Novel Storm
71
71
Connor was holding a cotton swab loaded with ointment for her. Camila, too lazy to head to the bathroom to look in the mirror, randomly dabbed it on her cheek.
“You’re making a mess even with just applying ointment,” Connor said with annoyance, taking the cotton swab from her hand and gently but attentively spreading it across her cheek.
Suddenly, Connor’s face loomed large before Camila, startling her so much that she held her breath, her dark eyes darting to the side. Probably because she held her breath too long, Camila coughed, breaking the intimate atmosphere.
“Alright, remember to apply the ointment in the morning. Here, I’ll give it to you. It’s getting late. I’ll take you home.”
“Okay.”
The next day, just as the sun was starting to rise, Camila sat on her bed, sighing quietly. She couldn’t even enjoy a lazy weekend moming.
Only overtime pay could comfort her spirit.
Arriving at Cedarhill Estate, Connor emerged from the bedroom, bleary–eyed and yawning. “Morning.”
Camila couldn’t help but chuckle secretly. Early mornings seemed to torture him even more. Seeing him barely able to keep his eyes open lifted her spirits immensely.
This exercise phase would probably pass after a few days.
After pouring Connor a glass of warm water, Camila sat on the sofa scrolling through her phone, waiting for him to freshen up. Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.
Suddenly, something cold pressed against her cheek. Camila jumped, nearly dropping her phone.
“Hold this,” Connor said.
Realizing it was an ice pack, Camila quickly grabbed it.
With a faint smile, Connor walked off to freshen up.
Both changed into their workout clothes and went downstairs to the tree–lined avenue to stretch.
Camila thought they would just jog casually, but they ended up running nonstop for fifteen minutes.
“I… I… I can’t keep up. You go ahead. I’ll rest a bit and catch up later.”
Bending over, hands on her hips, Camila was gasping for breath.
Connor stopped and jogged in place. “Just a bit longer.”
Exhausted, Camila waved her hand dismissively and slowly walked over to sit down on a row of bamboo chairs nearby. Connor was a practically asking for her life.
Connor ran over and pulled her up from the chair. “Didn’t your coach ever teach you not to sit down immediately after running?”
“Mr. Connor, I really can’t run anymore,” Camila panted heavily, reaching her limit.
“Finish the lap, or no overtime pay.”
Was that a threat?
Camila’s mind raced. Just a bit more effort and several hundred dollars would be hers. If she didn’t run, not only would she lose the money, but the sacrificed sleep would be in vain too.
Biting her lip, she suddenly felt a surge of strength.
“Run slowly. Adjust your breathing,” Connor instructed.
Camila trudged along, panting heavily.
Connor jogged behind her, watching her frail yet stubborn figure, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. She really was a
money–lover.
Finally, after rounding the neighborhood twice, Camila, driven by the promise of overtime pay, finished the run, nearly collapsing. Connor was barely sweating. He hardly looked like he had just been on a long run. “Let’s stretch here. I’ll go buy some water.”
Camila nodded weakly.
After resting for a while, they slowly walked back, passing by Belleview Heights.
“Mr. Connor, I’m going home to shower.”
“No rush, let’s go back for some boxing.”
Camila’s eyes
widened more than ever. She was nearly ready to drop dead on the spot.