Chapter 72

It was a subtle movement, but Alexander noticed it immediately. His fingers moved swiftly to the control panel, raising the tinted partition that separated them from Harrison in the driver’s seat. Without asking for permission, he lifted Evelyn’s injured foot and rested it carefully on his lap. The soft glow of the interior light revealed the angry red swelling around her ankle.

His brows furrowed. "Why are you always getting hurt?"

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "How should I know?"

It wasn’t as if she tried to be this fragile. But here she was, nursing yet another injury—this time, thanks to Alexander’s reckless driving. Or rather, Harrison’s.

Alexander examined her foot with surprising precision. "No fractures. Just a sprain. You’ll need to apply ointment when we get back and stay off it for a few days."

Evelyn blinked. "You know how to assess injuries?"

"Basic first aid isn’t exactly rocket science," he muttered, lifting his gaze to hers. Then his expression darkened.

"Your clothes…" He hesitated, nostrils flaring slightly.

Evelyn stiffened. "What about them?"

"…Never mind."

Realization dawned. "Oh. The smell?"

Alexander remained silent, but his grimace was answer enough.

Evelyn sighed, pulling her coat tighter around herself. "I was working in the lab. Some of the compounds linger."

No matter how many times she scrubbed her hands, the scent clung stubbornly to her skin. She had stopped noticing it hours ago, but of course, others would. No wonder Harrison had given her that hesitant look when she climbed into the car.

"Lab?" Alexander’s eyebrows shot up. "Aren’t you supposed to be making perfume?"

The incredulity in his voice nearly made her laugh. His expression practically screamed, Are you joking?

"Yes, perfume," she said dryly. "But before you get the final product, you have to analyze dozens of raw ingredients. Some of them smell… less than pleasant. Today’s task involved breaking down forty-eight components of a particularly aromatic blend."

Perfumery wasn’t just about mixing pretty scents—it was chemistry, precision, and occasionally, enduring foul odors in the name of research.

Alexander fell silent, his jaw tightening.

Assuming he was repulsed, Evelyn shifted away, rolling down the window to let in the crisp night air. Heat crept up her neck. She hadn’t expected him to pick her up tonight. If she had known, she would’ve scrubbed herself raw before leaving the lab.

Then, without warning, a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest.

"Why are you sitting so far?" His voice was low, almost petulant. "Afraid I’ll bite?"

Evelyn stiffened. "I don’t want to suffocate you with the stench."

"It doesn’t stink," he insisted, burying his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply—then promptly choked.

Cough. Cough.

Evelyn arched a brow. "Really convincing."

Alexander cleared his throat, undeterred. "It’s just… strong."

She rolled her eyes. "I’ll shower the second we get home."

His grip tightened. "Good."

Then, to her shock, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head—right through the lingering scent of lab chemicals.

Evelyn’s breath hitched.

Maybe he was more stubborn than she gave him credit for.