Chapter 261
Still, he wasn’t the kind to surrender so easily.
If he couldn’t work in his hospital bed, then he had to find another outlet for his energy—usually by pestering Brinley while she worked in the lounge.
Brinley had just organized urgent files Corbin had delivered and was preparing to call a business partner when the lounge door opened quietly.
Austin shuffled in, dressed in a loose hospital gown, his face pale, a weak expression carefully arranged, and one hand pressed dramatically to his stomach.
“Brinley,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with a touch of complaint, “my stomach hurts.”
Brinley glanced up with a slight frown. “Hurting again? Were you sneaking around when you shouldn’t have?”
“No,” Austin blurted, sinking down beside her. “It just started all of a sudden. I don’t even know why.”
He leaned toward her, eyes wide and innocent, like a puppy begging for comfort. “Can you… touch it?”
Brinley was momentarily speechless.
She took in his pale—but still ridiculously handsome—face and caught the flicker of mischief in his eyes. She realized immediately he was putting on a show.
These past few days, whenever he got bored, he would invent excuses to disturb her.
Sometimes it was a headache, sometimes dizziness, and now a stomachache. Either way, she could hardly focus on her work.
“Austin,” Brinley said, folding her arms with exasperation, “the doctor already confirmed you’re recovering well. Stop putting on an act.”
“I’m not acting,” Austin shot back quickly, furrowing his brow with exaggerated pain and sucking in a sharp breath. “It really hurts. Once you touch it, the pain eases.”
Before she could object, he caught her hand and pressed it gently against his abdomen.
The warmth of his skin made her instinctively want to pull away, but his grip tightened, not letting her go.
“Oh, the pain’s already better,” he murmured, lowering his head onto her shoulder, his tone playful. “Your hand must be magical.”
Brinley didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. “Austin, I’m dealing with something important. Stop distracting me.”
“What could possibly be more important than me?” he asked, leaning closer and nuzzling at her neck with shameless entitlement. “The doctor said I need to avoid emotional fluctuations. If you keep ignoring me, what if I get upset and my stomach gets worse?”
Brinley was left utterly speechless by his twisted reasoning. With no other choice, she set her work aside and gently massaged his stomach.
“Better?” she asked softly.
“Much better,” Austin said at once, a satisfied smile curving his lips. “As long as you’re here, everything feels better.”
.
.
.