The Moment I Stepped Into His World as the Fake Girlfriend, I Became the Real Prize novel Chapter 97

At those words, the young man froze, his face cycling through disbelief and a chaotic storm of intense emotions.

It wasn't until a second later, seeing the girl practically vibrating with suppressed laughter, that he realized the truth.

This wicked woman was messing with him again!

He never should have opened his mouth to warn her!

Elena watched him turn on his heel and stomp off, even his back radiating pure annoyance.

She let out a soft laugh, genuinely curious how a ruthless dynasty like the Hawthorne family had managed to raise such an innocent prince.

It was painfully obvious he had been impeccably sheltered; his romantic history was a blank slate, fiercely focused and undeniably devoted.

A moment later, Sterling marched back in, a tube of ointment in hand.

He walked up to her and shoved it into her hand. "Put it on yourself."

Initially, Elena was stunned, completely baffled.

"Doesn't your face hurt?"

He pointed at her right cheek, offering a blunt reminder.

Elena had legitimately forgotten about it; she hadn't expected the young man to be so observant.

Unscrewing the cap, she handed the tube back to him. "Do me a favor and apply it for me, Sterling."

Sterling didn't take it immediately. "Are your arms broken?"

"It's awkward for me to see it properly. Just be a good guy all the way to the end, pretty please?"

Her voice hooked into him, tugging effortlessly at his heartstrings.

"Talk normally!"

Scolding her, Sterling grabbed the ointment, only to watch the girl casually stroll over and sit right on the edge of his bed.

"You—"

He pressed his lips together. Deep down, her background as a lounge girl still bothered him; he couldn't shake the ingrained belief that she wasn't entirely clean.

Plus, no woman had ever sat on his bed before, and he didn't want Elena to be the first!

On second thought, they had already touched each other countless times; it was far too late to start getting squeamish now.

"What's wrong?"

Elena tilted her delicate face up, looking utterly innocent and well-behaved.

With a tight jaw, Sterling gave in, squeezing out a dab of ointment and leaning down to apply it to her cheek.

*Ah—*

The ointment was icy cold, and as the young man's finger rubbed it in, Elena drew in a sharp breath.

"Does it hurt?"

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