The Broken-hearted She And The Icy He (Lily and John) novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15 Lily’s Red Lips–His Personal Curse

Let her drown!

Simon kept telling himself he didn’t care about this ungrateful woman. He just didn’t want a dead body showing up at his villa.

But after parking the car, he stormed toward the pool.

Lily had already crawled out of the water.

The temperature had dropped tonight, and the pool was freezing.

Earlier, she had felt like her entire body was ablaze.

The fire had spread like wildfire, threatening to reduce her to ashes.

But the icy water extinguished those flames little by little until they were nothing more than dying sparks -eventually snuffed out entirely.

Now that the burning had stopped, the cold set in.

She tried to pull her clothes tighter.

But too much had happened tonight. Her body had endured too much. She’d been drugged, thrown around, jumped out a window, and plunged into freezing water.

Dragging herself from the pool had drained every last ounce of her strength. Before she could even gather her clothes, she collapsed to the ground, completely still.

“Lily, are you trying to die?!”

Simon’s expression turned uglier as he saw that even after throwing herself into a freezing pool, she still refused to ask him for help.

His eyes brimmed with contempt.

Still, when she didn’t move at all, he grudgingly stepped forward and hauled her up with one arm.

“Call the private doctor.”

Seeing her soaked through, he frowned in disgust again, then turned to the waiting maids. “Get her changed. Now.”

After jumping from a window and into a freezing pool, even the strongest person would struggle.

Her right ankle had swollen into a red lump, and soon after, she developed a high fever.

When it spiked past 100°F, the doctor administered an IV drip immediately.

By the time Lily finished the treatment, it was almost 1 a.m.

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Chapter 15 Lily’s Red Lips–His Personal Curse

Simon was in a foul mood all night. Every minute had been aggravating. He felt irritable, restless, and completely unable to sleep.

Standing stiffly by the bed, he remembered the doctor’s instructions–apply the ointment to her sprained ankle every half hour on the first day. Begrudgingly, he reached for her foot.

While the doctor had been treating her earlier, Simon had taken a call from his men.

Those thugs had been delivered to the police.

They claimed the man who hired them–wearing a black mask–was Simon.

But their description didn’t match his face or build.

Clearly, someone had impersonated him.

Unfortunately, the payment had been in cash. No wire transfer. No call records. Nothing traceable.

Because he’d taken the call on the balcony, he hadn’t seen what Lily’s feet looked like before.

Now, gripping her foot, he finally noticed: it was unbelievably small and pale.

She wasn’t short–at least 5’5“, maybe taller–but her foot looked like a size 36 at most.

Simon, used to his own size 44 feet, almost thought it was fake.

But the warmth and softness in his palm were real. He couldn’t deny it–some people really did have feet this delicate.

She wasn’t wearing nail polish, but her nails were neat, smooth, and slightly pink under the white. Somehow adorable.

Her legs were beautiful too.

Long, slender, fair–like they’d been carved from the finest jade.

Which only made the swelling around her ankle look more jarring. He frowned instinctively at the sight.

“Hideous.”

“And John still chose to hurt Elsa over and over again because of you… He must be blind.”

He muttered with a scowl, then reluctantly dipped a cotton swab into the ointment and began applying it to her ankle.

The sting made her flinch, foot jerking in his hand.

The sudden motion snapped Simon out of his daze.

Only then did he realize–he was still holding her small, porcelain–white foot.

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Their skin was practically pressed together. The contact set his nerves ablaze, heating his cheeks with a slow, creeping blush.

“Lily, don’t touch me! Stay away from me from now on!”

His voice exploded in anger–but it was panic more than anything.

Because it wasn’t her clinging to him.

It was him gripping her foot like a fool.

Simon’s expression turned stormy.

Like he’d been stung, he quickly let go and stormed into the bathroom to wash the ointment off his hands.

When he returned, he stood at the bedside again.

Not because he wanted to be near her.

No–she was on his bed. He had nowhere else to go.

At first, he kept his gaze away, staring coldly at the blank wall.

But eventually, his eyes drifted back to her.

Her fever had gone down a bit after the IV, but her face was still flushed.

It looked like rouge had been brushed across pale porcelain—or like red maple leaves settling beneath moonlight.

Surprisingly… she didn’t look as ugly as usual.

Her lashes were long, naturally curled, like little fans.

And below them…

Past her delicate neck, he caught sight of her trembling, crimson lips.

That day in the hotel… she’d used those very lips to shamelessly steal his first kiss!

Simon’s ears burned red.

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