Chapter 624 Quentin's Concern 1
Grace was still in a deep sleep.
Her eyes were closed, and her long eyelashes curled slightly.
Her delicate little face was pale, devoid of any color.
Quentin had been by her side the whole time.
During that period, Willie called several times to inquire about Quentin's afternoon schedule.
"Postpone all meetings, and clear my schedule for today and tomorrow. I'll handle any urgent work on the computer. Bring the computer over now," Quentin instructed decisively.
"Yes, Mr. Taft."
She slept through the afternoon, and it wasn't until six in the evening that Grace slowly opened her eyes.
All she saw was white.
The strong smell of disinfectant surrounded her.
She tried to speak but found her throat dry and painfully sore.
Turning her head, she saw Quentin sitting in a chair.
Quentin was focused on his computer, his long fingers typing quickly, completely unaware that she had woken up.
She had been running a fever almost all day, and her throat was very dry.
Grace couldn't help it; she wanted to reach for the cup on the bedside table.
After some effort, she finally touched the edge of the cup.
Just as she picked it up, a burning sensation spread through her palm.
She was so thirsty that she hadn't realized the water was hot, ignoring the steam rising from it.
Almost instantly, the cup fell to the ground.
The shards scattered everywhere, covering the floor.
The hot water spilled from her hand onto the floor, leaving a mess.
Hearing the noise, Quentin put down his computer and rushed over.
Seeing the broken cup and her red, swollen hand, he immediately grabbed it, "Is it too hot? Does it hurt?"
"I'm okay."
Grace tried to pull her hand back, but Quentin held it tightly.
Suddenly, with a bit of pressure, a sharp pain shot through the back of her hand.
The burned area felt like it was being seared by fire, hurting intensely.
She couldn't help but gasp.
"Quentin, did you do that on purpose?"
Her hand hurt so much that she looked up, her watery eyes glaring at him angrily.
Her eyes were captivating and full of grievance.
For a moment, he felt as if he were back in their time together.
Back then, she wasn't like this; she was bold and lively.
If he made her angry or hurt her.
She wouldn't react like this.
She would either straddle him, more domineering and get her revenge.
Or she would look at him with tear-filled, watery eyes, like a kitten, pleading.
But no matter which way, he always ended up apologizing.
Sadly, those wonderful times were now behind them.
"Didn't you say it didn't hurt?" Quentin replied.
Maybe it was due to her illness, but she felt particularly fragile.
At that moment, Grace experienced a profound sense of injustice; her large eyes brimmed with tears, rendering her appearance truly pitiable.
"I didn't say it didn't hurt, just that I could bear it."
"But who told you to press on it?"
After saying that, her face showed even more of a teased expression.
The more she acted like this, the more Quentin wanted to tease her.
Not like this, but by pinning her down and making love with her fiercely, passionately.
She would never know how enchanting she looked at that moment.
So much so that his usually proud self-control had entirely vanished.
"If I didn't press, how would you tell the truth?"
Grace fell silent, her doubts about his sanity growing more pronounced.
"Now tell me, does your hand hurt?"
The string that had been tightly wound in Grace's heart suddenly snapped.
She couldn't hold back anymore, and tears started streaming down her face like a flood.
She felt utterly wronged.
"Quentin, you are crazy!"
"Who told you to leave such hot water on the table?"
"How about I burn you and see if it hurts?"
After shouting, she felt much better.
The pent-up emotions of the past few days finally found an outlet, and she felt a sense of relief.
"Alright, it's my fault. I shouldn't have left hot water on the table."
"I shouldn't have let you get the hot water yourself."
Surprisingly, Quentin wiped her tears while apologizing.
At that moment, not only Grace but also Willie, who was standing outside the door, was stunned.
Having been by Quentin's side for so long, Willie had never seen him apologize so humbly to a woman.
Other women in front of him were always as obedient as kittens, trying to please him.
But Grace was an exception.
In the past, when Quentin was in a good mood, he would often set aside his principles to coax Grace.
But that was when Quentin and Grace were in the throes of a passionate romance, seeking novelty and excitement.
Yet, after all these years, Quentin was as gentle with Grace as ever.
After helping Grace sit up in bed, Quentin carefully applied an ice pack to her hand.
About half an hour later, seeing that the swelling had gone down, Quentin opened a tube of ointment and gently applied it to her hand.
"How does it feel now? Any better?" he asked.
Grace awkwardly pulled her hand back.
The next moment, a cup of warm water was placed in front of her, "The temperature is just right now, not too hot or cold, perfect for drinking."
At that point, Willie knocked on the door, "Mr. Taft."
"What is it?"
Seeing Willie, Quentin's displeasure was unmistakable.
Quentin's expression was sharp, his voice cold.
Quentin's message was clear: Didn't I say not to bother me? What are you doing here?
"Mr. Taft, it's urgent. Mr. Ward's secretary contacted me, saying they returned early and would land in an hour."
"I understand."
Quentin's voice remained cold.
He reached out, slowly and deliberately, and handed Grace some pills.
"I don't want to take them; they're bitter."
Grace hated taking medicine the most.
She had never been able to swallow pills since she was a child; they always got stuck halfway down.
Once the sugar coating dissolved, the bitterness would spread in her throat.
As a child, she was often sick, and the most effective medicines were always the bitter ones.
She was forced to take a lot of medicine.
Thus, she had a strong aversion to taking medicine.
As she grew older, she became even more unwilling to take medicine, preferring an injection over swallowing pills.
Seeing her shake her head, Quentin patiently coaxed, "Good medicine tastes bitter, but it will help you get better faster."
Grace still refused.
Quentin decisively said, "You can either take it yourself or let me feed it to you. Choose one."
"I choose the injection," Grace replied.
However, as soon as she finished speaking, Quentin took a sip of water and put the pill in his mouth.
He grabbed her chin with one hand and pressed his lips to hers.
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