Unemployed Family? Hidden Tycoons Dote On Her novel Chapter 585

Arabella pushed the door open and stepped inside. The sight that greeted her brought her to an abrupt halt.

Matthew hadn't expected her either. Instinctively, he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone caught between surprise and mild annoyance.

For a moment, Arabella just stood there, stunned.

What had she just walked in on? A shirtless, undeniably good-looking guy—lean but clearly toned, the kind who looked slim in clothes but was all defined muscle underneath. His physique was, well, impressive.

"Dr. Hamilton?" Matthew's voice broke through her daze, his brow slightly furrowed.

Arabella snapped back to reality, suddenly feeling intensely awkward. She dropped her gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

"Oh, I-I just came to check on you," she said, her words coming out a little rushed.

A faint, teasing smile touched Matthew's lips. "You're injured yourself, and you're checking on me? Were you worried?"

"People said you weren't hurt, but it didn't seem right to me," Arabella admitted honestly. From what she'd seen earlier, there was no way he could have come out of that fall completely unscathed.

Matthew was taken aback by her directness. He hadn't expected her to acknowledge it so plainly. Yet, her clinical tone left him strangely unsatisfied—it felt too professional, like a doctor assessing a patient, nothing more.

"I saw you earlier," Arabella went on, her composure returning. "It looked like you were treating some wounds."

She moved closer, studying him with a slight frown. "Why didn't you let the medical staff handle it? And why tell everyone you were fine?"

Matthew let out a low, almost irritated sigh. "I got hurt because of you. Is that all you have to say?"

Arabella paused, quickly putting the pieces together. So that was why he'd kept quiet—he'd been thinking about how she might feel.

After a brief hesitation, she sighed softly. "Let me take care of it for you."

"You're hurt too. You should go rest," Matthew replied, trying to wave her off.

But Arabella didn't budge. "My right hand is fine. I can manage your injuries without a problem."

Without waiting for a response, she picked up a cotton swab and began cleaning the scrapes on his arm.

"These aren't deep, but you still need to be careful for the next few days..." she said, listing off precautions as she worked efficiently.

When she was done with his arm, she nodded toward his shirt. "Take that off."

Matthew hesitated briefly before pulling his shirt off again.

Arabella had been focused until then, but the sight of his bare back—the defined lines of muscle—sent her thoughts drifting for a second.

"Is it bad?" Matthew asked when he felt her pause.

"No, it's nothing serious," she said, shaking herself back into focus. She felt a flicker of self-annoyance.

Get it together. You're a doctor. Act like one.

Gritting her teeth slightly, she continued, "The scrapes are superficial, but you've got a bruise here from the impact. Let me apply some arnica gel—you can't reach it yourself."

"Alright," Matthew agreed quietly.

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