"Mr. Hawthorne!"
In a moment of desperation, Zoe Lancaster turned her head away. Simon Hawthorne’s cool lips grazed her neck. His breath brushed against her skin, sending a bone-deep tingle through her that made her tremble uncontrollably.
Her delicate body was like a tender, budding flower. Whether from arousal or panic, her shoulders hitched as she shivered. It was a sight that would awaken a dark, destructive urge in anyone who saw her, a desire to crush her ruthlessly, fiercely—
Simon stopped.
His gaze was unspeakably cold and distant, as if nothing in this world could stir the slightest emotion in him. "What? You’re not willing?"
The question held a hidden edge. One careless move, and the current illusion would be torn to shreds. Zoe felt as if she had been backed to the edge of a cliff, teetering on the brink of a fall that would shatter her beyond redemption.
She took a deep breath. The faint, unique scent of cedarwood radiating from him was intoxicating, yet it sent a chill down her spine. "Should we... have some wine?"
Zoe could only resort to a roundabout tactic.
Simon narrowed his eyes, stroking her slender neck. "Do you need liquid courage to loosen up?"
For some reason, Zoe found those words inexplicably uncomfortable to hear. They seemed to carry a deeper meaning, but perhaps she was just overthinking.
"Can we?" she asked, looking at him with dewy eyes. She figured the worst that could happen was getting Simon drunk today, as a drunkard couldn’t remember anything anyway.
Simon didn’t answer. But he didn’t release his grip on her either. The pad of his thumb continued to rub against the plush tubercle of her upper lip, sending jolts of electricity through her. Her body melted into a puddle of soft spring water, though she forced herself to suppress the restless stirrings.
Just as Zoe thought Simon wouldn’t indulge her and was about to turn hostile, his phone rang.
Her tense nerves instantly relaxed.
Simon pulled his phone from his pocket and answered it, his voice cool and clear. "What’s wrong?"
He leaned lazily beside her. Because the phone was so close, Zoe inevitably heard the female voice coming from the receiver. "Simon, I... Could you come see me?"
The voice was soft, sweet, and laced with grievance. It sounded as if she had run into some trouble—a tone that would inevitably evoke pity in any man who heard it.
Simon cast a faint glance at Zoe. "Where are you?"
Zoe knew then that Simon had no intention of wasting any more time with her. How could a neglected wife like her ever compare to the weight his cherished first love held in his heart?
Even so, Zoe couldn’t suppress the sourness rising in her throat. It stung her lungs, leaving them cold and numb, and for a fleeting moment, she almost lost control of her expression. She had genuinely loved Simon for four years. Even though she saw the current situation clearly, she still couldn’t completely let go and accept it.
Lowering her eyelids, she swallowed her desolate sorrow.
After a brief pause, Stella Joyce answered in a soft, coaxing voice, "The BGL Hotel."
"Got it," Simon replied in a low voice. The hand resting on Zoe slowly pulled away, his fingertips inadvertently brushing against her waist.
"MMM..."
The call hadn’t been disconnected yet. A seductive, bewitching moan escaped Zoe’s throat, enough to make anyone’s blood boil. Simon paused imperceptibly. A second later, Zoe met his deep, obscure gaze, and her eyes shrank back in a mix of shyness and flustered panic.
She offered an innocent, pitiful explanation: "It tickles..."
However, those two consecutive sounds carried an explosive amount of information to anyone listening on the other end of the line. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine that some steamy, passionate scene was taking place.
An eerie silence fell over the phone. Simon, however, simply hung up.
Zoe felt a strong sense of giving herself away by protesting too much. "My waist is rather sensitive. Forgive me."
But she couldn’t deny it. In that split second, she had done it on purpose.
Just as Crystal Hayes had said, there was no way Stella didn’t know Simon was married. Her repeated, passive-aggressive displays of affection were meant for Zoe to see. When push came to shove, she hadn’t even managed to sleep with her own husband—was Zoe not allowed to strike back?
As for that moan, how Stella chose to interpret it was her own problem.
How could Simon not see through Zoe’s little trick despite her explanation? He didn’t know her well, but from their three encounters since his return to the country, he knew she was far from innocent. She was full of schemes and calculations.
A faint hint of mockery surfaced in the depths of his eyes. He was in no rush to tear away Mrs. Hawthorne’s disguise.
Standing up gracefully, he looked down at her from above. Taking the only few bills left in his wallet, he tossed them onto the bed. His tone was distant, aloof, and unattainably noble. "Here is five hundred dollars. Spend it on some adult videos and learn how to moan properly. Your technique is atrocious."
Zoe was stunned for a moment.
She sat up and picked up the bills. Staring in the direction Simon had left, both ashamed and furious, she listened to the sound of an engine starting downstairs. It was exceptionally clear in the quiet night. She had always known he wasn’t an easy person to get along with. His words were always laced with poison. From his past comment about "relieving lust" to today’s "learn how to moan properly," every word was utterly merciless, stripping away all her dignity.
But... Zoe frowned, staring at the five hundred-dollar bills in her hand.
She wondered if his wallet just happened to have exactly five hundred dollars in cash, and what he meant by her technique being atrocious. Did they share the same brain or something?
The next day, Monday.
The temperature in Kingsford plummeted. Zoe had only gotten her driver’s license two months ago, so she drove rather bumpily all the way. She arrived at the company just in time to clock in. She had barely reached her cubicle and hadn’t even warmed her seat yet when Chloe Carter, the Director of the Public Relations Department, walked over and knocked on her desk. "Come with me to the CEO’s office at headquarters."
"The CEO’s office?" Zoe was taken aback for a moment. Her company was the PR branch under the Hawthorne Group, gathering the country’s top public relations talents to maintain the corporate image, handle all crisis PR, and act as a shield for the Hawthorne Group.
Most ordinary companies chose to outsource their PR teams, but the Hawthorne Group was wealthy and imposing enough to fund an entire internal PR department. They managed the core business operations under the conglomerate, which included, but were not limited to, real estate, banking, oil, manufacturing, and entertainment.
As she followed Director Carter quickly downstairs, the older woman replied, "There must be some unexpected emergency."
"And you want me to come along?" Zoe asked, slightly puzzled.
It wasn’t her fault for being confused. The only reason she had managed to enter such an elite team was because of the "reward" the Hawthorne Family gave her after she registered her marriage with Simon. She had been parachuted directly into the role of PR Supervisor. Although it sounded like a good position, she actually had the title but no real power. Many of the serious, major projects never even passed through her hands.
She knew it well. This was the Hawthorne Family’s intention. It was a way to keep her in check. If she wasn’t "obedient," the Hawthorne Family could take back everything they had given her at a moment’s notice. She truly was just meat on the chopping block.
This time, Director Carter gave Zoe a meaningful look, one that felt indescribably strange. "That’s right. Secretary Linden from the CEO’s office specifically asked for you."
Zoe instantly shut her mouth, feigning a look of bewildered ignorance.
After all, her marriage to Simon was a secret. No one in the company knew about it; they only knew she was a parachute hire with powerful backing. Since Secretary Linden had given the order, it must have been under Simon’s instructions.
She wondered what he was planning to do.
The Hawthorne Group’s headquarters building was located in the very center of the Global Trade Concourse CBD. Entering the towering skyscraper and watching the changing numbers on the elevator display, Zoe felt an inexplicable sense of unease. Her intuition told her it wouldn’t be anything good.