Chapter 39
Galatea’s cheeks flushed with Cormac’s misunderstanding, and she hurriedly turned to Alaric. “You better clear things up with your friend, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Alaric replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Alright, if you’re ready, let’s begin,” Galatea said, reaching for an acupuncture needle.
However, as her gaze fell on Alaric’s chest, what caught her attention wasn’t his washboard abs, but the glaring scar near his heart—an unsettling mark.
“Is that the scar from that mission?” she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of horror and sympathy. The scar was formidable; she could only imagine the pain he’d gone through to earn it.
“I’ve got plenty of other scars. You want to see them?” Alaric teased, noting the intrigued look in Galatea’s eyes. Without hesitation, he began unbuckling his belt.
Galatea hastily reached out, stopping him. “What are you doing? Who said I wanted to see them?” She shot him an irritated look.
‘Shameless!’ she thought, rolling her eyes internally.
Alaric smirked. “You want a helping hand, but you don’t have the guts.” He straightened his belt and added, “If you’d just admit from the start that you want to get close to my son to get ahead, maybe I would’ve married you to get rid of Orion—instead of this fake relationship.”
His words stung, sharp and cutting. The insinuation was clear: she had made a tactical error. They were entwined in a pretend romance, not a false marriage. Did she wish it were otherwise now?
Lately, Galatea’s life seemed to have taken a downturn. From medical mishaps to constant online harassment, the drama surrounding the Nash family felt endless. To top it off, even Mrs. Marigold’s portrait had mysteriously disappeared.
Despite the heaviness of her mood, Alaric’s teasing remark caused her to chuckle—a genuine, spontaneous laugh.
“Alaric, I really owe you one,” Galatea said, gratitude in her voice. “I’ve encountered countless patients throughout my years as a doctor, but your ‘condition’ is the only one that could bring me such joy.”
Alaric raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by her words.
“Are you worried about trust issues?” Galatea continued, brushing off her own thoughts. “We could always draw up a contract. It’d make it clear that we’re just pretending to be a couple, with no intention of getting married. Once Orion loses interest, we terminate the agreement. If either of us breaches it, we owe the other a million. What do you say?”
Alaric’s expression darkened further, his frown deepening. Her audacity and determination were impressive, but her boldness was something else entirely.
“Are you going to do my physical therapy or not?” he demanded sharply, his tone full of authority. “My time is precious. You couldn’t afford to waste a single minute of it!”
“Yes, Mr. Knight!” Galatea responded crisply, focusing on the task at hand as she began the session. Despite the tension, she was careful and precise in her work.
However, midway through the therapy, her phone rang. It was Elisa. Reluctantly, Galatea answered and put the call on speaker mode.
“Mom, aren’t you off work? Why aren’t you home yet?” Elisa’s voice echoed through the room.
Galatea had been providing therapy to Alaric outside her normal working hours.
“I’m on a house call. You guys go ahead and eat. Don’t wait for me,” Galatea replied, her tone calm.
“A house call?” Elisa asked, her skepticism evident. “You’re already off work. What kind of house call could it be? You’re not on a date, are you? Is Mr. Knight right there with you?”
Before Galatea could respond, Alaric chimed in with an amused grin. “Elisa’s got it all figured out,” he said, clearly enjoying her discomfort.
Elisa sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “Mom, Harry and I are fine with you remarrying. There’s no need to lie about going on a date.”
“I’m not lying,” Galatea protested, though her voice lacked conviction.
“Mr. Knight, you better take good care of my mom. And if you two are busy tonight, you don’t need to send her back home,” Elisa added, her words dripping with insinuation.
‘What is she implying?’ Galatea thought, her frustration mounting.
“Elisa Storm!” she snapped, but Elisa had already hung up, leaving Galatea seething.
“Why did you have to say anything?” Galatea scolded Alaric, her irritation clear.
“Elisa asked if I was here, so I answered. What’s the problem? Isn’t that the case?” Alaric shrugged nonchalantly.
Galatea fell silent, seething but unable to argue further.
“Your daughter seems to like me a lot,” Alaric mused with a hint of smugness. “She’s met me twice, and both times, she’s been pushing for me to marry you. Now, her intentions couldn’t be clearer.”
“I’ll have a serious talk with her when I get home,” Galatea promised, though deep down, she was unsure of what Elisa saw in Alaric. Back in America, many suitors had pursued her, but Elisa had shown no interest in any of them.
Alaric raised a question that caught her off guard. “Elisa says she’s an orphan. I find that odd. Your husband passed away under normal circumstances, yet you’ve never mentioned him to your child. Why’s that?”
Galatea paused at the question, her needle hovering in mid-air. It was a sensitive subject, but after a brief moment of hesitation, she resumed her work, her stitching swift and practiced.
“Alaric,” she snapped, her voice cold, “you said it yourself. We’re pretending to be a couple. I’m under no obligation to disclose my personal life to you.”
Alaric’s piercing gaze told her he wasn’t buying it. He was certain she was hiding something.
“I’m not just your faux fiancé now,” he said, leaning forward with an edge in his voice, “I’m also your boss. You don’t have to share your secrets with me, but if you’ve fabricated your past or your resume to deceive me, I will take that very seriously.”
‘Personal history? Resume?’ Galatea thought. Was he hinting at something she wasn’t prepared to face?
She hadn’t intended to bring her past up—but now, Alaric’s insinuations made her question just how much he knew. Could he have found out something about her history?
With a steady, cold tone, she finally spoke. “Alaric,” she said, her voice dripping with a threatening edge, “Did you forget that I have something on you as well? As your private physician, I know your health better than anyone. A little something in your medication, and you could suffer a prolonged demise.”
His eyes darkened with fury. “You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled.
Galatea briefly considered taking that route—spiking his medicine—but her professional ethics held her back. She couldn’t compromise her integrity, no matter how much he provoked her.
Silence stretched between them as Galatea continued with the therapy, focused on her task despite the tension. When she finally finished, she stood and circled him, examining her work with quiet precision.
After a moment, she couldn’t resist. A mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “Just imagine if I uploaded a photo of you like this to the internet. What do you think would happen?”
Alaric’s eyes widened in alarm as he instinctively lunged for her phone. “Galatea!” he exclaimed, but she easily dodged his grab.
The sudden movement threw him off balance, and as he staggered, almost knocking an ice pack off his chest, Galatea quickly stepped forward to steady him.
But the force of his body against hers caused her to crash harshly into the edge of the table, the impact jarring her.