Chapter 1177: Chapter 1177: Which Law States That I Have to Like You Chapter 1177: Chapter 1177: Which Law States That I Have to Like You A night of sweet dreams.
Baron Lawrence was awakened by a phone call, and only after being startled awake did he realize that it was already daylight outside.
Damn it. When had he fallen asleep last night?
He sat up from the sofa, unable to recall the specific mont he fell asleep the previous night. He looked up and saw Enna Clark’s study still displayed on the wall.
There was no one in the study now; she must have gone to sleep.
Had she left the video running all night last night?
He rubbed his temples, which were throbbing with pain, picked up his phone, and noticed that the battery was nearly dead.
On the screen, incoming calls were still flashing incessantly.
He answered the call, “Speak!”
“Lord, it’s ti for the itinerary you scheduled earlier. What do you think…”
Baron Lawrence glanced at the quartz clock on the wall, it was already nine in the morning.
He had a military district eting this morning and had to be there by nine-thirty.
“I’ll be there imdiately!” He hung up the phone decisively, put down his phone, changed his clothes in the cloakroom, and then left the house with his phone and coat.
He didn’t notice that as soon as he stepped downstairs, soone saw him and imdiately placed a call to a guest room in the Lawrence Castle.
The person who had been prepared in the guest room set out imdiately.
As soon as Baron Lawrence arrived at the castle gates, the driver promptly greeted him, “Lord.”
“Open the door.”
“Yes.”
The driver pulled open the car door.
He straightened his suit button, was just about to get in, when suddenly, a stubborn voice carried over, “Brother Baron!”
That voice was…
Baron Lawrence’s eyebrows were so furrowed they could have killed a fly!
Scarlett, as if oblivious to his displeased expression, jogged towards him while holding sothing in her hands, as though she had sothing to ask of him.
Before she reached him, suddenly, as if she had twisted her foot, her entire body tilted toward him—
Baron Lawrence’s instinct was to dodge, but the gentlemanly upbringing ingrained in his bones made him reflexively reach out his hand to support the person who almost fell.
Scarlett’s arm was steadied by his touch, saving her from a fall, and a look of joy spread across her lips, about to say thanks.
But the man who supported her, as if he had touched so bacteria, let go of her arm imdiately, his face extrely displeased, “Next ti you’re going to fall, fall farther away!”
Scarlett’s smile froze on her face, and the words of thanks that were on the tip of her tongue could not be spoken. Extrely embarrassed, she said, “Brother Baron, I didn’t an it. I accidentally stepped on a stone just now, that’s why I almost fell…”
“I don’t care how you fall, just stay farther away from next ti.”
The tone he used was as an as if he was saying, “Next ti, go fall farther away and die.”
Scarlett’s pretty face turned a succession of red, white, then purple. After struggling to contain herself for a long ti, she finally said with barely hidden grievance, “Brother Baron, what have I done wrong? Why do you dislike so much?”
She looked as if she had suffered the greatest injustice, her long-held facade of strength ripping apart at that mont, as if she could no longer bear it. Her eyes brimd with moisture, misty and fetching.
Even the driver, seeing her like this, couldn’t help but feel sympathy, wanting to protect and care for her.
But the very person Scarlett yearned to be cared for showed no reaction at all. His face was as cold and hard as iron, his hawk-like eyes sharply watching her with no trace of emotional fluctuation—only impatience, nothing but impatience, “Which law stipulates that I must like you?”
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