Chapter 161

The morning had been sunny, but by afternoon, the sky had turned overcast. Now, dark clouds gathered, promising rain. The air was thick and heavy.

The private doctor, a slightly older man, finished his long explanation. Marguerite's brow furrowed, and she pointed at herself. “Huh? Me?"

Seeing the beautiful girl's surprised expression, George adjusted his silver-framed glasses and corrected the doctor. "You've misunderstood."

Misunderstood? The doctor was already shocked that Northpine's most unattainable bachelor, the ‘Ice Prince' Mr. Spencer, was in a relationship, especially with a girl who looked so young. But an unmarried man and woman living together—what else was there to misunderstand?

"I have? Then you two are..." The doctor's mind raced to find a plausible explanation. He looked at George. “A relative's child? Your niece?"

George was speechless.

Suddenly demoted a generation, Marguerite was not pleased. “No. I'm his tenant. I'm renting a room from him."

The doctor's lips twitched. Who would believe that? Did Mr. Spencer really need the rent money?

George had no intention of explaining further and simply dismissed him. "I'm not that fragile. I don't need a babysitter. You can go home."

The doctor was paid a handsome salary and his reputation was everything. If he failed to provide top-notch service to Mr. Spencer, his career would be over. He adjusted his toupee and smiled. "In that case, I guess I'll just have to spend the night with you, Mr. Spencer.”

George stared at him, his face blank. "Don't be ridiculous. Leave."

Marguerite sat cross-legged on the sofa. "Is it really that serious?"

The doctor nodded. "We're worried about a secondary infection. His fever just broke, which means his body is at its weakest. If the virus attacks again tonight, it could be fatal."

This was genuinely life-threatening, not just the butler's exaggeration. Marguerite glanced at George. He looked like a beautiful, fragile patient, and it was hard not to feel a pang of sympathy. Her bright eyes were filled with concern.

George met her gaze and chuckled softly. "If I feel worse during the night, I'll call him myself. It's fine."

In the end, the doctor was sent away. George couldn't tolerate the idea of another man sleeping in his bed, or even in his house.

Whoosh!

The rain began to fall in sheets. A cool breeze drifted into the living room. Marguerite was curled up on the sofa, studying. George hadn't gone to bed either; he was on the other end of the sofa, working His laptop rested on his legs! his bespectacled eyes focused on the screen, looking both scholarly and incredibly alluring.

Feeling the chill, Marguerite looked up. “You should stop working and go to bed. The doctor said you need to rest."

Even sitting on the same sofa, he could smell the lovely, sweet scent that always clung to her. As much as he wanted to spend every possible moment with her, he saw the genuine worry in her eyes and closed his laptop.

"Alright. You should get some rest soon, too." Her concern for him was both thrilling and maddening. But more than anything, he wanted her to be happy, not worried about him.

The tall, handsome man stood up and headed for the stairs, leaving Marguerite with a view of his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

She studied for a while longer, until it was eleven-thirty. Then she, too, went upstairs. Lying spread-eagled on her bed, she stared at the ceiling, sleep eluding her.

Her phone buzzed. She picked it up. Another friend request.

[Marguerite, where were you all day?]

It was obviously Joshua. She wasn't in the mood. Her gaze fell on her chat with George. She was still worried about him. She knew how awful fevers were-the pounding headache, the throat that felt like it was full of razor blades. When she was little and got sick her parents would stay up with her affright

patiently feeding her water through a straw.

If George's fever spiked again in the middle of the night, and with one hand injured, even getting a glass of water would be an ordeal. It was a miserable thought.

It wasn't that she didn't want to watch over him. First, she'd never slept in the same room as a boy before. Second, and more importantly, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to control her own primal urges.

The rain hammered against the window, each drop like a beat against her heart.

In a flash, she shot out of bed. I've already seen him in the shower, she reasoned, What's watching him sleep? If something really happened to him tonight, she would regret it forever tomorrow. Besides, she had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar rooms anyway. She could study white keeping an eye or him. It was a perfect solution.

Her only concern was that George might object, or think she had ulterior motives.

Slipping on her slippers, Marguerite left her room and walked to the door next to hers. She curled her fingers and knocked.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sudden sound reached George's ears. He had just finished showering and paused in the middle of getting dressed. It could only be one person. There were only two of them in the villa tonight.

Stella was knocking on his door. She wouldn't... would she?