Chapter 298 Touched?
Ashley had no clue that while she was just to write her confession, Harold had already pulled a fast one on her.
The desk phone rang, and Ashley had a title. She'd never written a confession before and had no idea where to start.
She'd rather be at the morgue watching an autopsy than writing an article. Just thinking about writing two thousand words gave her a headache.
Seeing the number on the desk phone, Ashley stopped her search, "Hello?"
Harold's voice was cold, but he didn't have his usual bossy tone, "What are you up to?"
Ashley stared at her blank confession and said, "Just following your orders, Mr. Brin, and reflecting seriously."
Harold sneered, and even over the phone, she could feel how much she wanted to punch him, "Stop writing. I have a new task for you. It's important, and you need to nail it. If you do, you won't have to write the confession."
Ashley felt a bit excited but kept her voice steady, "Isn't that unfair? Lynn and I were both punished. If I don't write it, what will she think? We work together; secrets are impossible to keep. I don't want to be the talk of the house."
"Come on! Alright, I promise no one will know about this, not even me. Don't you trust me?" Harold said.
Ashley felt a weight lift off her shoulders and leaned back in her chair, "What are your instructions, Mr. Brin? Lay it on me."
Harold regretted calling her; he should have told her face-to-face and knocked some sense into her when she got too smug. "I have a case, a financial dispute. The other party specifically requested Hendrix, but he's half incapacitated and can't take it. You will assist him."
The weight returned to Ashley's heart, and she said dejectedly, "You know our history! Can't you assign us to different projects?"
"Who do you think you are, being so picky? Take the opportunity to learn, and don't think about unnecessary things. Besides, Hendrix might only have a fleeting interest in you. Don't overestimate yourself. Do you really think Hendrix hasn't seen the world and only likes you?" Harold said.
Ashley stayed silent. She hadn't said anything, so why was she getting chewed out like this?
Did Harold not know what kind of person Hendrix was? How could he be so off the mark?
With the task in hand, Ashley took the materials to Hendrix's house.
Following Harold's address, she arrived at a villa community after about thirty minutes.
The general vibe of the villa community looked somewhat familiar at first glance and even more so upon closer inspection.
Ashley vaguely remembered that Damian also had a villa nearby, nestled against the mountains and water, particularly serene, but he rarely stayed there.
She had visited once with Faye years ago, but it was at night, and she couldn't clearly remember the route or the exact location.
"Miss Astor? Mr. Long is waiting for you upstairs. Please come in." A middle-aged woman in a clean blue and white outfit greeted Ashley. She looked like a servant, with a kind face and a somewhat flattering expression.
Ashley was a bit suspicious. Had Hendrix said something weird to the household staff? "Okay, thank you."
The servant guided Ashley to the indoor elevator.
The Long family's villa was decked out in a vintage style, with cherry wood tones, Louis chandeliers, and a winding wooden staircase. It felt like stepping into a century-old Nordic hall under a tall dome, with space and texture coexisting beautifully.
The paintings on the walls were clearly the real deal, probably worth eight figures.
Ashley figured Lynn probably hadn't been to Hendrix's place; otherwise, she couldn't bear to break up with him.
Lost in thought, the elevator stopped on the third floor.
The servant led her to a closed double door and nodded, "Miss Astor, Mr. Long is inside. If you need anything, just ring the bell."
Ashley nodded.
The door looked heavy but opened effortlessly, revealing a whole new world.
Hendrix lay on an elegant carved bed, with layers of luxurious curtains draped over the floor-to-ceiling windows, showing the shadows of sycamore trees outside. The room was packed with so many decorations it was impossible to take them all in at once.
In stark contrast to Damian's minimalist style, Hendrix's home was the epitome of maximalism. It had every kind of item imaginable, like an antique shop.
Ashley couldn't help but smirk, "Mr. Long, isn't this a bit much?"
Having anticipated Ashley's arrival, Hendrix felt excited but kept a calm face, even looking a bit uninterested, "Keeping money around in a way you like, that's living. You can't play those too lofty things; being a bit tacky makes it easier to be happy."
He was recuperating at home and had even gained some insights.
Ashley placed the folder on his particularly ornate bedside table. She accidentally touched the crystal decoration on the lamp, causing it to sway.
"Is your leg any better?" Ashley asked.
A week had passed, and Hendrix no longer needed to hang his leg but had to lie down or sit, unable to stand or walk for long. However, his mood remained buoyant, as if slightly tipsy, "No, it still hurts at night. My muscles have atrophied from lying down. Look at my arm; the muscle mass has shrunk."
Ashley rubbed her forehead, "Mr. Long, that's not the point. Muscles can be retrained. The main thing is for the bones to heal well to avoid irreversible damage."
Hendrix pulled a face, "It takes a hundred days to heal a bone injury properly."
Ashley gave him a sympathetic look, "Do you want some water?"
As she turned, Hendrix smiled but quickly composed himself, "Yes, and I'd like some fruit too."
Ashley poured some water from the tea bar, marveling at how his bedroom was big, with everything except a gas stove, "What kind of fruit?"
"Oranges," Hendrix said.
Ashley put down the water cup, picked up a large, round orange, and sat on the single sofa by the bed to peel it, placing the segments on a plate, "Alright."
Hendrix scratched his nose, "I don't like the white pith on it."
Ashley looked at his chiseled face, wanting to grab his pajama collar and shake him.
With nimble fingers, Ashley carefully removed the white pith from the juicy orange segments, making them look like glistening crystals, "Done."
Hendrix didn't hesitate, leaning over to take a segment with his mouth, satisfied, "Hmm, delicious."
Ashley looked at the spot on her fingers where his lips had touched and finally couldn't hold back, "Hendrix, did you deliberately tell Harold to have me help you?"
Hendrix's mouth and heart were both sweet, and he smiled, "When there's something good, you're the first person I think of. Touched?"
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