Chapter 51 I Don't Acknowledge the Engagement
"Quinley?"
David's devilish eyes suddenly narrowed. Quinley lay on her side, her half-dried hair disheveled and covering part of her face, but David recognized her immediately.
Perhaps the heat in her body hadn't completely subsided—she wasn't sleeping peacefully. Though Zachary had tucked her in tightly, she kept kicking off the covers, exposing a stretch of pale, bare arm.
Before David could look away, the restless Quinley began thrashing again. Despite being small and thin, she was surprisingly strong, nearly throwing off the entire blanket. Zachary reacted quickly, rushing forward to pull the covers back up. But David had already seen it—Quinley wasn't wearing any clothes.
"What are you standing there for?" Zachary barked sharply.
David's lips curved into a cold smile. He slowly pulled out his stethoscope and walked toward Quinley at a leisurely pace. Before he could get close, Zachary grabbed one end of the stethoscope. "Close your eyes."
David rolled his eyes but complied, though his mouth remained unruly. "Zachary, don't forget—I'm the doctor here. You understand the principle that medical treatment knows no shame, right?"
"Cut the crap," Zachary snapped again. He personally placed the stethoscope on Quinley's chest while David kept his eyes closed and said nothing more, though his expression was grim.
"Done." After a few minutes, David responded, removed the stethoscope, and turned away coldly, grabbing his medical bag and leaving the bedroom. Soon he returned with prepared medication and a syringe.
"Why don't you do the injection?" He deliberately pushed the syringe toward Zachary.
Zachary's expression darkened as he glanced at David. "Looks like you want me to punch you instead."
"Really? I'm up for it." David's lips curled upward, refusing to back down either in words or attitude.
"Expose her arm for the injection." Zachary complied. Within five minutes of the injection, Quinley was sleeping much more peacefully.
David didn't leave. He crossed his arms over his chest and lounged in the armchair by the door, his gaze fixed not on Quinley but on the window frame.
"I heard you got engaged to Alicia. Already engaged but still playing the field—do you think the Davis family are pushovers? Or do you think this girl is easy to bully?"
"I don't acknowledge any engagement." Zachary was stubborn and cold. That was something Sylvia and Alicia had announced unilaterally—it had nothing to do with him.
David snorted again. "So do you think the Davis family will let her off the hook? Or that the Jennings family will accept her?"
Elite family marriages were all about matching social status. Though Zachary held little standing in the Jennings family, he still carried their blood and had to follow their rules. He favored Quinley, but she didn't meet any of the requirements. He refused to acknowledge his engagement to Alicia, but so what?
The two families were prominent in Rosewood City. Sylvia had orchestrated this whole thing and released the news herself. It wouldn't be easy for Zachary to distance himself.
"None of your damn business!" Zachary retorted rudely.
David felt rebuffed, stood up, and headed out with his medical bag. "Don't say I didn't warn you when this comes back to bite you both."
He was about to leave, but Zachary stopped him. He had the servants prepare a guest room on the same floor, near the staircase. "Don't leave until she wakes up."
David said nothing, just rolled his eyes and went into the guest room, deliberately slamming the door with a loud bang.
Quinley slept exceptionally soundly. When she woke, the sun was already high in the sky. A breeze stirred the curtains, and a beam of light streamed through the gap, falling right across her eyes.
Quinley squinted against the light and struggled awake, only to discover she was lying in Zachary's king-size bed. Even more shocking—she was completely naked. She couldn't remember much from the night before. She only recalled being at Golden Mile Entertainment, drinking the glass Mike had given her, and then everything became fuzzy.
Quinley covered her chest and leaned over the bed edge, looking for her shoes. Just then, the door opened. Zachary walked in wearing a navy blue robe, standing tall with his usual commanding presence.
"You're awake?" Quinley nodded, but her hand clutching the blanket to her chest never relaxed.
"Someone drugged you last night. You were delirious, so I brought you here," Zachary explained.
Quinley kept her eyes downcast and nodded. "Thank you." Cold and distant—a vast chasm stretched between them.
"Rest well." Zachary finished speaking, grasped the door handle, and closed the door behind him.
Soon after, there was a knock. "Ms. Elikin, I've brought you breakfast." Martha stood outside with a food tray. Quinley responded, and she entered. Quinley huddled in the blankets, deeply embarrassed.
Martha set the tray on the nightstand and turned to leave, but Quinley called out to her. "Martha, could you help me find some clothes?"
Martha looked slightly surprised but nodded. "Please wait a moment. I'll find something right away."
Shortly after, Martha returned carrying a complete set of clothing. "The young master had these bought this morning. I've washed them, so you can wear them with confidence." Martha set everything down and left.
Quinley grabbed the clothes and quickly dressed herself. Zachary was thoughtful, remembering all her clothing sizes, including her intimate garments. He'd even bought her new shoes—size 37, soft lambskin pumps with three-centimeter heels, perfect for Quinley.
Once fully dressed, she emerged from the room. All traces of last night's dishevelment were gone—she looked polished and radiant again.
Coming down from the second floor, Zachary sat at the dining table eating breakfast while responding to emails on his tablet. He noticed her descent and looked up. Even while chewing, his manners remained refined.
"Leaving?" Zachary asked.
Quinley nodded, hands clasped in front of her stomach in the respectful posture she'd maintained as his secretary. "I can't impose on you any longer."
Quinley finished speaking and headed toward the entrance with her purse. Zachary's voice followed her. "Martha, call Dr. Brown. She can't leave until the doctor confirms she's fine."
Martha immediately went to knock on David's door. He'd been sleeping soundly, and being woken up made him incredibly grumpy.
"Zachary, are you trying to kill me? I'm a doctor, not your family servant." David grumbled and cursed but still came downstairs. Then he saw Quinley.
"Still here?" He flashed that devilish smile again, his eyes full of meaning.
"Just leaving," Quinley replied calmly, her expression unchanged. This was the second time David had caught her with Zachary.
"Give her another injection," Zachary commanded.
David rolled his eyes. He'd witnessed Zachary's tyrannical behavior before, but never to this extent. "Who's the doctor here, you or me? She's already fine—what injection does she need? Zachary, maybe you should rein in that control complex of yours. She's a person, not some pet cat or dog you keep. If you want to inject her, do it yourself."
David's rambling was truly asking for a beating. Zachary moved in close, swept David's legs, and sent him crashing to the floor. He pressed one knee to David's chest, his hands moving with startling speed. He clamped David's throat, his fingers tightening gradually.
"Want me to cut out your tongue?"
Caught off guard with no chance to resist, David's face turned red from lack of air. But he wouldn't yield or beg for mercy. A hoarse, rough voice squeezed two words from deep in his throat: "You dare!"
David met force with force, charging straight into Zachary's line of fire. He hadn't expected Zachary to get serious. Zachary grabbed a knife from the dining table, clamped David's mouth shut, and moved to cut his tongue.
"Do it then!" Though his mouth was clamped shut, David still managed to goad him with muffled words.
Quinley was terrified. She rushed over and tried to pry Zachary's hands away. "Mr. Jennings, you could kill him like this."
But Zachary was in a rage—how could he possibly let go? "Get lost!" He roared and shoved Quinley away with his free hand.
Perhaps he used too much force, or perhaps Quinley was too delicate. There was a loud "bang" as Quinley's forehead struck the coffee table hard.