My Child and I Married a Billionaire novel Chapter 292

Chapter 292: Chapter 292: Taking the Opportunity to Act Spoiled

The manager left, thanking him profusely.

Cecelia Archer hooked up his IV bag, draped a blanket over him, and was desperate to get back.

"The kids’ clothes are wet, and I came down to get them some dry ones. I’ve been gone for so long, they must be getting anxious. I’ll have a doctor come and keep an eye on you. If you’re not feeling well, just try to get some sleep. I’ll come see you again tomorrow morning."

Damien Vaughn thought he’d misheard and opened his eyes, displeased.

"Come see me again tomorrow morning? Why don’t you just wait until I’m dead to come back?"

Cecelia Archer: "..."

He irritably lifted his leg and kicked off the blanket.

"I don’t like being with strangers, and I especially don’t like being alone with a strange man. Have you known me for only a day? Why did I get injured? And after getting hurt, this is how you treat me? Cecelia Archer, where’s your conscience?"

’Cecelia Archer knew that if it weren’t for him, she would have been in serious trouble tonight.’

’But I’ve already explained to him that the children are still waiting for me...’

Damien Vaughn was suddenly acting like a petulant child.

"I don’t care. I am not staying in the same room as a strange man. I got this injury for you, so you have to take responsibility for me. Figure it out. And I haven’t even eaten."

He hadn’t had any appetite at all for the past few days, with no desire to eat anything.

But who knew that after a few stitches, he’d suddenly feel famished.

’Cecelia Archer was out of options. She couldn’t just leave him here all alone, could she?’

She adjusted the IV drip to its slowest rate.

"How about this? I’ll go back and show my face, put the kids to sleep, and then I’ll come back to check on you. I’ll bring you something to eat, too, okay? I have to go back, no matter what. Otherwise, Shane Grant will come looking for me."

’Shane Grant! Shane Grant! Always Shane Grant! Why doesn’t he just worry himself to death?’

Frustrated, Damien Vaughn kicked the blanket even farther away.

Seeing that he was impossible to persuade, Cecelia Archer sighed. She picked up the blanket, covered him with it again, and soothed him gently.

"Be good. Don’t play games with your health. You’re very weak right now, and it would be bad if you developed a fever. I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I possibly can. What do you want to eat?"

She rarely spoke to him in such a gentle, caring tone, and Damien Vaughn loved hearing it.

But he still turned his face away. "As if you could get me whatever I wanted."

Cecelia Archer said, "And why not? Didn’t the manager just say he owes you a favor? Forget a simple meal—he’d probably give you his company shares if you asked. Go on, just say what you want. I’ll have him get it ready for you in advance."

As long as Cecelia Archer was talking to him and running errands for him, Damien Vaughn was happy.

After he named a few dishes, Damien finally let Cecelia Archer go.

When she returned to the room, she was surprised to find that Shane Grant had already put the children to sleep.

"They ran wild all day. Once they ate their fill, had a bath, and relaxed, they got sleepy. It’s good, though. They’re in bed early, so you can get some rest, too. What took you so long just to grab some clothes?"

Cecelia Archer didn’t dare tell him the truth.

’Shane Grant was still very weak, and his company wasn’t doing well. Since even Damien Vaughn didn’t plan on pursuing the matter with that gang, telling Shane would only make him worry for nothing.’

"The sunset was gorgeous today. I haven’t seen a view that lovely in a long time, and I lost track of time. Since the children are asleep, you should get some rest, too. You’ve been exhausted these past few days."

Shane Grant looked at her, feeling that something was strange, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

"All right. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night."

About forty minutes later, Cecelia Archer returned to Damien Vaughn’s room carrying containers of food.

This was the first time she had ever seen him so relaxed. He was sunk into the sofa, his big, bare feet dangling in the air.

One arm, with the IV line taped to it, rested on the blanket. With his other hand, he held the remote, idly searching for a TV show.

He didn’t look like someone who had just gotten stitches and was on an IV drip; he looked as if he were on vacation.

’Cecelia Archer had to admit, he was truly impressive.’

’There was no anesthetic here; he had just endured being cut open and then sewn up with over a dozen stitches, yet he was still this calm. Was he the reincarnation of Lord Luck, who could have his bone scraped to the quick without flinching?’

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