By evening, Purvi’s hand hurt far more than she had admitted.
The redness had spread across her wrist and the back of her hand, and several small blisters had appeared.
But whenever anyone asked about it, she smiled.
“I’m fine.”
It had become her favorite lie.
Lucia had noticed.
So had Isabella.
And unfortunately for Purvi, Vincenzo had noticed too.
He had watched her throughout dinner.
She struggled to hold her spoon properly.
She winced whenever her injured hand touched the table.
And when Isabella asked her to pass something, Purvi quietly used her other hand.
Vincenzo said nothing.
But he noticed everything.
After dinner, Purvi went upstairs.
She changed into a loose nightdress and sat on the edge of the bed.
The moment she was alone, her smile disappeared.
She carefully removed the temporary dressing around her wrist.
Pain shot through her hand.
She sucked in a breath.
“Ow…”
She stared at the burn.
It looked worse than it had that morning.
She reached for the medical supplies the doctor had left.
Before she could begin, the bedroom door opened.
Vincenzo walked inside.
Purvi immediately pulled her hand behind her back.
He stopped.
“What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“Purvi.”
She smiled.
“It’s just my hand.”
“Show me.”
“I’m handling it.”
“Show me.”
His voice left no room for argument.
Purvi sighed.
Slowly, she brought her hand forward.
Vincenzo’s expression changed immediately.
“What happened?”
“You already know.”
“This is worse.”
Purvi shrugged.
“It’ll heal.”
He walked toward her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want everyone worrying.”
“Everyone?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Or me?”
Purvi didn’t answer.
Vincenzo took the medical supplies from the table.
“Give me your hand.”
“I can do it.”
“I know.”
He looked at her.
“I’m doing it.”
Purvi hesitated.
Then she placed her hand in his.
Vincenzo sat beside her.
His enormous fingers carefully supported her wrist.
The contrast was almost ridiculous.
His hand could practically cover hers completely.
He began cleaning the burn.
The moment the antiseptic touched her skin, Purvi flinched.
Vincenzo immediately stopped.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Don’t lie.”
Purvi smiled weakly.
“It stings.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She looked away.
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
He continued more carefully.
Every movement was slow.
Gentle.
Nothing like the rough, impatient Vincenzo she knew.
Purvi watched him silently.
“You know…”
“What?”
“You’re surprisingly good at this.”
“I’ve treated injuries before.”
“Of course you have.”
He glanced at her.
“Why does that sound sarcastic?”
“Because you’re a mafia boss.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
She smiled.
He shook his head.
Then he carefully applied the ointment.
Purvi suddenly flinched again.
Vincenzo immediately lifted his eyes.
“Sorry.”
She blinked.
She hadn’t expected that.
“You apologized.”
“I hurt you.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“I know.”
He returned his attention to her hand.
But this time, he worked even more carefully.
When he finished applying the ointment, he began wrapping the bandage around her wrist.
Purvi watched him.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
Vincenzo didn’t answer.
He simply finished securing the bandage.
Purvi looked at it.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then she accidentally moved her wrist.
Pain shot through it again.
She immediately hissed.
Vincenzo’s eyes snapped toward her.
“Don’t move.”
“I’m fine.”
“Stop saying that.”
She smiled.
“You really hate that sentence.”
“Because you use it when you’re obviously not fine.”
Purvi lowered her eyes.
Vincenzo looked at the burn again.
He noticed how tense she was.
“Does it still hurt?”
“A little.”
“How much?”
She hesitated.
“A lot.”
He sighed.
Then, without thinking, he lifted her injured hand slightly and gently blew cool air over the bandaged area.
Purvi froze.
Her eyes widened.
Vincenzo continued blowing softly.
The pain seemed to ease slightly.
She stared at him.
He didn’t seem to realize how intimate the gesture looked.
His brows were slightly furrowed in concentration.
He blew on the wound again.
Purvi’s heart began beating faster.
“Vincenzo.”
“Hm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Cooling it.”
She almost laughed.
“I know that.”
“Then why ask?”
Purvi smiled.
“Nothing.”
He looked at her.
“Better?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He continued for another few seconds.
Then he stopped.
Their eyes met.
The room suddenly felt very quiet.
Purvi slowly pulled her hand back.
“Thank you.”
Vincenzo looked away.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
He stood.
Then paused.
“Tomorrow you’re not going into the kitchen.”
Purvi frowned.
“Why?”
“Because your hand needs to heal.”
“I can still cook with one hand.”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
She folded her arms.
“You can’t order me around.”
“I can.”
“You really enjoy that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
She rolled her eyes.
Vincenzo walked toward the door.
“Sleep.”
Purvi smiled.
“Goodnight.”
He stopped.
Then looked back.
“Goodnight.”
He opened the door.
“Vincenzo?”
He turned.
“Thank you.”
His eyes softened for barely a second.
Then the familiar coldness returned.
“Get some sleep.”
The door closed.
Purvi looked down at her bandaged hand.
For some reason, she smiled.
Vincenzo returned to his study.
He sat behind his desk.
But he couldn’t concentrate.
His eyes kept drifting toward his hand.
He could still feel Purvi’s tiny wrist beneath his fingers.
He remembered the way she had flinched.
The way she had tried to hide her pain.
And the way she had smiled anyway.
His jaw tightened.
The burn was his fault.
He had knocked the cup.
She had reacted quickly because she was worried about him.
And she had been the one who got hurt.
He leaned back.
For once, there was nobody else to blame.
He had hurt her.
Not intentionally.
But he had.
His eyes closed.
Then a thought came.
Until the contract ends…
She had said that morning.
He opened his eyes.
He didn’t understand why those words suddenly bothered him so much.
The contract would end eventually.
Purvi would leave.
And maybe that was why he had started noticing every little thing about her.
Maybe that was why seeing her hurt bothered him.
Maybe that was why he’d sat beside her tonight and dressed her wound himself.
He shook his head.
“No.”
He refused to give the feeling a name.
It was simply responsibility.
Nothing more.
At least…
That was what he told himself.
Upstairs, Purvi carefully settled beneath the blankets.
Her hand still hurt.
But somehow, the pain felt easier to bear.
Because tonight, the coldest man she had ever known had sat beside her, dressed her wound, and gently blown on it until it hurt a little less.
And she couldn’t stop wondering why.