CHAPTER 41: CHAPTER 41: EVEN IF IT’S A GHOST

"You just..."

The scene still lingered before her eyes, the bulging pajamas, the man’s neat and clean short hair.

She was bashfully embarrassed, paused for a moment, her voice as thin as silk.

"I did nothing."

Jean Ellison quickly walked away, followed by a cold reprimand behind her.

"Come back."

She stopped, slowly turned around to look at him, she pretended nothing had happened, what else was he dissatisfied with?

"What just happened is called seduction, understand?"

"Depending on the severity, it carries a sentence of more than three years but less than ten years in prison."

"Should I... report to the police now?"

Jean muttered, looking at Justin Holden with a timid gaze.

What was he trying to do by saying these things?

Justin adjusted his shirt, his eyebrows behind the frameless glasses were cold and abstinent as they swept across her face, his expression serious.

"There’s no need for this between us."

Jean curled her lips slightly, what ’us’, she had nothing to do with him long ago.

Justin threw the tie in his hand onto the sofa beside him, his eyes darkened as he glanced at her.

"If anyone else does this to you, you should call the police, or call me immediately, instead of saying..."

His voice paused, his expression grew colder.

"He did nothing."

Jean waved her hand dismissively, "I’m not a child."

Of course, she understood these principles, besides, who would be as roguish as he was.

"You didn’t seem like you were about to refuse just now."

The indifferent and steady words came from behind, her body stiffened as if someone had sealed her acupoint, standing motionless in the living room.

The feeling he gave her was still so familiar.

She couldn’t feel any repulsion from her body, her mind was completely blank.

Not only did she not resist or refuse, she even felt a long-lost sense of security.

The moistness in her eyes wasn’t due to pain, but a strange feeling.

Not only her body, but even her heart was filled with something, there was nothing left but unconscious tears.

Jean heard his footsteps, and when she turned around, Justin was already standing behind her.

"Lawyer Holden, I’ve been in prison for five years."

She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

Humans have desires; she had been a nun for five years. Faced with him, losing control wasn’t something difficult to understand, right?

"Whether it’s you or anyone else, it makes no difference to me."

Justin’s face darkened.

She said he was no different from other men, was she comparing him to that Pei person, or that pretty face?

He stood quietly, watching Jean walk toward the cabinet nearby.

She took out a blanket inside and handed it to him, "There’s no spare quilt at home, you cover with this, sleep on the bed."

Justin glanced at the blanket in her hand, pink with cartoon patterns on it.

"I won’t use this; I want the quilt inside."

Actually, it didn’t matter to him what he covered with; he couldn’t sleep anyway.

"No, that’s mine."

Without thinking, Jean refused him; how could she let him use her quilt, the one she used regularly?

Justin remained silent, glanced at the time on the wall, and said, "It’s still early, I don’t mind..."

"Wait."

Jean reflexively responded, she couldn’t bear those two words, ’still early’.

"What exactly do you want before you agree to sleep?"

She needed to watch him fall asleep so she could rest assured, she was afraid he would touch her again.

Justin’s thin lips curled slightly, his dark eyes gazing into hers.

"It’s simple, tonight we both sleep on the bed."

"In your dreams."

Jean hurriedly interrupted him, glaring at him, her tone displeased.

"Ah, half-price for helping with a case, staying as a guest, and having to sleep on the sofa."

"Is someone being too cruel? If I can’t sleep well, I won’t have the energy to work, maybe it’ll affect..."

"Stop!"

Jean extended her hand, gesturing for him to stay quiet.

"You must focus on my case; you can’t lose."

With a stern face, hugging the blanket, she walked into the bedroom.

Isn’t it just sharing a bed, what’s the big deal? Justin couldn’t do anything to her in her sleep, could he?

Justin followed behind her, she could feel his gaze lingering on her the whole time.

"You sleep on the left, I’ll sleep on the right."

She pointed to the bed, throwing the blanket to the man behind her.

"You can only use this, or freeze if you don’t want to."

Justin took the blanket, got onto the bed obediently, and tapped the side of the bed with his hand.

"Come."

Jean didn’t look at him, turned aside, and said coldly, "I still need to wash up, you sleep first."

Once he fell asleep, she’d sneak to the sofa in the living room; didn’t he want to sleep on the sofa? Then let him sleep there himself.

"Alright."

Justin responded, he couldn’t sleep anyway, whatever she intended to do was fine with him.

Jean walked into the bathroom, stayed there for quite a while before coming out.

She opened the door, seeing the room dimly lit, with only a bedside lamp on.

The man was leaning against the bed, his body slanted, long arms pressed on the pillow, which was dented, and the muscles on his forearms were taut.

The golden light like sunset shone on his face in low saturation, enhancing his superior and generous features, his facial contours were angular and defined.

His eyes were closed, breath deep and steady, long raven lashes brushed against his eyelids.

The corner of the white quilt slid off, revealing a strong shoulder, the white and slender neck below had a clavicle straight and clear, Adam’s apple slightly moving.

Jean walked over quietly, standing by the bed, looking down at the man on the bed.

In five years, he seemed unchanged at all.

He used to be like this; when he was exhausted, he could fall asleep whether lying down or sitting.

He was simply a workaholic.

Jean thought his face looked a bit red, she reached out and touched his forehead, the touch warm.

It seemed he had a fever.

"Justin Holden."

She called out to him, calling several times without any response.

Jean hugged his arm, unable to drag him; he was too heavy, she used all her strength, yet he remained motionless, leaned against the bed.

Sweat covered her forehead; this wouldn’t work, she couldn’t get him to a hospital, she’d have to give him fever-reducing medicine.

Turning around, her hand was caught, a warm, dry hand covered the back of hers, the grip was light.

"Don’t go."

His voice was small, raspy, but Jean heard it well enough.

Jean sighed, pried his hand loose, speaking softly, "I need to get you medicine, let go."

Though she hated him, she didn’t want him dead.

He should live and repay the debts he owed her, owed the Caldwell family.

Justin’s hand pressed on the bed, fingers moved slightly, slowly opened his eyes to a blurry sight, seeing a woman walk out of the bedroom.

He struggled to prop himself up, trying to sit up, but couldn’t muster any strength.

"Claire..."

A hoarse voice, indistinct words.

Even if it were a ghost, he wanted to see her.

Her spirit was always with him; he told Samual Pryce, Samual didn’t believe, said he was crazy, should consult a doctor.

Yes, he was indeed sick.

Besides Claire Caldwell, who else in this world would take care of him?