Chapter 144: Human Body Model

Chapter 144: Chapter 144: Human Body Model

Regency Gardens.

After a hot shower, Claire Kendall curled up on the sofa in a slip dress, sketching designs for OCHH’s new collection.

She planned to kick off the new collection with a line of casual menswear, but with the iPad propped on her lap, she couldn’t draw a single stroke.

Menswear?

It wasn’t her area of expertise. Her mind was a complete blank.

Miles Warren walked out of the bedroom. He had just showered, and the belt of his bathrobe was tied loosely around his waist.

As he toweled his wet hair, he asked, "Are you hungry? Want a late-night snack?"

Claire Kendall’s stylus paused in mid-air.

’He spends all day cooped up in a hospital, so how is his body even better than the models at my company?’

She narrowed her eyes, her toes curling involuntarily.

"Dr. Warren, it was pouring today, and I came to pick you up. Don’t you think you should thank me somehow?"

She rested her pale little feet on the coffee table, swinging them back and forth.

Miles Warren looked up at her. "Name your price."

She tilted her head, a sly grin on her face. "I’m sketching some casual menswear. I need an inspiration model."

"The naked kind."

Claire Kendall had just thrown that last part in for fun.

She expected him to refuse, but Miles Warren just smirked before reaching for the buttons on his bathrobe.

His long fingers moved unhurriedly. One button, then two... The collar parted, revealing the sharp lines of his collarbone.

Sitting on the sofa, Claire Kendall stopped swinging her feet. Her eyes were fixed on him, and her breath hitched.

’A doctor’s hands are supposed to be attractive. That makes sense.’

’But how does someone with such a sedentary job stay in such great shape?’

As he undid the third button, he deliberately slowed his movements.

"Okay, okay, that’s far enough," Claire Kendall said, her ears burning as she quickly raised a hand to stop him.

Miles Warren didn’t stop. Instead, he took a few steps closer.

"You do your drawing, I’ll do my undressing."

His presence washed over her. She instinctively pressed her stylus against his chest, feigning composure. "There should be some distance between the model and the artist!"

The bathrobe slid from his shoulders, revealing the firm, defined lines of his waist and abs.

She stared at the side of his waist, her throat a little dry.

’Those V-lines... He looks so powerful...’

’Ahem, his good looks are definitely distracting. I can’t focus on drawing anymore.’

The stylus drew a crooked arc across the screen.

"Your line is crooked," the man’s voice held a hint of amusement.

"The lighting is bad," she said stubbornly.

"Should I make the lights brighter, then? So you can see more clearly?"

"No need. And don’t talk. Just stand still." Claire Kendall tugged on the corner of his bathrobe.

’What a charmer,’ she thought. ’But I really am a sucker for this kind of thing.’

Miles Warren stood obediently, looking down. "You made me look fat."

"No, I didn’t!"

He pointed to his waistline. "This part. It’s half a centimeter too wide."

"Are you questioning my professional skills?" Claire Kendall flipped the iPad to face him, her expression full of indignation.

"When you’re modeling, how can you possibly keep your abs flexed one hundred percent of the time? The moment you relax a little, there’s naturally going to be a curve. It’s called realism!"

Miles Warren reached out and grabbed her wrist.

Claire Kendall froze. The iPad slipped from her hand, landing on the carpet with a soft thud.

He took her hand and pressed it firmly against his waist.

He leaned in, his lips almost grazing her ear. "Why don’t you measure it yourself? See if it’s the same as in your drawing."

Claire Kendall went completely still.

His body heat seeped into her palm, her fingers filled with the sensation of his skin—firm and warm.

"Miles Warren," she said, her voice hoarse, "you’re playing dirty."

Claire Kendall’s mind went fuzzy. She tossed her stylus aside, tilted her face up, and made a bold invitation. "I kind of want to eat you up."

The words had barely left her lips when a phone on the coffee table began to vibrate wildly.

Two large words flashed on the screen: "EMERGENCY CONSULT."

The man’s expression turned serious, and he immediately picked up the phone.

"Professor Warren, it’s an emergency. An eight-month-old baby girl, sudden high fever of unknown origin, consciousness is blurry. Dr. Lambert from pediatrics needs you for a consult right away."

"I’m on my way."

He hung up, grabbed his shirt from the sofa, and pulled it on. "I have to go to the hospital. You should get some sleep."

"I’ll drive you. Your leg hasn’t fully healed yet." Claire Kendall grabbed her car keys and beat him to the entryway.

The two of them left quickly. Claire Kendall drove fast, but her handling of the car was steady.

On the way, Miles Warren was constantly on the phone with the chief of pediatrics, reviewing the test results they’d sent over and discussing the baby’s condition.

His voice was heavy as he spoke into the phone. "A nephroblastoma. It’s been left for too long."

When they arrived at the hospital, the emergency building was brightly lit.

Miles Warren got out of the car. "The child is very young, and the situation is likely complicated. The surgery will be long, so you should go home first."

With that, he walked straight into the emergency surgery building.

Claire Kendall didn’t leave. She followed him to the area outside the operating rooms, but Miles Warren had already entered through the surgeons’ corridor.

The light in the long hallway was bleak, and the air was thick with the pungent smell of antiseptic.

The infant’s mother was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. She knelt right at the door to the operating room, her hands clasped together, and bowed again and again toward the closed doors.

"Dr. Warren is our last hope. My baby, you have to live."

"God, if you have to take a life, take mine. Don’t touch my daughter."

"I tried for this child from twenty-seven to thirty-five. I took so many hormone shots to keep the pregnancy... Why are you doing this to me, God..."

THUD. THUD. THUD.

The sound of her head hitting the floor echoed endlessly down the hallway.

Claire Kendall’s heart ached. She wanted to say something, but the words of comfort were stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t get a single one out.

The red light indicating a surgery in progress was on.

After a long while, the family fell quiet. They looked at Claire Kendall, and one of them asked, their voice thick with tears.

"Miss, are you...?"

"I’m... waiting for Dr. Warren."

"Are you his wife?"

Claire Kendall pressed her lips together and nodded.

The woman didn’t ask anything else, turning her head to stare at the closed doors once more.

For six whole hours, Claire Kendall would walk a few laps when she got tired of sitting, and stomp her feet when her legs went numb.

’It’s this agonizing just waiting out here,’ she thought. ’I can’t imagine what it’s like for the doctors inside, confronting the disease head-on.’

At two in the morning, the hallway was deserted and silent when the operating room doors finally opened.

Miles Warren walked out, still in his surgical scrubs. He had taken off his cap and mask, and his hair was slightly damp with sweat, his eyes bloodshot.

The family rushed forward, their voices trembling. "Doctor, our child... How is our child?"

Miles Warren reassured them, "We successfully removed the tumor without damaging any vital organs. The baby has been transferred to the ICU for observation. The next seventy-two hours are critical, but as long as there are no complications, the outlook is very optimistic."

"Rest assured," he added, "I’ll be monitoring her progress personally."

The family started to kneel again, but Miles Warren caught them and had a nurse take them to the ICU to handle the paperwork.

Once the family had gone, Claire Kendall hurried over to him.

"You were standing for so long. Does your leg hurt? What about your knee?"

Miles Warren was slightly taken aback to see her there, his brows furrowing unintentionally.

"I’m fine. Why are you still here?"

Claire Kendall looked away. "I was worried."

Something soft in Miles Warren’s heart stirred.

He didn’t say anything more, just turned and walked toward the ICU.

Inside the intensive care unit, the lights were dimmed. The green line of the heart monitor beeped steadily.

The baby girl lay quietly in her hospital bed, her body wrapped in white gauze. Her tiny hand rested outside the blanket, a pulse oximeter probe still attached to her fingertip.

The family stood outside, staring motionlessly at the tiny figure inside.

Miles Warren quietly gave the nurse some instructions for the baby’s care.

Claire Kendall stood behind him, measuring out a small distance between her thumb and index finger. "She’s so tiny. Just this big."

"Come on, let’s go home." Miles Warren took her hand and turned to leave.

Behind them, the nurse in charge of the baby girl’s care watched their retreating figures for a long time.