”What’s that on your wrist?”

Deirdre’s heart skipped a beat. She retracted her hand immediately as if she had touched something hot, her heart racing. “What’s what?”

Her reaction was unexpected; Brendan was stunned. “Uh, why is it so dirty? It looks like dust.”

“Oh!” Deirdre exhaled a breath of relief. He did not see her injury after all. After all the trouble the scandal had brought to him via the Brighthall Group, the last thing she wanted was for Brendan to be distracted by her affair. “Er, the wall was a little dusty when I accidentally rubbed my skin against it.”

Brendan produced a piece of wet tissue. “I’ll help with that.”

He gingerly held her wrist with his one hand, but before the wet tissue even made contact, Deirdre suddenly withdrew hers in a state of nervous panic.

“What’s the matter?”

Deirdre went quiet, but Brendan thought he understood why she balked. “Sorry. I genuinely only wanted to clean your hand for you. If you’re not comfortable with it, you’re welcome to