Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 83: Chapter 83
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 83: Chapter 83. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Before the morning was half over, the skin on her palms had already split and bled.
Glancing at her torn fingertips, she heard a worker saunter over and purr, "Hey, gorgeous, those pretty hands are all cut up—don't wear yourself out." As he spoke, he brazenly stroked her hand.
Elena jerked her hand back. "What do you think you're doing?"
The man grinned, peeled off his glove, and brushed her cheek. "What else? Just showing a pretty lady a little tender care."
Instinctively she stepped away. The site was cluttered with scattered beams and bricks, and she tripped, landing hard on the dusty ground.
Nearby laborers burst into raucous laughter.
A foreman finally walked over, pulled her up by the arm, and asked kindly, "You okay, miss?"
She withdrew her arm out of habit. "Thank you."
Looking far more proper than the others, the foreman turned and barked, "Quit gawking and get back to work!"
Then he offered Elena a friendly smile. "In this cold, dry weather your hands will split wide open without gloves. Come on, I'll get you a pair and some salve."
One look at her bleeding palms told her he was right; if she didn't treat them, they might be ruined by sundown.
Because the crew lived in on-site dorms, the man led her toward the building, chatting as they walked as though to ease her concerns.
Elena followed but stayed alert; when they reached the dormitory door she stopped and refused to enter.
Seeing her hesitate, he chuckled. "Come in, it's fine."
"Thanks, but I'd rather wait here. Could you just grab them for me?"
His smile stiffened. He turned, picked up a tube of ointment from a bedside table, and came back.
The instant she reached for it, he yanked her into the room with a savage pull.
He slammed the door shut.
Elena's heart lurched. She wrenched her arm free and snapped, "What are you doing? Let me out!"
Dropping all pretense, he leered, "What's the rush? I'm just going to put ointment on you. Bet that soft skin feels real nice."
Her lips thinned; her gaze turned razor-sharp. "I'm warning you—don't even think about it."
The man froze, startled by her tone.
"You might want a cheap thrill," she said, "but you should first ask yourself whether you can afford the consequences."
He snorted. "Manager already told us—you're only the Bennett family's fake heiress. If you were really somebody, would they stick you on a building site?"
"Fake or not, I spent twenty years in that household. Think about the people I know before you decide you're ready to cross me."
A few sharp words were enough to unsettle him.
His cheek twitched; unwilling yet intimidated, he snatched back the ointment and growled, "Get out!"
Elena flung the door open and bolted.
Right outside she ran straight into Manager Henry. He looked her over and smiled thinly. "Miss Bennett, neglecting your duties already? You're putting me in a difficult spot."
She pressed her lips together. "I only went to find gloves. I'm going back now."
Glancing at her torn fingertips, she heard a worker saunter over and purr, "Hey, gorgeous, those pretty hands are all cut up—don't wear yourself out." As he spoke, he brazenly stroked her hand.
Elena jerked her hand back. "What do you think you're doing?"
The man grinned, peeled off his glove, and brushed her cheek. "What else? Just showing a pretty lady a little tender care."
Instinctively she stepped away. The site was cluttered with scattered beams and bricks, and she tripped, landing hard on the dusty ground.
Nearby laborers burst into raucous laughter.
A foreman finally walked over, pulled her up by the arm, and asked kindly, "You okay, miss?"
She withdrew her arm out of habit. "Thank you."
Looking far more proper than the others, the foreman turned and barked, "Quit gawking and get back to work!"
Then he offered Elena a friendly smile. "In this cold, dry weather your hands will split wide open without gloves. Come on, I'll get you a pair and some salve."
One look at her bleeding palms told her he was right; if she didn't treat them, they might be ruined by sundown.
Because the crew lived in on-site dorms, the man led her toward the building, chatting as they walked as though to ease her concerns.
Elena followed but stayed alert; when they reached the dormitory door she stopped and refused to enter.
Seeing her hesitate, he chuckled. "Come in, it's fine."
"Thanks, but I'd rather wait here. Could you just grab them for me?"
His smile stiffened. He turned, picked up a tube of ointment from a bedside table, and came back.
The instant she reached for it, he yanked her into the room with a savage pull.
He slammed the door shut.
Elena's heart lurched. She wrenched her arm free and snapped, "What are you doing? Let me out!"
Dropping all pretense, he leered, "What's the rush? I'm just going to put ointment on you. Bet that soft skin feels real nice."
Her lips thinned; her gaze turned razor-sharp. "I'm warning you—don't even think about it."
The man froze, startled by her tone.
"You might want a cheap thrill," she said, "but you should first ask yourself whether you can afford the consequences."
He snorted. "Manager already told us—you're only the Bennett family's fake heiress. If you were really somebody, would they stick you on a building site?"
"Fake or not, I spent twenty years in that household. Think about the people I know before you decide you're ready to cross me."
A few sharp words were enough to unsettle him.
His cheek twitched; unwilling yet intimidated, he snatched back the ointment and growled, "Get out!"
Elena flung the door open and bolted.
Right outside she ran straight into Manager Henry. He looked her over and smiled thinly. "Miss Bennett, neglecting your duties already? You're putting me in a difficult spot."
She pressed her lips together. "I only went to find gloves. I'm going back now."
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 83. Continue reading Chapter 84 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.