Chapter 564


    Owen approached the table, his gaze pausing for a mere moment on James before giving a courteous


    nod and then sliding into the empty chair next to Mirabe, greeting her with a polite “Ma. Mirabe”


    James was momentarily frozen, his expression a snapshot of bewilderment.


    After finishing thest slice of fruit in her hand, Mirabe turned to Owen, wiped her hands with a


    napkin, and said thoughtfully, “I’ll take your pulse.”


    “Thank you,” Owen replied with a slight smile, the usual solemnity on his handsome face giving way to


    a more serene expression.


    He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a slender wrist, the veins as distinct as a road map, and ced it on


    the table, palm up.


    Mirabe’s hand settled on his pulse. For a moment, her face took on the rare focus of a healer.


    Secondster, she withdrew her fingers and spoke calmly, “You’re recovering well. Continue with the


    medication I prescribed for another week, then you can stop.”


    “Got it, thanks,” Owen said with a nod, aware that his condition had markedly improved. Whether it was


    a cebo effect or not, he certainly didn’t feel the agitation he had while taking Dane’s pills.


    “It’s nothing,” Mirabe said with a casual wave, only to notice James offering her a napkin. She


    nced at him, her look a silent question.


    James looked effortlesslyposed with a hint of nonchnce in his eyes. He simply said, “For your


    hands.”


    Mirabe still looked puzzled.


    Without another word, James ced the napkin in her hand that had just taken Owen’s pulse. The


    fleeting cool touch of his fingertips against her palm caused an almost imperceptible shiver through


    Mirabe’s hand.


    –


    This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    She cleared her throat, averted her gaze, and, lowering her head, used the napkin to wipe her fingers a


    concession to his gesture. James smiled slightly as he leaned backzily in his chair, stretching an arm


    across the back of Mirabe’s chair in a clear disy of territorial im. He was not looking at Owen,


    but the message was unmistakable.


    Witnessing this exchange, Owen’s face turned expressionless. It was just a pulse check; was there a


    need for such dramatics? Meanwhile, Asher had been paying close attention to the conversation


    between Mirabe and Owen. In fact, he had taken Owen’s pulse himself before Mirabe had arrived


    at the club.


    From the onset of Owen’s illness to his so–called recovery, Asher had not detected anything unusual in


    his pulse. If he hadn’t seen Owen’s physical transformation with his own eyes, he might not believe


    Owen was ever sick.


    Despite his skepticism about the medical skills of a young woman barely out of her teens, Asher had to


    admit that Owen’s recovery wa indeed thanks to her.


    Casting a nce at Mirabe, Asher wondered how she had diagnosed the condition from the pulse.


    Yet, although he was curious, he wasn’t about to ask. Unlike his father, he couldn’t bring himself to


    address a young girl as a mentor. It just felt inappropriate.


    Collecting his thoughts, Asher remembered something and shifted his chair closer to Owen. He then


    pulled a bottle from his pocket and, seemingly on purpose, handed it to Owen in front of Mirabe.


    Owen looked surprised as he took the bottle from Asher.