The bodies of Kseniya and the six Grandmasters were carried out of the room.
They were dragged into the elevator like dead dogs.
Trusova felt an unprecedented sense of relief.
Kseniya, who had been furiously shouting just moments before, was now a corpse, no longer a source of trouble.
Orion and his associates left, and three thousand of their followers dispersed from the front of the Cherry Blossom Inn like a receding tide.
“It’s almost dawn; you should go back and rest. We’ll come back at noon,” Flynn said, checking the time. It was already past five in the morning.
Rose, who had not slept for a day and a night, now had dark circles under her eyes.
Ladugin nodded politely and turned to his two subordinates: “Help Miss Trusova downstairs.”
The two subordinates quickly stepped forward to assist Trusova towards the elevator.
“Let me escort you and your wife,” Ladugin said, stepping aside and bowing slightly.
“Wife?” Rose was taken aback, not understanding what he meant.
Ladugin hesitated, puzzled, “Aren’t you Mr. Clark’s girlfriend?”
Flynn scoffed and shook his head:
“What are you looking at? With her temperament, who would dare to be her man!”
“I’d rather stay single than marry her.”
Hearing this, Rose glared fiercely at Flynn and strode towards the elevator.
“Oh, I misunderstood,” Ladugin said, somewhat dazed, forced to smile awkwardly, though he was inwardly puzzled.
She wasn’t his woman, so why would he go to such lengths to help her?
Five hundred billion dollars.
Not just anyone was worth Mr. Clark’s concern.
After learning of Flynn’s identity, Ladugin had been observing his interactions with Rose.
Their relationship was quite special.
Especially Rose, who spoke to Flynn too casually, not treating him like a boss at all.
And this casualness even had a childish streak.
In general, whenever Rose spoke with Flynn, her body language was particularly expressive and her demeanor varied.
This kind of behavior usually only occurs between couples, so Ladugin assumed Rose was Flynn’s woman.
But it turned out he was mistaken, causing a bit of a farce.
At the parking lot in front of the building.
Rose helped Trusova into the car and said to Flynn:
“Sasha has internal injuries; taking her to the hospital might require a cast, and it could be at least half a year before she recovers.”
“If you have a better way, please help her.”
Flynn waved his hand dismissively:
“You don’t need to worry about her. Just go back and get some sleep. We still have to discuss partnerships and sign contracts at noon.”
“You’re taking her back yourself?” Rose asked.
Flynn frowned, visibly impatient: “Or do you want to take her, and I’ll go back to sleep?”
“Just go back to sleep. You’re always worrying about this and that. I won’t be surprised if you drop dead from exhaustion one day.”
Rose was stunned, taken aback by Flynn’s harsh words. She was just showing concern, and he was unappreciative!
Fine! I’m leaving!
The BMW X5 emitted a puff of black smoke and roared away.
“Mr. Clark, I’m sorry to trouble you again,” Trusova said, somewhat embarrassed by their bickering.
Flynn started the car and waved his hand: “I’m not bothered by you, just annoyed that Rose won’t listen.”
“She should just go back and get some sleep instead of asking all these questions.”
“It’s like she thinks I can’t manage to take you back myself, always worrying over nothing!”
Trusova shook her head: “Mr. Clark, you misunderstand Ms. Sharp.”
“She asked those questions because she was worried you were too tired and wanted to help take me home, to give you a hand.”
“This will save a lot of time.”
Flynn was taken aback, somewhat in disbelief, “Is that what she meant?”
“Definitely not!”
“I know her best, she only uses me like a workhorse, how could she possibly care about anyone?”
Trusova just smiled slightly, not saying a word.
Flynn and Rose were quite interesting.
They cared about each other, yet neither knew it.
The reason lay in their conversations; they couldn’t exchange a few words without bickering, like adversaries.
Flynn no longer thought about these things, focusing instead on Trusova’s injuries.
Her toenails had been pulled out, her face was swollen, and her eyes were slightly red.
These were minor issues.
The real problems were the fractures in her right leg and scapula, and the internal bruising-these required a continuous medicinal bath for three days.
Then, the remains of the medicine would wrap around the fracture site, allowing for recovery in about ten days.
Flynn went to a 24-hour pharmacy to buy the medicine, then drove to Trusova’s house.
He carried Trusova upstairs, placed her on the sofa, and began to boil water for the medicine.
He worked until eight in the morning, filled the bathtub with water, and poured in the medicinal mixture.
“Alright, take off your clothes and soak in there for an hour to reduce the bruising and pain,” Flynn said after testing the water temperature, then went to the living room.
Trusova said somewhat awkwardly, “I can’t use my arm to take off my clothes, Mr. Clark, could you help me?”
Flynn paused for a moment.
Then he remembered her shoulder was injured.
“Darn, I should have asked Rose to come along,” Flynn muttered to himself.
But it was too late for that now.
Flynn helped her out of her clothes.
Her skin was pale, covered in bruises.
Her once beautiful body was battered by Sordoff and others.
Flynn sighed, lifted Trusova into the bathtub.
After finishing this task, he made two bowls of soy milk and fried a few eggs.
He ate quickly, leaving some for Trusova, and the time was now nine o’clock.
He hadn’t slept for 24 hours.
Even though Flynn was energetic, staying up so long was tiring.
“Mr. Clark, it’s been an hour, can I get out now?” Trusova called from the bathroom.
Flynn finished his soy milk, got up, and went to the bathroom.
Trusova had heavy dark circles under her eyes, clearly tired.
There were some dried blood stains on her chest that the water hadn’t removed.
Flynn, always eager to help, spread a bath towel on the sofa and carried Trusova to it.
He wet a towel and began to wipe her down.
As he scrubbed, her breasts trembled and bounced, creating a visual spectacle.
Through the towel, Flynn could feel their softness.
He couldn’t help but swallow his saliva.
As he finished wiping her upper body clean, the towel reached behind her waist, impacting Flynn greatly.
Finally, with Flynn’s careful wiping, Trusova’s body was clean.
“Mr. Clark, your technique is really good, it doesn’t hurt even when you touch the injured spots,” Trusova thanked him with a smile.
Flynn coughed, touching his nose:
“I’ll carry you to bed to rest, Ms. Sharp will send someone today to take care of you.”
He was about to lift her in a princess carry.
Trusova’s face turned red, she bit her lip and said:
“Mr. Clark, my underwear and bra are wet, the new ones are in the bedroom closet, could you help me change them?”