Maybe you should just get back to work. I'll go," she said awkwardly.
"Come in," he finally said, turning and heading back to his desk. He pulled out a stack of documents, flipped to a page, and picked up his pen.
Lorraine felt completely ignored. She took a deep breath, telling herself in her heart, 'Just treat him like any other patient. You're just an intern, Lorraine.'
She opened the plastic bag, carefully checked the alcohol swabs and cooling patches inside, and then picked up the thermometer.
Eugene barely lifted his head, giving the window a casual glance.
Lorraine assumed he was lost in work, so she moved even more quietly, not realizing that while he leaned back in his chair, looking all calm and aloof, he was actually sneaking glances at her the whole time.
She was still wearing that pale blue, navy-collared dress that fell to her knees, her hair tied up in a ponytail. With her head lowered, her lashes cast a soft, peaceful shadow across her delicate face.
Maybe it was nerves, or something else, but a few tiny beads of sweat had popped up on the tip of her nose, making him want to reach out and wipe them away.
But then she suddenly looked up. Eugene smoothly pulled his gaze away, quietly signed his name on the paper in his hand, and closed the folder with a perfectly serious expression.
Lorraine walked over and handed him the thermometer. "Check your temperature," she said.
"It's probably just a fever. I'm not dying," Eugene said, standing up and grabbing another folder from the shelf. "I've got a mountain of work. Why don't you drop it and head out?"
"No way," Lorraine snapped. She grabbed the blue folder from his hand and slapped it down on the coffee table. "If you're sick, act like it. Who's gonna care if you don't?" By then, she was steaming.
Eugene seemed stunned, staring at her in a daze. Their eyes met, both of them freezing for a second before quickly looking away.
He lowered his head, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Lorraine quickly waved her hands. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm just giving you professional advice, as a doctor," she said, her tone much softer now.
Eugene looked at her, his gaze suddenly intense. "And what exactly do you think it's the wrong idea?"
"N-nothing," Lorraine stammered, wishing she could just bite her tongue off. She pushed the thermometer a little closer to him. "Just check your temperature. I-I'm going to the restroom."
She really couldn't stay in the same room with him any longer. She hurried off to the restroom next door, trying to calm her breathing and her heart, which was about to race out of control again.
Her phone buzzed. She quickly pulled it out. Sheila had texted: [Are you done yet? If he's not dying, hurry up and come down.]
Eugene sat alone in his office. He picked up the thermometer, rolling it between his big hands, a glint flashing in his eyes.
He stood up, the thermometer still in his palm, and walked over to knock on the restroom door. "Are you okay in there? I want to wash my face. It's really hot."
Lorraine was just texting Sheila back, saying she'd be down soon, when the knock startled her. She quickly shoved her phone back in her pocket. "Sorry, you go ahead," she said.
She tried to leave the restroom, but Eugene blocked the door. Asking a sick man to move was unthinkable, so she edged past him cautiously.
As her chest brushed his, a wild spark shot through Lorraine, leaving her breathless and numb. Her face flamed red, and she stumbled back, desperate for distance.
Eugene, meanwhile, acted like he hadn't noticed her embarrassment at all. He just gave the thermometer a practiced flick and, right in front of her, slipped it under his tongue, all business.
Lorraine finally let out a sigh of relief and hurriedly lowered her head to finish texting Sheila. [He's taking his temperature now. I'll be down in a minute.]
Eugene closed the door, took the thermometer out of his mouth, cranked the hot water on full blast, and tossed the thermometer straight into the sink, letting the water run over it.
Lorraine waited outside, heard nothing, and got worried. She knocked—no answer. 'What if he passed out in there? Fevers that high can cause seizures,' she thought.
She couldn't wait any longer and pushed the door open, rushing inside. "Eugene!"
Eugene stood by the sink, drenched, thermometer in front of him. "Fever's kicking in. Tried cooling off with water, but no dice," he said, wincing at his hurt arm.
Lorraine's heart twisted with worry. She quickly grabbed the thermometer and froze in shock. "107 degrees? That can't be right."
She knew that 107 degrees was basically fatal. Her hands shook as panic set in. She rushed over to support him. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital."
Eugene gently dodged her hand and rubbed his brow, looking utterly exhausted. "Actually, I've hated hospitals since I was a kid. The smell of disinfectant is just awful."
His voice was low and soft, every word tugging at Lorraine's heartstrings. She felt her resolve melting away, her heart turning to mush.
She reached up to touch her own face. "Why is it so hot here?" It was weird that there was so much steam.
"Hot?" Eugene coughed, barely holding himself up by the sink. "Maybe I gave it to you. You should bounce; don't stick around," he said, sounding all selfless, like he only cared about her.
Lorraine felt like she was drowning in guilt, anxiety gnawing at her. "You have a fever because of your injury, not a virus. It's not contagious."
"Really?" Eugene's eyes started to lose focus, looking at her with complete trust. "No wonder you're going to be a doctor. If you say so, I believe you."
Hearing the word "doctor" made Lorraine feel the weight of responsibility. If she left now, she'd never forgive herself. Taking a deep breath, she persuaded him. "So listen to me, okay? Let's go to the hospital first."
"Okay." He nodded.
Lorraine finally felt a weight lift off her chest. "Then I'll—"
"I'll go lie down for a bit and call Isaac to take me to the hospital. You should go ahead," Eugene said.
She thought for a moment, and then shook her head. "I'll wait until Isaac gets here. Go ahead and make the call."
"Alright." Eugene calmly pulled out his phone and dialed.
Lorraine stood right across from him, watching as he made the call.
The call connected. "Isaac, come to my office and drive me to the hospital," Eugene instructed coolly, and then hung up before she could catch a glimpse of the screen. He didn't call Isaac at all.
Lorraine blinked in surprise. "That was it?"
"Did you think I needed his permission?" Eugene replied.
She said nothing. Eugene was the boss after all.
Eugene took a step forward, but his footing seemed a bit unsteady. Lorraine hurried over and instinctively supported him. "Do you want to sit down and rest for a bit?" she asked.
"Over there is fine," he said weakly, pointing toward the long sofa in the office.
A pang of jealousy gripped Lorraine as she thought, 'He's refusing the hospital trip with me, likely waiting for Isaac to rendezvous with Elsie.' She masked her feelings, steadying him as she slowly guided him to the sofa.
Halfway there, she accidentally bumped her foot against the leg of the coffee table and stumbled forward. Eugene quickly reached out to catch her, his nose brushing past her hair and catching that familiar, sweet scent.
They were just about to regain their balance when, for some reason, Eugene's hand went slack, and the two of them tumbled onto the sofa—Lorraine underneath, Eugene on top.
"Guess I ran out of strength. I didn't crush you, did I?" he asked weakly, making no move to get up.
The lights were still on inside. Lorraine thought Eugene was clearly working late. She headed upstairs and knocked on the door to his office.
The door finally swung open. Eugene stood there in his white shirt and black pants, tugging his sleeve absentmindedly. He glanced up, then froze when he saw Lorraine. His eyebrows shot up. "What're you doing here?"
His voice was rough and hoarse, making Lorraine's breath catch. "You're hurt," she blurted out.
"Who told you that?" Eugene replied, acting like it was nothing as he let go of his sleeve. His face was flushed, and even though he tried to keep a straight face, he didn't look as sharp as usual.
"I heard from Dr. Eaton at the hospital," Lorraine said, glancing at the air conditioner. "Why is it set to eighteen degrees? Isn't that too cold?"
Eugene stayed in the doorway, not moving aside, just looking at her coolly. "Do you need something?"
Lorraine felt a little awkward at his question. She fidgeted with the plastic bag in her hands, and then quickly handed it over. "Um, Dr. Eaton asked me to bring this. I was passing by, so I dropped it off."
He was so distant, like they were total strangers. That made her chest tighten for no reason.
Eugene glanced into the bag. "Lorenzo actually went to your school's infirmary for medicine? That's a lot of trouble for him."
Lorraine felt a pang of guilt and tried not to show it. She widened her eyes and pushed the bag a little closer, but Eugene's gaze seemed to see right through her. She was starting to lose her composure.
In the silence, she heard him stifle a low, suppressed cough. His handsome face was tinged with red, but he clearly didn't want to look sick in front of her.
Feeling a little sad, Lorraine pulled the bag back. "Let me take your temperature, okay? I'm basically a doctor now." He got hurt saving her. She couldn't just walk away and pretend nothing happened. She'd check his temperature, then leave.
Eugene pressed his lips together, clearly not thrilled, but just stared at her.
His stare made Lorraine uneasy. "Maybe you should just get back to work. I'll go," she said awkwardly.
"Come in," he finally said, turning and heading back to his desk. He pulled out a stack of documents, flipped to a page, and picked up his pen.
Lorraine felt completely ignored. She took a deep breath, telling herself in her heart, 'Just treat him like any other patient. You're just an intern, Lorraine.'
She opened the plastic bag, carefully checked the alcohol swabs and cooling patches inside, and then picked up the thermometer.
Eugene barely lifted his head, giving the window a casual glance.
Lorraine assumed he was lost in work, so she moved even more quietly, not realizing that while he leaned back in his chair, looking all calm and aloof, he was actually sneaking glances at her the whole time.
She was still wearing that pale blue, navy-collared dress that fell to her knees, her hair tied up in a ponytail. With her head lowered, her lashes cast a soft, peaceful shadow across her delicate face.
Maybe it was nerves, or something else, but a few tiny beads of sweat had popped up on the tip of her nose, making him want to reach out and wipe them away.
But then she suddenly looked up. Eugene smoothly pulled his gaze away, quietly signed his name on the paper in his hand, and closed the folder with a perfectly serious expression.
Lorraine walked over and handed him the thermometer. "Check your temperature," she said.
"It's probably just a fever. I'm not dying," Eugene said, standing up and grabbing another folder from the shelf. "I've got a mountain of work. Why don't you drop it and head out?"
"No way," Lorraine snapped. She grabbed the blue folder from his hand and slapped it down on the coffee table. "If you're sick, act like it. Who's gonna care if you don't?" By then, she was steaming.
Eugene seemed stunned, staring at her in a daze. Their eyes met, both of them freezing for a second before quickly looking away.
He lowered his head, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Lorraine quickly waved her hands. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm just giving you professional advice, as a doctor," she said, her tone much softer now.
Eugene looked at her, his gaze suddenly intense. "And what exactly do you think it's the wrong idea?"
"N-nothing," Lorraine stammered, wishing she could just bite her tongue off. She pushed the thermometer a little closer to him. "Just check your temperature. I-I'm going to the restroom."
She really couldn't stay in the same room with him any longer. She hurried off to the restroom next door, trying to calm her breathing and her heart, which was about to race out of control again.
Her phone buzzed. She quickly pulled it out. Sheila had texted: [Are you done yet? If he's not dying, hurry up and come down.]
Eugene sat alone in his office. He picked up the thermometer, rolling it between his big hands, a glint flashing in his eyes.
He stood up, the thermometer still in his palm, and walked over to knock on the restroom door. "Are you okay in there? I want to wash my face. It's really hot."
Lorraine was just texting Sheila back, saying she'd be down soon, when the knock startled her. She quickly shoved her phone back in her pocket. "Sorry, you go ahead," she said.
She tried to leave the restroom, but Eugene blocked the door. Asking a sick man to move was unthinkable, so she edged past him cautiously.
As her chest brushed his, a wild spark shot through Lorraine, leaving her breathless and numb. Her face flamed red, and she stumbled back, desperate for distance.
Eugene, meanwhile, acted like he hadn't noticed her embarrassment at all. He just gave the thermometer a practiced flick and, right in front of her, slipped it under his tongue, all business.
Lorraine finally let out a sigh of relief and hurriedly lowered her head to finish texting Sheila. [He's taking his temperature now. I'll be down in a minute.]
Eugene closed the door, took the thermometer out of his mouth, cranked the hot water on full blast, and tossed the thermometer straight into the sink, letting the water run over it.
Lorraine waited outside, heard nothing, and got worried. She knocked—no answer. 'What if he passed out in there? Fevers that high can cause seizures,' she thought.
She couldn't wait any longer and pushed the door open, rushing inside. "Eugene!"
Eugene stood by the sink, drenched, thermometer in front of him. "Fever's kicking in. Tried cooling off with water, but no dice," he said, wincing at his hurt arm.
Lorraine's heart twisted with worry. She quickly grabbed the thermometer and froze in shock. "107 degrees? That can't be right."
She knew that 107 degrees was basically fatal. Her hands shook as panic set in. She rushed over to support him. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital."
Eugene gently dodged her hand and rubbed his brow, looking utterly exhausted. "Actually, I've hated hospitals since I was a kid. The smell of disinfectant is just awful."
His voice was low and soft, every word tugging at Lorraine's heartstrings. She felt her resolve melting away, her heart turning to mush.
She reached up to touch her own face. "Why is it so hot here?" It was weird that there was so much steam.
"Hot?" Eugene coughed, barely holding himself up by the sink. "Maybe I gave it to you. You should bounce; don't stick around," he said, sounding all selfless, like he only cared about her.
Lorraine felt like she was drowning in guilt, anxiety gnawing at her. "You have a fever because of your injury, not a virus. It's not contagious."
"Really?" Eugene's eyes started to lose focus, looking at her with complete trust. "No wonder you're going to be a doctor. If you say so, I believe you."
Hearing the word "doctor" made Lorraine feel the weight of responsibility. If she left now, she'd never forgive herself. Taking a deep breath, she persuaded him. "So listen to me, okay? Let's go to the hospital first."
"Okay." He nodded.
Lorraine finally felt a weight lift off her chest. "Then I'll—"
"I'll go lie down for a bit and call Isaac to take me to the hospital. You should go ahead," Eugene said.
She thought for a moment, and then shook her head. "I'll wait until Isaac gets here. Go ahead and make the call."
"Alright." Eugene calmly pulled out his phone and dialed.
Lorraine stood right across from him, watching as he made the call.
The call connected. "Isaac, come to my office and drive me to the hospital," Eugene instructed coolly, and then hung up before she could catch a glimpse of the screen. He didn't call Isaac at all.
Lorraine blinked in surprise. "That was it?"
"Did you think I needed his permission?" Eugene replied.
She said nothing. Eugene was the boss after all.
Eugene took a step forward, but his footing seemed a bit unsteady. Lorraine hurried over and instinctively supported him. "Do you want to sit down and rest for a bit?" she asked.
"Over there is fine," he said weakly, pointing toward the long sofa in the office.
A pang of jealousy gripped Lorraine as she thought, 'He's refusing the hospital trip with me, likely waiting for Isaac to rendezvous with Elsie.' She masked her feelings, steadying him as she slowly guided him to the sofa.
Halfway there, she accidentally bumped her foot against the leg of the coffee table and stumbled forward. Eugene quickly reached out to catch her, his nose brushing past her hair and catching that familiar, sweet scent.
They were just about to regain their balance when, for some reason, Eugene's hand went slack, and the two of them tumbled onto the sofa—Lorraine underneath, Eugene on top.
"Guess I ran out of strength. I didn't crush you, did I?" he asked weakly, making no move to get up.
End of Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle Chapter 72. Continue reading Chapter 73 or return to Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle book page.