Chapter 555
Chapter 555:
The moment she sank into the plush leather seat, something in her unwound. The car was warm, and the speakers carried soft, mellow jazz into the quiet interior. It was a world away from the tense, clinical atmosphere of Grayson’s car, always tuned to the cold, hard currency of a financial news station.
Before she could properly buckle her seatbelt, Julian leaned toward the center console — not into her space — and pressed a bottle of water into her hand. It was warm to the touch.
“You should take your medication with water,” he said gently. “I saw you dry-swallow those pills in the lobby. It’s hard on your stomach p>
Isolde looked at him, startled. “You saw that p>
A small, wry smile touched his lips. “Professional hazard. I observe my patients p>
He put the car in drive and pulled smoothly into the street. He didn’t ask about the man in the expensive suit. He didn’t ask why she had been standing alone outside a hospital at this hour, or about the controlled grief she had been carrying all evening. He didn’t ask about the presentation she had mentioned.
𝗙𝗂ո𝘥 𝗻о𝗏𝖾l рD𝖥𝘴 on 𝗀𝗮ln𝗼𝘃е𝗹ѕ.𝖼𝘰𝘮
That quiet respect for her boundaries — that perfect, unspoken sense of distance — allowed the tight knot in her chest to finally begin to loosen.
He drove with a steady, unhurried hand.
“The cut on your cheek,” he said after a few moments of comfortable silence. “I can prescribe a stronger ointment to reduce the swelling and scarring, if you’d like p>
Isolde touched her cheek instinctively, feeling the slight pull of the bandage.
“No, thank you,” she said, her voice carrying a new firmness. “I think I’ll keep the scar. It will be useful tomorrow p>
Julian’s brow arched slightly above his glasses. “Tomorrow? The Aerospace Summit p>
Her head turned sharply toward him. “How did you know p>
“I’m something of an aerospace enthusiast,” he admitted, his eyes still on the road. “And the rumor mill in those circles has been buzzing for weeks that the mysterious Sophia might finally make an appearance p>
Isolde’s heart skipped. He knows. Or at the very least, he suspected.
But Julian didn’t press. He didn’t ask for confirmation. He simply said, “Whatever you’re planning — remember your health comes first.” A beat. “And we’re here p>
The Land Rover came to a smooth stop in front of her apartment building.
Before she could thank him and step out, he reached into the glove compartment and produced a small, unmarked white tube. He pressed it into her palm.
“This is a special compound,” he said. “It won’t conceal the injury — it isn’t makeup — but it’s a powerful analgesic. It will numb the pain.” He paused. “Since you plan on showing the scar, you should at least not have to feel it throbbing p>
Isolde looked down at the small tube in her hand, then back up at him. A warmth moved through her chest — quiet and unexpected, so foreign and so welcome that it came close to bringing tears to her eyes.
“Thank you, Dr. Thorne p>
“Julian,” he corrected her softly. “Good night, Isolde p>
“Julian,” she repeated. “Good night p>
She stepped out of the car and watched the Land Rover’s taillights grow smaller and then disappear into the vast, indifferent city.