Chapter 261 A Direct Refusal
He didn't know what was wrong with himself, becoming so docile. After the divorce, wasn't he supposed to be carefree?
It seemed he still had a lot to learn.
Alexander yawned.
He hadn't slept well last night.
Ava Anderson noticed that he seemed tired.
"You should rest," she suggested.
"I'd like to take a shower," Alexander Mitchell said.
"I'll find a valet to help you then. Your wounds can't get wet."
"You want another man to see me naked?" Alexander Mitchell protested with dissatisfaction.
It was as if she were offering him to another man.
"What's the problem? It's only appropriate that a man helps. I certainly can't ask a woman to do it."
Alexander Mitchell was silent, just staring at her.
She finally caught on. "You don't... want me to help you shower, do you?"
"Why not? It’s not like you’ve never helped me before."
"But we're divorced now."
"So what? We've seen everything there is to see of each other."
Ava Anderson exhaled with resignation, "Don't forget, Isabella Harrington is still in the hospital."
"Don't mention her," Alexander Mitchell’s expression suddenly turned icy, "Can we not talk about her tonight?"
He wanted to spend the evening with Ava Anderson.
"Alright, I'll go run your bath. Just wait for me," Ava said as she stood up and headed for the bathroom.
Seeing Alexander Mitchell in pain, her heart ached, and she couldn't help but agree to his request.
She couldn't let go of him, not now anyhow.
The news of his injury had her panicked, seeing his wounds had her heartbroken, so she decided to stay and take care of him.
She didn't know what to do—how much longer was she supposed to love this man?
Love was hard to let go of.
It was torturous.
Even knowing that getting close would hurt, she couldn't help but dive in.
Alexander Mitchell breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed back on the bed.
But as soon as he lay down, his eyes shot open and he sat up quickly. Damn... it hurt...
A little while later, his cell phone rang. The caller ID read: Isabella Harrington.
He glanced towards the bathroom and answered the phone, "Hello."
"Alex, I'm not feeling well. Where are you?" Isabella’s voice had a whine to it.
"I'm at home," he said instinctively. He'd always considered this his home, his true home, without a moment's doubt, though he had never voiced it before.
"Can you come and keep me company? I’m really scared," Isabella Harrington’s voice carried a hint of tears.
Although Alexander Mitchell's voice was gentle, he did not relent. "It's already late. You should rest. I won't be coming over tonight."
"But you didn't come to see me last night," Isabella Harrington asked with a pitiable look. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing happened. I've just been very busy these past few days with a lot of work piling up that I need to get through. You rest first, and I'll come see you once I'm done."
He was injured at the moment, which made it inconvenient for him to go out.
"If you have things to do, you can come over here. I promise I won't disturb you."
Alexander's expression cooled. "I can't work at the hospital. Anyway, I'm not coming. You just get some good rest."
Isabella felt a tremor in her heart upon hearing Alexander's resolute refusal. Was he rejecting her because he was tired of her? Or was it because he saw she was close to death, so he was just humoring her?
Clutching the bedsheets tightly, Isabella was about to speak when suddenly, she heard a woman's voice on the other end of the phone, "Alex, the bathwater is ready. Come on over."
The voice struck Isabella like lightning, nearly bursting her eardrums.
