She called out word by word, her tone rising with a hint of playfulness.
Her bright eyes sparkled with a delicate, lively light, instantly dispelling the inexplicable restlessness in his heart.
Yet, for no reason, it reminded him of last night when he held her, the girl soft and pliant against him, fitting seamlessly. He could clearly feel her curves, and her lips were so close, the breath she exhaled entwining him, trying to pull him into the abyss of desire.
Such a scene, how could any man withstand it?
Yet, he endured it, resting his forehead against hers to calm himself down.
However, the young lady found him too hard, and her knee came up directly...
Feeling parched, Keane Lowell picked up the cup of tea on the table and took a sip, avoiding her gaze without a trace.
Forget it.
Since she doesn’t want to acknowledge the past or keep the promises, he would no longer pursue. They could start over, taking things slowly.
"As you wish," he replied.
"Then, President Lowell," Claire Prescott said with a smile.
President Lowell...
It sounded like something Assistant Cheney would say.
Keane Lowell’s deep eyes showed a hint of indulgence. In a black shirt and trousers, his gaze seemed to swallow everything, exuding an inexplicable sense of oppression.
In Claire Prescott’s eyes, there was still a hint of fear.
Afraid he’d bring up the past again, Claire decided to leave first.
"Thanks for taking care of me last night, President Lowell... I’m heading back to Sinclair Apothecary now."
"After breakfast downstairs, I’ll take you back."
"No need, I’ll go back myself. I didn’t return home last night, and I’m afraid my grandparents might be worried." Saying this, she picked up her phone and said goodbye: "I’ll be leaving now."
Keane Lowell’s eyes dimmed slightly, and he responded softly with a simple "Hmm."
However, as the young lady reached the door, she suddenly stopped at the entrance, turned back to look at him, and asked, "Is this outfit something you prepared for me?"
After a pause, he asked, "Don’t you like it?"
Claire choked a bit in her voice, "The underwear is a bit small."
With that, she turned and quickly closed the door.
The room fell into silence, and the man watched the closed door without a trace of emotion, his eyes as dark as ink, swirling with inexplicable emotions.
...
...
Fresh from leaving Keane Lowell’s room, Claire Prescott felt the air was hot.
She raised her hand to her face to cool herself down.
Regretting her boldness, thinking she shouldn’t have said that...
The more she thought about it, the more chaotic her heart became.
Just as she was trying to calm herself down, a figure emerged from a room ahead, and her steps suddenly halted.
The man, in a dark blue shirt, stood tall. He was equally startled to see her, then furrowed his thick brows into a line, striding towards her.
"Why are you here?" Finn Prescott looked at her with concern.
His gaze carefully scanned the exposed skin on her neck, before suddenly grabbing her wrist, rolling up her sleeve to check.
His series of actions bewildered her.
Claire shook off his hand, frowning, "What are you doing?"
"I..."
Finn was at a loss for words.
His sister had lived with the elders since childhood, and she would never usually step into a hotel.
Now, she didn’t return home and appeared in this hotel early in the morning, her face flushed, which made him speculate and worry if she was bullied or harassed by someone.
He withdrew his hand, his gaze instantly softened, observing her rosy cheeks, he explained, "I’m worried about you."
His words only earned him a cold look from her.
Without saying a word, his sister walked past him and headed towards the elevator.
Without a word, Finn followed.
Inside the elevator, he couldn’t help but worry aloud, "Didn’t come home last night?"
"Mind your own business."
Seeing her like a porcupine bristling with spikes, Finn could do nothing but silently look at her thin, frail figure.
As the elevator descended to the first floor, he hesitated, thought over and over again, but ultimately could not bring himself to speak.
He came to Kystral on a mission; after the project discussions, his father instructed him to bring his sister back to the Prescott Family.
Bringing it up now might only spark her rebellious spirit again.
To her, neither father nor brother were figures she wanted to see, but forever enemies.
Eventually, he watched her leave the hotel and get into a taxi.
The assistant quietly approached from behind, "Young President Prescott, was that your sister just now?"
"Check the hotel surveillance, why was my sister here?"
...
In the backyard of Sinclair Apothecary, two elderly people were absentmindedly having breakfast.
Septima Sterling put down her spoon, looking displeased, "I asked you to make porridge, but you made it into gruel, how can anyone drink this."
Elder Sinclair frowned, saying nothing, busied himself with his bun.
Their granddaughter hadn’t come home all night, and they only realized when they got up early, and endless calls went unanswered, naturally causing worry.
Septima sighed, muttering as she got up, "I’ll call Zara and see if she’s there."
Elder Sinclair reassured, "She’s stayed out more than once or twice, she’s grown up, has her own mind, we shouldn’t worry too much."
"In the past, at least her phone would connect, what if something happened this time?"
Mentioning an accident, Elder Sinclair couldn’t help but recall the recent request from a show program to have her appear.
"No way..." Muttering, Septima went inside to fetch her phone.
Just as she was about to make the call, she looked out the window and saw their cherished granddaughter returning, a sense of relief immediately washed over her.
Returning to the yard, she couldn’t help but scold her a little.
Claire Prescott had already thought of an excuse before coming home, naturally claiming she went over to Zara’s place, saying nothing further as she didn’t want them to worry.
"In the future, if you’re not home, keep your phone on, so we can get a hold of you," Elder Sinclair instructed.
"Okay," Claire agreed obediently.
...
After breakfast, returning to the clinic, she took out that black button, silently staring at it.
She distinctly remembered that she wasn’t drunk, every word she said to him in the car last night still lingered in her memory.
Afterwards, she fell asleep in the car and had a nightmare.
But why did she wake up in a hotel?
Where did this button come from?
It wasn’t from his shirt, nor did it look like a cufflink.
Besides these places, where else would there be buttons?
Before she could think further, her phone chimed with a WeChat notification.
Seeing it was a message from Aunt Maddie, her heart suddenly fluttered with excitement, and the thought of the button naturally slipped to the side.
Maddie: [Claire dear, have you had breakfast?]
Maddie: [After drinking the herbal medicine you prescribed, I’ve been feeling much better. Sleeping well, appetite improved, and more energetic than before, kiss.jpg]
Claire replied with a smile: [Getting ready for work～]
[Glad your health is fine, Aunt Maddie]
[Hug.jpg]
Maddie: [Hug.jpg]
Maddie: [Is the clinic usually busy?]
Like a conversation with an internet friend, Claire chatted with her for a while, then began her work of seeing patients.
...
In the afternoon.
Liam King, the producer, came back to her.
Having thought after last night’s affair, she and their program were over, unexpectedly, he brought the contract directly, inviting her to join the program in a flattering tone.
She wasn’t sure when she developed such a big ego, where after offending their investors, they acted as if nothing happened.
The offer was particularly tempting; during recording, she could leave at any dissatisfaction, with no penalty fees for breach of contract.
Claire was initially suspicious, pondering over it before concluding: "Is it Ethan Lancaster’s request?"
Liam nodded, "Mr. Lancaster thinks highly of you."
This was something to take with a grain of salt.
She wouldn’t believe it so easily.
There were clearly so many others to choose from, yet he seemed fixated on her. What exactly is his motive?