She pounded on her sore, weak legs, her face clouded with frustration.
Her legs usually only gave out when she was extrely panicked or nervous. This was a first. She didn’t know if it was because last night had been too wild or if she was simply exhausted, but right now, she couldn’t put any strength into her legs at all.
She took out her phone, thinking of calling soone for help, but then rembered it was during work hours. Feeling too embarrassed to bother anyone, she decided against it.
’If I just sit here for a little while, I should be able to stand up...’
Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. Claire Sinclair sat on the stairs for half an hour, but her legs still hadn’t recovered.
Seeing it was almost 12 o’clock, she rembered she needed to ask for the day off. She quickly sent Teacher Hartwell a WeChat ssage: "Teacher Hartwell, I’m not feeling well, so I can’t make it to the office today. Can I take a day off?"
Reporter Henry Hartwell: You need a doctor’s note for sick leave.
QingGuoEr: Then just count as skipping work.
Reporter Henry Hartwell: You could ask Young Master Quincy to vouch for you. As long as we get a call from him, we can just say you’re on an outside assignnt.
’I have to bother him to make a call for again?’
Claire Sinclair wasn’t keen on that idea, so she replied: "In that case, just mark as skipping work. I’ll give up my perfect attendance bonus for the month."
Reporter Henry Hartwell: Haha, I was just kidding. If you can’t make it, don’t worry about it. Just rest up at ho.
QingGuoEr: ...
’That’s not a funny joke at all!’
She put her phone away, glanced at the long, winding staircase, and took a deep breath. She decided to try making her way down by holding onto the handrail.
’Co on, Claire, you can do this!’
Claire Sinclair used the wall to pull herself up. It took every ounce of her strength, but she finally made it to the first floor.
But before she could feel a mont of joy, she plopped right back down onto the last step.
She couldn’t help it; she had already given it her all.
Just then, a figure appeared at the other end of the hallway, moving like a bolt of lightning. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of her, scooping her into his arms.
"Claire, are you all right?"
He was breathing heavily and his heart was racing—a clear sign of extre anxiety.
Claire stared blankly at his handso face, so close to her own, and mumbled, "I didn’t fall. I... I walked down on my own. I’m not hurt."
"I thought you’d had an accident." Adrian breathed a small sigh of relief, but then sothing else occurred to him, and his gaze fell to her legs.
"What’s wrong with your legs?"
"Probably from kneeling for too long last night. I haven’t been able to get any strength in them all morning."
Hearing this, Adrian was filled with guilt. "I’m sorry," he said in a low voice. "We won’t do that position again. Let take you to put so ointnt on."
Claire’s face flushed. Snippets of the previous night flashed uncontrollably through her mind, and feeling too ashad to look at him, she buried her face in his chest.
’Ugh, so embarrassing...’
Adrian carried her into his office and had soone bring in a first-aid kit.
When she rolled up her pant leg, revealing kneecaps mottled with deep, purple bruises, Adrian’s heart clenched painfully, and it felt as if it had skipped a beat.
He knew she was as fragile as a porcelain doll, but he’d never imagined that what they’d done last night would leave her knees this bruised...
"Does it hurt?" Adrian asked, carefully dabbing the ointnt onto her skin.
The ointnt felt cool, and Claire found it a bit itchy. "It’s not very painful, just itchy."
"You’ll have to bear with the itch. The ointnt will help the bruises heal faster."
"Uh..."
Claire stared at her own knees, lost in thought.
"Mr. Quincy, how long will it take for my knees to get better with this ointnt?"
"That depends on how you heal."
"So I’ll have to wear long pants for a few days?"
’With my knees bruised this badly, I can’t let anyone see them. People would laugh at .’
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