Secret Marriage, High-Profile Pampering!-Chapter 782 The Image of Being a Female Star

The floor of the hall is wooden, without carpeting.

But in the dead of winter, the wooden floor is extremely cold.

Ariella Sawyer just lay sleeping on the floor, still wearing the gown she wore to the ribbon-cutting ceremony today; the thin dress clung to the ground, but she didn’t seem to feel the cold.

Her dress only reached her knees, a pretty little black dress, sleeveless, strapless, and the fabric wasn’t very thick.

Ryan Walyon didn’t care whether she was cold or not; he was only curious to see how long she could hold out.

When Ariella Sawyer fell asleep, she appeared to be quite restful.

After she fell asleep, she even started to snore, very very quietly.

Still, she’s a female celebrity, and no matter how quietly she snores, it hurts her image.

At this moment, Ariella Sawyer’s head felt heavy, pounding as if it were about to explode.

She was never someone who paid much attention to her image, and she couldn’t care about it now, wearing the cocktail dress, her legs positioned in any which way.

Her carefree sleeping posture made Ryan Walyon want to straighten out the dress on her.

He really couldn’t stand it, grabbed a thin blanket from the sofa and tossed it over Ariella Sawyer, completely covering her up without leaving any room for ventilation.

Perhaps due to breathing difficulties, after sleeping for a bit, Ariella Sawyer randomly flung the blanket off herself and her head, dazedly, emerged from under it.

She lifted her face to look at Ryan Walyon standing beside her and hesitated, as if surprised she was still with him.

"Miss Sawyer, you’re already home now. I should be leaving." Ryan Walyon barely acknowledged her and started to stride towards the door.

Just as he stepped out, Ariella Sawyer’s hand swung randomly and ended up right in front of Ryan Walyon.

She only wanted to find a more comfortable sleeping position, used to being casual at home, sleeping however she liked, not expecting her arm to swing so far.

Caught off guard, Ryan Walyon was tripped by her, and fell with a thud to the ground.

The room’s atmosphere froze.

It seemed as if the world instantly fell silent.

Ryan Walyon probably hadn’t tripped many times in his life, lying on the floor in a humiliating pose.

His expression was grim, taking deep breaths several times, his eyes fiercely sweeping towards the woman beside him.

Ariella Sawyer seemed to have been stepped on by him, ignoring his gaze, muttering incoherently.

She cried out rather pitifully, kept shaking her hand, and climbed up from the ground, blowing on her wrist repeatedly.

Ryan Walyon watched her silently, his eyes like he was looking at an idiot.

How old is she?

Does she think she’s a kid?

Does blowing on it stop the pain?

Ryan Walyon, at six feet two inches tall, didn’t step lightly.

Ariella Sawyer’s wrist was as red as a pig’s trotter, swollen all over.

Even so, it seemed she hadn’t sobered up from her drunkenness, sitting on the floor, constantly rubbing her hand, her eyes still hazy.

Ryan Walyon watched her for a while before squatting down in front of her, lifting her hand to inspect it.

Gazing at the bruised area, he furrowed his brow.

"Wait a moment." With these words, Ryan Walyon went out for a while.

When he returned fifteen minutes later, Ariella Sawyer was still sitting on the floor, genuinely waiting for him.

She looked very well-behaved, like a child, her eyes even showing seriousness.

Ryan Walyon squatted down in front of her, said nothing, and took her hand to apply the purchased medication.

Ariella Sawyer’s drunken behavior was fairly decent; she didn’t go crazy or make a fuss when drunk.

Whatever he wanted to do, she let him do.