Chapter 8 Chapter 8 Ordered to Bathe the Cold-Hearted Heir

"Give me a hand."

She honestly thought he'd be able to manage getting up on his own by now.

Celeste hesitated a little before going over and helping him off the floor.

It was only then that she realized how tall Ethan actually was. Sitting in the wheelchair didn't show it, but now that his six-foot-one frame was leaning on her, he felt ridiculously heavy.

She struggled to get him back into the wheelchair, panting as she did so.

"If that's all, I'm going back to bed." She yawned like she could fall asleep standing-no joke, the nightmares had been relentless these past few days.

Her careless words made Ethan's brow tighten dangerously, like he could swat a fly to death with the tension.

"It's late. I need a shower," he said, in that low, no-discussion tone, voice sharp with chill.

Celeste stopped mid-step.

"...A shower?" Her brain was already turning into a confused mess.

Was he seriously asking her to help with his bath?

No way. That gorgeous woman earlier offered, and he turned her down. Now she walks in and gets stuck with this job?

"Yeah." Ethan clearly had zero patience left. He was already wheeling toward the bathroom. "Come here."

Again, he was ordering her around like she was his assistant.

Ughhhh. Could she say no? Who takes a shower at this hour?! But also, ditching a disabled guy alone in this state felt kinda heartless...

Fine. Whatever. She'd suck it up.

After standing there mentally prepping herself for a moment, Celeste finally dragged her feet forward.

Never in her life had she helped someone shower. Back when she was the pampered Goodwin heiress, she had maids doing all this for her.

She went through the motions she vaguely remembered-started the water and filled the tub.

Ethan sat nearby in his wheelchair, eyes fixed on her.

Under the dim LED bathroom light, Celeste's delicate features were softened. As she bent over the tub, the exposed curve of her collarbone caught the light. She dipped her hand to check the temperature again, adjusting it slightly.

"Alright, water's ready. Hop in." She turned around and said it offhandedly.

And instantly regretted it.

She'd forgotten-he couldn't "hop" anywhere by himself. She'd have to undress him first.

Sure enough, Ethan's whole expression dropped a few shades darker.

The air in the room instantly tightened, like all the oxygen had been sucked out.

Celeste looked at him, then awkwardly pointed to herself. "So... you want me to, uh, help with your clothes?"

He didn't reply, just kept staring at her like she'd grown another head. The kind of stare that made her skin crawl.

Alright, point taken.

She braced herself and helped him up again, wobbling under his weight like she might tip over any second.

With one arm holding him steady, she started unbuttoning his shirt, gritting through her teeth. "You're seriously heavy. Who usually helped you shower before?"

And then she muttered, "If I'm stuck doing this from now on, I might need to go buy a cane or something, otherwise-"

The rest of the sentence never made it out.

In a blur, Ethan pushed her hard, frustration snapping.

She stumbled, her foot catching on some spilled water, and she ended up landing straight on him as he'd just started getting into the tub.

Both of them crashed into the bath at once, water splashing everywhere.

Now fully soaked, her white shirt clung to her like second skin, showing off every curve. But worse than that-her hand had ended up somewhere it really shouldn't be...