Chapter 38 Iris Is Sick
With that, Donovan hung up the phone and pulled a camouflage jacket out of the first-aid kit.
“Iris, take off your wet clothes.”
Iris thought this man was completely beyond comprehension—was he actually trying to take advantage of her again?
Telling her to take off her clothes in front of other people?
Bastard! Shameless!!
She pushed against Donovan’s chest with all her strength, trying to break free from his embrace, but her whole body was shivering.
The helicopter climbed higher, and the air grew thin.
Overcome by exhaustion, Iris mustered her last ounce of strength and croaked at Donovan: “I won’t take it off…”
Then she lost consciousness.
Donovan raised his hand to feel Iris' forehead. It was burning hot, as if a fire were raging across her cheeks, her entire face flushed unnaturally.
She has a fever.
Donovan set down his camouflage jacket and stripped off her damp top swiftly.
Underneath was a thin spaghetti-strap tank top, also soaked through with sweat and moisture.
Without hesitation, he pulled that off as well, leaving her in nothing but a simple off-white bra.
The straps were a bit too tight, leaving a thin red mark on her fair skin.
Donovan’s gaze lingered on the curve of her chest, and his Adam’s apple bobbed imperceptibly.
He watched shortly before picking up the camouflage jacket beside him and wrapping Iris tightly in it.
He then looked up at Corbin, who was operating the controls ahead.
“Tell those three to come up. We’re heading back to Anaheim.”
“Yes.”
Anaheim, AT Villa.
Eleven o’clock at night.
The helicopter had just touched down. Donovan, holding Iris in his arms, was the first to step off the aircraft, striding toward the villa.
Four men followed close behind.
As Donovan walked away quickly, Flynn couldn’t help but give Wright a meaningful look.
“Wow, it’s over after just six hours? The boss not only has a woman by his side now, but his temper’s even improved?”
Wright slung his arm around Flynn’s shoulder and gave him a light slap on the chest.
“Cut it out. If she hadn’t been sick, with your stamina, you’d have run your legs off today.”
“Hey, what are you talking about? It was just a day and a night—you’re really underestimating me!”
Just as the two were laughing with their arms around each other’s shoulders, a deep voice suddenly came from the shadows ahead: “Having a good time?”
Wright and Flynn froze simultaneously and turned their heads slowly.
Donovan had returned at some point; he was standing with his arms crossed, leaning against a pillar on the villa’s porch, his gaze fixed on them.
Harrison sighed helplessly.
He quickened his pace, intending to distance himself from the two of them, lest he get dragged into trouble and punished later.
“Harrison,” Corbin whispered from behind him, “has the Boss decided on the final spot for the Silver Fox Team yet?”
Harrison shook his head. “Not yet.”
From the very beginning of the Silver Fox Team, Donovan had set a limit of ten members.
Since then, new recruits could only be added when a vacancy arose, and the requirements for each member’s abilities were extremely strict.
They had to be either all-rounders like Wright, Vance, and Jax—they had to be skilled in everything, and excel at every task.
Or they had to be top-tier specialists like Flynn, a master marksman who was proficient with all types of firearms.
Or Sterling, a top-tier explosives expert who could dismantle any explosive device with his eyes closed.
And finally, Mercedes, a wilderness survival expert and the Silver Fox Team’s indispensable chief medic.
Since MG Corporation was founded, the size of Donovan’s mercenary force has grown from a few hundred to over 14,000 today.
Yet the core members of the Silver Fox Team have always remained at just eight.
Last year, Samuel and Corbin stood out during a series of grueling evaluations.
Samuel excelled in all physical fitness tests and was a world-class hacker.
Corbin, meanwhile, ranked first in the all-around category.
Donovan had originally intended to recruit them into the Silver Fox Team to fill the final two vacancies.
But it turned out Corbin cried too easily.
The reason was simple: Donovan hated it when people cried.
He found it annoying when women cried, and even more so when men did!
Harrison noticed Corbin had gone quiet behind him and turned to glance at him.
He saw Corbin propping up his red, stinging eyes and blinking frantically, afraid the tears would fall.
Harrison couldn’t help but wonder if Corbin and Iris were related.
Tears just flowed whenever they wanted to.
And during the few days Iris had spent with the Boss, there was hardly a day she didn’t cry.
If the Boss could put up with this, maybe he’d ease up on Corbin in the future.
So, in a rare moment of kindness, Harrison reached out and patted Corbin on the shoulder, offering comfort: “Don’t worry, you’re still young. Joining the team is only a matter of time. Just do your best and don’t cry at the drop of a hat.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the tears Corbin had barely managed to hold back began to stream down his face.
Seeing this, Harrison quickly withdrew his hand and walked toward the villa without looking back.
Immediately afterward, Corbin shouted from behind him, “I’ll do my best! I’ll definitely join you guys!”
Harrison slapped his forehead. Right—Corbin had another annoying habit: he spoke way too loudly!
Inside the room, the doctor was examining Iris, while Donovan stood by the bed.
“Mr. Sharpe, Miss Hawthorne has a delicate constitution. Her diet has been irregular these past few days, and combined with the successive shocks she’s endured, she caught a chill after coming into contact with cold water—that’s what caused the fever and fainting.”
“When will she wake up?”
“We’ve already administered an antipyretic injection. She’ll wake up once her temperature drops. After she wakes, she needs to take her medication on time, stick to a light diet, and rest in bed for a few more days, and she’ll be fine.”
Kittens were just like that—so fragile and delicate.
Donovan glanced at Iris' rosy cheeks peeking out from under the covers, then turned and walked over to the wardrobe, pulling out a set of light, breathable silk pajamas.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure lingering by the door; he didn’t even have to think to know it was Harrison.
So he handed the nightgown to the doctor, who had already packed up and was ready to leave.
“Help her change into this before you go.”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Donovan stepped out of the room, and Harrison, who had been waiting outside, immediately approached him.
“Boss, Samuel is here.”