"Do you want some more? I’ll have Charlie River get you some from the arsenal?"
Sophie Sullivan was speechless.
Thomas Shannon snorted coldly, took some clean clothes from the wardrobe, and entered the bath chamber.
Seeing the mess on the ground in the bath chamber, Thomas Shannon couldn’t bear it and roared, "You little lunatic!"
Sophie covered her ears. I can’t hear, can’t hear...
Soon, the man stormed out of the bath chamber, slamming the door behind him. He strode to the bedside and looked down at the culprit. "What on earth are you up to?"
Sophie opened her eyes slowly, blinking her dazed eyes. "I don’t understand what you’re saying."
"Still pretending?" Thomas Shannon grabbed her arm and yanked her from the bed. His cold eyes darkened, and his handsome face turned gloomy. "What kind of game are you playing?"
What game was she playing? She was just in a bad mood and wanted to smash something to vent. Was it really such a big deal?
Sophie pursed her lips. "Game? What game do you think I’d play on you?"
The man’s narrow eyes narrowed dangerously. "That’s for you to answer."
Sophie gave a self-deprecating laugh, placing a hand on his chest. "Young Master Shannon, you’re really overthinking things. I know my place. I can’t compare to the cinnabar mole on your heart, much less the woman who’s like a white moonlight to you. So, what game could I possibly play?"
"Oh, really?" Thomas Shannon sneered, "Now, clean up the bath chamber for me."
Sophie withdrew her hand, her beautiful eyes wide with disbelief. "What did you say?"
"Clean up the bath chamber. Do I need to say it a third time?"
Sophie clenched her teeth. "You’re cruel!"
She got up, climbed out of bed, and walked into the bath chamber.
Looking at the bathing lotion and shampoo spilled all over the floor, Sophie felt a headache coming on. She glanced at the shower head, planning to rinse everything away with water. But as she took a step, her foot slipped—
With a muffled thud, she fell to the ground, unable to move.
Thomas Shannon heard the noise from the bath chamber and hurried in. Seeing the woman on the ground, he was both exasperated and amused. "What are you doing lying on the ground?"
Sophie’s face had turned pale with pain. "You’re still laughing? Can’t you see I’ve fallen?!"
"Oh? I thought you had a peculiar hobby, like sleeping in the bath chamber."
"Thomas Shannon, you bastard!"
Thomas Shannon squatted beside her, gripping her chin and tilting it from side to side. "Still have the energy to curse? Looks like you can get up on your own then."
A wicked smile touched the corner of his lips as he stood up and turned to leave.
Sophie’s heart lurched, and panic set in. "Hey!"
The man paid no heed. She quickly reached out, grabbing his trouser leg, her voice weakening. "Carry me up..."
"Who are you talking to?"
Sophie’s small face was etched with misery. "Young Master! Young Master Shannon!"
Only then did Thomas Shannon turn around. He reluctantly bent down, picked her up, and carried her out of the bath chamber.
Lying on the sofa, Sophie’s face was contorted in pain. Thomas Shannon placed a hand on her back, pressing gently up and down. "Where does it hurt?"
He pinched the soft flesh at her waistline, his handsome face darkening. "Speak properly! Where exactly does it hurt?"
Sophie gritted her teeth indignantly. "My back. My back hurts."
Muttering a curse, Thomas Shannon pressed the intercom and called for a doctor. He also summoned a servant to clean the bath chamber.
Sophie shot him an irritated glare. Wouldn’t it have been simpler to have a servant clean it from the start? Did he really have to torment her?