Chapter 8: The Motorcycle man

Chapter 8: The Motorcycle man

"No - !" Prisley gasped, Heather seemed so unfamiliar, so out of control, so far from the wise and calm man she knew.

She was pinned against the desk, the door unlocked. It was the weekend, but what if someone came in? Prisley couldn't bear to think any more.

"Stop it, Heather, please," she begged tearfully, but Heather's icy demeanor remained as he continued unbuttoning her.

Desperation and humiliation washed over Prisley. She closed her eyes tightly, gathered every ounce of energy she could, and seized the opportunity when Heather least expected it.

She pushed him away and slapped him hard across the face. There was a resounding thud and Heather froze, the chill emanating from him increasing in intensity.

Taking advantage of his shock, Prisley slipped out from under him and rushed toward the door.

She ran out into the hallway, disoriented and frantic, her clothes disheveled, her hair wild.

She was terrified, tears streaming uncontrollably from her eyes.

Suddenly, someone rounded the corner and almost collided with Prisley.

"Prisley? Are you still working today? I came to pick up something at the office." It was Steve, grinning broadly.

Ever since he had attended that business event with Prisley, Steve had felt a sense of familiarity with her.

Prisley didn't even acknowledge him as she rushed out of the door. Looking puzzled, Steve walked towards the office area, where he spotted Heather coming out of Prisley's office.

"Heather! It's really you!" Steve greeted him, patting him on the shoulder.

Heather turned to him indifferently, a red handprint visible on his left cheek.

Steve chuckled, "What happened between you two? I saw Prisley run out crying."

"It's none of your business," Heather replied coldly, striding towards his own office.

Steve followed, wanting to make it clear, "Did you do something to her? Prisley’s so nice, you shouldn't be so hard on her."

Heather stopped and turned around, "She wanted to quit. I gave her plenty of chances to stay."

"Just an assistant, I can get a new one from HR tomorrow."

For him, the things he wanted were always within reach, nothing worth fussing over.

How dare she treat him like this? Heather splashed cold water on his face and stared at the red mark on his face in the mirror. He, a dignified CEO of a large corporation, actually got slapped in the face? The thought made him furious. He gritted his teeth.

Prisley wiped away her tears, walking numbly down the street. There weren't many pedestrians on this early weekend morning. Despite the warm spring sunlight, she still felt cold.

Heather's sudden transformation into a demon had frightened her. In the four years they’d working together, she had never seen him like this, acting like he'd lost his mind.

Even though she was far from the office now, she couldn't stop shaking all over.

As she was about to cross the street, the roar of a heavy motorcycle engine grew louder, approaching rapidly. Before she could look up, the motorcycle was right in front of her.

Prisley instinctively stepped back, but the front of the motorcycle grazed her. Dressed in a long, loose skirt, she was tossed into the air, like a delicate daisy caught in the wind.

The motorcycle screeched to a stop nearly ten meters away, and the rider, removing his helmet, dashed toward her, his expression tense.

Prisley lay on the ground, her face pale, struggling to get up.

"Don't move! Lie down, I'll call an ambulance right away," the rider said, kneeling beside her and gently pressing her shoulder to keep her from getting up, then dialing for help.

"I'm terribly sorry, I was distracted just now." The rider apologized sincerely.

Prisley couldn't find the words, her eyes wide, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. She hadn't lost consciousness, but her body felt out of control. She gasped for breath, unsure if it was from fear or pain.

The ambulance arrived quickly and rushed Prisley to the hospital. She lay on the gurney, being thoroughly examined by the medical staff, slowly coming to her senses after what seemed like an eternity.

Looking at the logos on the walls and equipment, she realized she was in the East Woods Medical Center, the most prestigious private hospital in the city.

"Are you feeling any better?" the motorcycle rider asked softly, standing nearby with a gentle gaze.

He was tall, dressed in leather motorcycle gear and jeans, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, with warm, light blue eyes that held a hint of a smile, undeniably charming.

Prisley felt uncomfortable. "This hospital must be expensive..."

He smiled faintly. "Don't worry about that. I already feel guilty enough about hitting you. I just hope you're not badly injured."

Prisley nodded nervously and awkwardly, burying half of her face in the blanket. Her body ached all over, she was uncertain of her injuries, and she still felt tense.

Combined with the unpleasant encounter with Heather earlier, Prisley tried hard to muster a smile, but it just wouldn't come.

"I'm Mark Grant. Add me to your list when you feel comfortable. I'll take full responsibility for your injuries," Mark said.

"Prisley Anderson," She murmured, pulling herself up slightly.

Mark gestured for her to lie back down. Just then, another man entered carrying several shopping bags. He whispered to Mark and handed him the bags.

"Sorry about staining your skirt. I had someone buy a similar style. I hope you don't mind the slight difference," Mark said, looking at Prisley with a gentle smile, like the warmth of the winter sun.

Prisley looked at the logo on the bags, realizing that the clothes were from a brand much more expensive than what she was wearing - maybe ten times the price or more.

She managed to sit up a little and said, "thank you," but couldn't hide the panic in her eyes.

"Scared, huh?" Mark pulled up a chair and sat beside her, like an old friend. 

Prisley nodded.

"Sorry, I was driving too fast. I apologize again," Mark said with a smile. His tall frame made the chair appear mismatched, with his long legs stretching out far.

A nurse knocked and entered. "Mr. Grant, the test results are in. This lady is lucky, no major injuries, just soft tissue bruising. A few days of rest and some topical ointments should do the trick."

"Also there's a test result regarding privacy. I need to speak with this lady alone."

"Don't worry, I'll wait for you outside," Mark said, leaving the room.

The nurse handed Prisley a report. "Miss, you're currently five weeks pregnant. Your progesterone levels are low, indicating an imminent miscarriage."

"I'll take you to see the doctor shortly."

Prisley felt as if she'd been struck by lightning. She stared at the report in disbelief. Five weeks pregnant? How was that possible?!