Chapter 72: What Are You Two Doing Late at Night?

He left her, potentially injured, there. Abigail found it laughable that she still clung to a faint hope when she saw Joan's name flash on his phone earlier. She wondered if, just this once, Sean might stay by her side and care for her.

As usual, he disappointed her.

She unfolded the design sketch, glanced at it, and refolded it. Leaning against the wall, she slowly made her way toward the artificial hill. She considered asking Luna for a ride, but it was so late she didn't want to bother her.

Entering the rose garden, she stopped when the man, who had just finished a call, noticed her. Standing in the dim light, he was tall and lean, with shoulder-length hair braided at the back of his head.

"Miss Quinn?" He recognized her immediately.

Seeing it was Victor Mendez, one of the models, Abigail nodded. "Yes. Are you out for a walk?"

"Yeah I was calling my family. Did you hurt your leg?" He noticed her favoring her right foot and approached her.

Her usually calm face showed a hint of embarrassment. "I was walking and tripped over a stone. It's a sprain, but it doesn't seem too serious. I'm just worried about delaying work tomorrow, so I'm being cautious."

Victor, with his angular, handsome face, looked serious. "You can't rely on assumptions. You have no experience; guessing won't help."

Abigail couldn't argue. He helped her to a garden bench, squatting before her and reaching for her ankle. She flinched, puzzling him.

Slightly uncomfortable, she explained, "I'm not used to people touching me."

"I'm a model. I've gained experience judging minor injuries and sprains from walking the runway. Will you trust me this once?" He looked at her sincerely.

She hesitated. "Maybe I should just see a doctor tomorrow—"

"If it's injured, it might be too late by tomorrow. Tomorrow is the fitting. You'll be running around with fabrics. Your boss won't be pleased if your injury hinders his work," he advised earnestly.

Abigail conceded. "Alright, please help me take a look."

Victor examined her ankle, applying pressure. She gasped.

"It's a minor muscle strain. It'll hurt tomorrow, but it won't stop you from walking. Apply ice when you get back, keep warm, and limit movement."

She nodded appreciatively. "You seem very professional."

"As a model, I've learned the hard way from uneven runways. Shall I walk you to your room? Avoid overexerting your left leg." He rose and offered his hand. She accepted his help.

They reached the hotel elevator. She stood on one leg, leaning on Victor. Just as it reached her floor, it stopped. Sean entered, his face impassive. He saw Abigail leaning on Victor, his gaze lingering on their contact before a shadow crossed his eyes.

As the elevator ascended, Sean turned to them. "What are you two doing so late at night?"

She felt he was being deliberate. Why would he ask that when he knows I'm injured? After comforting Joan, can't this jerk show some self-awareness and mind his own business?

Victor, oblivious to Sean's displeasure, replied, "Her leg is injured. I'm helping her to her room." As the elevator neared her floor, he added, "Remember to apply ice. If you have massage oil, use it for a gentle massage. Tap lightly. Keep warm at night and avoid putting too much pressure."

Abigail affirmed, "Got it. Thank you."

Sean's eyes frosted over, his mind filled with images of Victor and Abigail together. He radiated displeasure, and the elevator seemed to grow colder.