His Destructive, Toxic Love novel Chapter 458

"Outside the hotel," he said, guessing Eliza was fretting over Brock. "Brock's fine, don't worry."

She knew Brock was okay, but even with him being fine, he couldn't exactly patch himself up here.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"Not now."

He still didn't know who was behind the attack, and Dillon was already investigating. Going to the hospital would only tip off the assailant. These were just surface wounds, nothing serious.

Eliza could guess his thoughts. She lowered her gaze and, with her slender, delicate fingers, started cleaning the wounds on his chest with meticulous care. Her touch was gentle as she wiped away the blood.

Once the wound was clean, she carefully applied some ointment, the cool sensation making his heart skip a beat. His gaze on her was a mix of complexity, affection, and barely contained desire.

The deepest wound was on his left palm, a nasty cut. After applying the medicine, she wrapped it with thick gauze, but blood still seeped through.

"This hand… could it have damaged the nerves?" She wasn't a doctor, but she knew hands were delicate. "It's still bleeding..."

"It's fine," he said, brushing it off, seemingly not concerned.

Eliza didn't know whether to call him fearless or just used to such situations.

"Did you upset someone in business, or is this a personal vendetta?"

She furrowed her brow and looked up, meeting his calm, cool gaze. For a moment, she was taken aback, then a faint smile tugged at her lips. "What kind of personal vendetta could I have? If I owe anyone anything emotionally, it's you. Did you hire someone to kill me?"

Eliza: ...???

He gently patted her arm. "I understand. We're family; no need to be so formal. Mom would love to pick up Brock."

Eliza nodded again and looked up, her gaze accidentally falling on his bare chest. A wave of awkwardness surged through her, and she quickly looked away.

"You should rest. I'll call the hotel to send someone to clean up."

She tried to walk past him, eager to escape the narrow, tension-filled bathroom. Just as she was about to step away, he reached out and pulled her into his embrace.

His body was warm, holding her tightly, his lips nearly touching her neck. Her heartbeat quickened, her voice trembling. "Casper, what are you doing?"

"Do you know what I was thinking when those people were attacking me with knives?" His voice was dark and husky, almost a whisper filled with emotion.