His tone was noticeably more rxed now.


    Elodie paused for a moment, then lifted her gaze to meet his-her eyesnding squarely in his.


    There was something different about Jarrod tonight. She couldn''t put her finger on


    it.


    Instead of answering, she silently finished wrapping his hand, carefully bandaging the bruised knuckles.


    That''s when she noticed a thin scratch trailing along his neck.


    With his pale skin, the fresh cut stood out, tiny beads of blood still welling up.


    He must have gotten it when the bottle shattered—ss flying everywhere.


    She grabbed another alcohol wipe. "Tilt your head a bit."


    Jarrod obliged withoutint.


    Leaning in, Elodie gently dabbed at the wound. He must have felt the sting; his Adam''s apple bobbed, and she eased up, her touch even softer.


    Still, a crease formed between his brows. Suddenly, he caught her wrist and tugged her down to sit beside him.


    "I''ll do it myself."


    "You can see well enough? Am I hurting you?"


    "No. It''s your breathing-it''s distracting." He sat back, legs syed, and haphazardly dabbed antiseptic on the scratch.


    Elodie blinked. "Excuse me?"


    “I''m not an amoeba, I''m a living person-how is my breathing getting in your way?"


    He nced up,shes low, giving her a cool once-over. "I''m sensitive."


    She let out a quiet, exasperated breath, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. There was no point in arguing. Instead, she gathered up the first-aid supplies, sorting everything back into its proper ce. "Suit yourself."


    Jarrod''s gaze lingered on the kit for a moment. "Is the hospital sourcing its supplies from you? How do you have all this?"


    The box was huge-oneyer for treating wounds, two more packed with an assortment of bottles and jars, each one neatlybeled and sorted. Elodie knew exactly where everything was.


    "I care


    never ha my health. You can


    e too many vitaminway


    replied breezily, stowing the


    in the cab.


    As she walked back over, she noticed Jarrod was wearing ck Hermès leather


    slippers, the kind you''d only wear at home.


    He was dressed in all ck-loungewear, head to toe.


    "Why are you dressed like that?"


    Jarrod smoothed the bandage on his hand, replying calmly to each


    estion. "Didn''t realize het


    needed to


    put on a tux just to see you. Eine, I''ll keep it in mind next time."


    Elodie pressed her lips together, not rising to the bait. "If there''s nothing else, then


    "Mind if I borrow your charger? My phone''s dead." Jarrod set his phone on the table, cutting her off mid-sentence.


    She had no choice but to fetch it for him. "Just a second."


    She handed him her portable charger. "You can take it with you."


    It was as polite a hint as she could manage.


    Jarrod ignored it, keeping his head down as he switched his phone back on.


    He moved quickly, opening his messages.


    Elodie stood nearby, unable to avoid noticing his home screen-his profile photo, matching with Sylvie Fielding.


    She quickly looked away, not wanting to see anything she shouldn''t. It would be rude to stare.


    But Jarrod caught her nce. Without missing a beat, he held his phone out to her. "Want to see? Go ahead."


    Elodie frowned, puzzled. "Why would I want to?"


    He simply set the phone down on the table, not even bothering to lock the screen.


    In that


    cutting, "Ivan''s an


    casuais voice drifted over, y selfish man, Elodie, l


    were never right for him."


    She almostughed.


    Coming from Jarrod, of all people?


    "Well, I wasn''t right for you either—and we still ended up divorced, didn''t we?"