THE SPITEFUL BRIDE: Marry To Rival's Son novel Chapter 103

<Chapter Twenty-Seven Outnumbered

$25 Points

When Ezra stood up… his stomach was still flat. I wondered if he had those fabled eight-pack abs that women always raved about in those silly novels. I even wondered if there was a way I could sneak a hand under the hem of his shirt without being too obvious…

Clearly, even half a dose of pain medication was too much for me!

While I was still pondering his “pack”, he walked over and picked me up out of the chair as easily as if he was picking up a toddler. I uttered a surprised squeak as he swooped me up, but I didn’t

bother protesting as he marched back up the wide, curved staircase. He wasn’t even breathing

hard when we reached the second story landing.

Rather than taking me to the guest bedroom, he turned in the opposite direction, and used his foot

to push open the door to what I could only assume was the master bedroom. It was decorated in a

very masculine, monochromatic scheme of black and silver. A little bland for my taste, but it seemed to suit Mr. Falcon’s no fuss, no-nonsense personality. The massive bed that dominated the room was neatly made, and everything was neat and tidy. There was a snake plant in the corner, in a black ceremic pot, and a black dresser with silver handles and silver trim.

Without setting me down, he strode over to another door, and supported my weight with one hand

while he turned the knob with the other.

It was the kind of bathroom I had only ever seen in magazines. Everything was made of black marble, even the commode. The counter tops, the sinks, even the tiles on the walls and floor. There was an enormous shower that was separate from a bathtub that was big enough to swim in.

Ezra set me down beside the tub, closed the drain, and turned on the taps until steaming hot water started to fill the massive basin. I leaned against the side of the tub as he puttered around, setting out towels, a wash cloth, bottles of shampoo and body wash, even a jar of scented bath salts.

It was kind of sweet and endearing, the way he was fussing over me.

He finally scratched the back of his neck. “I think you are okay now? You can take it from here?”

I looked down at my ankle. I was still wearing the jeans I had worn on the hike yesterday. “Um, no,” I said, feeling my face getting red again. “I don’t think I can get my pants off over my ankle. Maybe you could call Mrs. Farley?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. His eyes seemed to darken, blacker than black behind those spectacles that made him look so smart and scholarly.. “Never mind about calling Mrs. Farley,” he squatted in front of me. “I can help you myself.”

< Chapter Twenty Eight Legs

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Legs

Ezra

+25 Pomys

“They are just legs, Kristen. Everyone has a pair,” I said, half jokingly, to relieve her tension. Or mine. But as she sat on the side of the bathtub and I examined the situation I shook my head. “There is no way those jeans are going to fit over that ankle.”

Her eyes widened. “The nurse was able to slide them off in the emergency room.”

I gently lifted the foot, and tried to work my finger under the cuff of her pants. “Madam, I hold an advanced degree in engineering. I’m very sure there is no way. Your ankle must be more swollen

now.”

“Oh,” she said, seeming to wilt a little. “Well, if you have to cut them, can you try to cut them along the seam? Maybe I can repair them later.”

I went to the cupboard to take down the sharp pair of scissors I kept in a grooming kit. I did as she asked, carefully sliding the blade between her swollen and discolored skin and the tight fabric, but

her plea was bothering me.

They were just a pair of jeans. I was not a fashion expert, but they didn’t even look like they were a designer label. What was the big deal about cutting up an ordinary pair of blue jeans? Were her finances really so tight that she couldn’t just buy another pair to replace them?

Mrs. Farley, I mind linked the housekeeper, Kristen needs some clothes. Something loose and comfortable, plus new underwear. And see if you can replace these jeans that I just cut with an

exact matching pair.”

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