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Quinn reached out to take the kit from him, but the tall man simply side-stepped her and strode right into her bedroom.
"Come here. Sit down."
Quinn stared at him, absolutely convinced he had some weird foot fetish!
"Just give me the ointment, I can do it myself. You can go back to your room."
Unmoved, he turned to face her. His eyes were as dark and profound as obsidian at the bottom of the ocean.
"Our prenuptial agreement states that we have to cooperate with each other."
"Soon, I'll be taking you home to meet my family. If we don't practice beforehand, everyone will immediately tell how distant we are."
Quinn blinked. She hadn't expected that excuse. Still, the thought of her foot resting in his large, warm palm again made her ears burn.
"It's fine. I'll just play along when the time comes," she mumbled, looking down.
(Combined with above)
"How can we act if we don't rehearse? Starting now, we need to get used to physical intimacy."
"That way, it'll look completely natural in front of others," Raymond stated with utter seriousness.
(Combined with above)
Though she felt incredibly awkward, their contract really did include a cooperation clause, leaving her no room to refuse.
Bracing herself, she sat down on the chair by the bed.
"Make it quick. I'm exhausted and want to go to sleep."
Seeing her look as though she were marching to her execution, a faint smirk flashed in his eyes before he swiftly reverted to his usual calm demeanor.
He opened the kit, squeezed out some ointment, and used a cotton swab to gently apply it over her blisters.
The warm, amber glow of the lamp cascaded down, washing over Raymond.
Only then did she notice he was wearing a black bathrobe. Having just showered, his dark hair was still damp, with a few stray strands clinging to his forehead. A bead of water slid down his sharp jawline, trailing along his firm neck.
Worse still, because he was crouching in front of her, the collar of his robe hung wide open, exposing a vast expanse of pale skin.



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