Chapter 168: Chapter 168: A Very Convenient Allergy

Chapter 168: A Very Convenient Allergy

Of course, repair work was repair work, but breakfast still came first.

When it came to food, Elias never shortchanged himself.

Naomi sat across from him and watched him finish breakfast without saying a word. She had already embarrassed herself once with that little doglike urge to please him. She was not going to do it twice.

Whether Elias thought the food was good or not was his problem. She had cooked. That was enough.

Elias enjoyed the meal properly, then picked up a napkin and wiped the oil from his lips. The mood Naomi had nearly ruined for him recovered by a solid amount.

Her cooking was genuinely decent.

If he had free time later, he could come here again and steal a few meals.

Once his mouth was clean, Elias curved his eyes at her. "Thank you. It was really good."

"Was it?" Naomi’s calm mouth lifted before she caught herself. The curve vanished almost immediately, replaced by a tone that tried too hard to sound casual. "It was fine. Nothing special."

Elias rolled his eyes.

He praised her once, and she already wanted to float.

"Thanks for having me."

Naomi heard the problem in that sentence at once. Her brows drew together. "Wait. You’re leaving already?"

Elias glanced at her.

What, did she think everyone was like her? A rich heiress with nothing better to do than drift around, make trouble, and be useless with confidence?

Since she had made him a decent breakfast, Elias swallowed that line and only nodded. "I have class."

Naomi waved a hand like that settled nothing. "Skip. I’ll take you out. Hey, hey, where are you going?"

Elias took the handle of his suitcase and headed straight for the entry.

Please.

After the mess Naomi had caused, the fact that he had praised her at all was already proof of his generosity. The fact that he had not punished her was mercy on a heavenly scale. And now she wanted to take him out for fun?

What, so she could parade him in front of her party friends and feel important?

Elias knew exactly what kind of thoughts Naomi was hiding.

He left without hesitation.

Goodbye. Enjoy your own breakfast.

The elevator was right outside the door. Elias stood there waiting when Naomi followed him out and leaned against the doorframe. Her expression shifted as she watched him.

"You’re not going to class, are you?" she said. "You’re going to see Dr. Quinn."

Elias looked at her flatly.

Naomi understood instantly. That face was basically a confession.

She laughed under her breath. "You really do have a death wish. Serena Blackwood, Liora Voss, Giselle Frost, and that still isn’t enough for you? You’re not even planning to leave Dr. Quinn alone?"

Elias gave her a faint side-eye.

If you already know, why say it out loud? Congratulations on having a working brain.

"What is that look?" Naomi widened her eyes a little, though she did not look offended. Her smile only deepened. "Now that I think about it, your taste is actually terrifying. Even the ones who aren’t untouchable yet are going to be the kind of women who can make a whole room stop talking later."

"Thank you," Elias said.

Naomi paused. "That wasn’t exactly praise."

"I know. I accepted your review."

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed, half amused and half helpless. "Have you ever considered that stepping across this many boats at once means you’re going to fall into the water one day?"

Elias finally turned his head toward her.

Then he smiled, light and clean and so confident it was almost offensive. "That’s fine. I’ll coordinate the relationships between them."

The elevator chimed.

The doors slid open.

Naomi froze.

Elias pushed his suitcase toward her. "Keep this here for now. I’ll come back for it."

Then he stepped into the elevator.

Naomi stayed at her doorway with one hand on the suitcase handle, replaying what he had just said.

Coordinate.

The relationships between them.

In other words, even if everything blew up, he did not think he would be the one destroyed. He thought the women would fight each other over him.

What kind of confidence was that?

No, what kind of arrogance was that?

He was so brazen he could imagine his own cheating exposed and still assume his charm would smother the fire before it reached him.

Interesting.

Really, painfully interesting.

Downstairs, Elias reached Yvonne’s door and stopped.

He smoothed his clothes, adjusted his expression, and lifted a hand.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three clean taps.

The door opened quickly.

Even though he had just seen Yvonne earlier, the sight of her still stole half a beat from him.

Maybe it was because she had only been upstairs to handle a practical problem before. She had looked composed then, ready to speak to a neighbor. Now that she was back inside her own space, she had softened into something lazier and more private.

Her dark hair fell loose, with a few strands caught beside the gold rims of her glasses. Her eyes looked as if they had not fully decided whether to wake up. When she looked at him, the faint sleepiness did nothing to make her safer. It made her gaze feel deeper, as if it could pull a person in and close over their head.

Elias looked one second too long.

Then he switched into performance.

His face brightened with surprise. "Dr. Quinn, you really do live downstairs from Ms. Vale."

Yvonne did not smile.

That was different from the hospital. At Longhaven, her professional smile had been gentle enough to make people lower their guard. Here, without the white coat and the clinic walls, she no longer bothered with that layer. Her natural expression leaned colder, quieter, and much harder to read.

"I thought you already knew that," she said.

Elias did not let her coolness touch him. He stuck out his tongue a little and scratched the back of his head, playing the harmless, slightly embarrassed student to perfection. "I thought maybe I imagined it, so I came down to check."

Yvonne gave no answer to that.

She only opened the door wider.

No verbal invitation, but the meaning was clear.

Elias walked in naturally, which saved him the trouble of inventing another excuse.

The layout matched Naomi’s place upstairs, but the atmosphere could not have been more different. Naomi’s apartment had the careless ease of someone who treated money, sleep, and visitors like entertainment. Yvonne’s place was clean enough to feel intentional. Everything was arranged, wiped down, and controlled. Not a home, exactly. More like a second office that had learned how to wear a living-room costume.

It suited her.

Restrained, precise, and cold enough to make a person wonder what would happen if something was placed one inch out of line.

Elias finished looking and gave a bright little gasp. "Your place is so pretty, Dr. Quinn."

[System Theta: ...That was so fake.]

For normal Elias, yes.

For the version of Elias that existed in front of Yvonne, there was no problem at all.

A sunny college boy’s praise should be direct, simple, and a little clumsy.

Yvonne went to the kitchen. A moment later, she returned with a glass of water and set it on the table. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"Sit down," she said.

Elias looked at the glass.

Then he looked at Yvonne.

This water was not the stuff that had leaked down from Naomi’s apartment, right?

As if she saw the thought pass through his face, Yvonne said, "There’s a filtered dispenser in the kitchen."

Elias’s heart gave a tiny jump.

On the outside, he sat down on the sofa with a bright smile. "Thank you, Dr. Quinn."

He did not drink.

Please.

If he drank something Yvonne handed him, there was a nonzero chance he would open his eyes later in a locked room with restraints on his wrists and a clinical light over his face.

For his own safety, he decided not to touch any food or drink Yvonne gave him.

Yvonne seemed not to notice the detail.

She sat on the sofa as well, not too close, not too far. Then she looked at him.

She did not speak.

She simply watched.

Elias had been stared at by CEOs, actresses, spoiled rich women, bodyguards, predators, patients, and people who thought they were in love. Yvonne’s gaze was different. It did not grab. It measured. It made him feel less like a guest on a couch and more like a chart she had not yet decided how to label.

Even Elias started to feel faintly uneasy.

After thinking for a few seconds, he lifted his chin a little and hooked one slim finger under his collar.

He tugged the fabric aside.

The pale skin of his neck came into view, marked with shallow red traces that looked far too obvious under the morning light.

His expression stayed pure and innocent, as if he had no idea what those marks could mean.

"Dr. Quinn," he said softly, "my neck is really itchy. Could you take a look and tell me what’s wrong?"