Chapter 1823: Chapter 1813: Taking the Initiative to Call Her
Two hours later, Adam Sinclair was already passed out from drinking.
Painfully murmuring Olivia Lewis’ na.
The arrogant, cold man expressionlessly picked up the glass, poured himself another drink, and after downing it, reached for the phone tossed aside by the drunk person, found Olivia Lewis’ number, and dialed it.
No answer the first ti.
Patiently, he called a second ti.
This ti it answered.
“Second floor of Westin Club, co pick him up unless you want him to die here!” Direct and crude.
Having said that, he imdiately hung up, tossed the phone back onto the drunk person.
After finishing that entire bottle of red wine, he instructed the staff beside him, “Keep an eye on him.”
Then he stood up and walked away without looking back.
Scott Harris had been waiting downstairs for quite a while; seeing him co down, he imdiately greeted him, “Lord.”
As soon as he approached, he slled the strong scent of alcohol on the man, involuntarily wrinkled his brow, and asked with so urgency, “Lord, you drank?”
Lord hadn’t eaten much these past few days; his stomach was fragile and solely reliant on stomach dicine.
Drinking at this ti was undoubtedly self-torture!
Baron Lawrence was indeed self-torturing, the turmoil in his stomach suppressed the pain in his heart thoroughly. His dark eyes seed sober yet drunk. His brow furrowed due to stomach discomfort, he let out a low “um” as a response.
Seeing his pale lips, Scott Harris wasted no words, quickly opened the car door for him, “Lord, please get in.”
Baron Lawrence stooped and got into the car.
The car smoothly headed towards the hotel.
Along the way, the man sitting in the back row was playing on his phone, several tis his fingers touched the only na in the contacts list, only to slide it away again.
Red wine doesn’t hit imdiately, but slowly takes effect later on.
His temples throbbed, buzzing incessantly.
Damn it!
Baron Lawrence pressed his throbbing temples, his stomach felt like it was being churned, causing pain. A fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, his thin lips tightly pressed, staring at the phone as if trying to glare out a flower from the na displayed.
Enna Clark.
Enna Clark.
Enna Clark.
Damn it, his mind was filled entirely with Enna Clark. Her na, her face, her voice. Every cell in his body scread to see her, to enter her, to prove she was still his!
His thin lips pressed so hard that a tallic taste spread between his teeth.
He clenched the phone tightly, as if only this could slightly control his terrifying possessiveness.
Who says breaking up ans they’re unrelated?
Who says breaking up ans he can’t manage if she has a new romance!
Even if he and Enna Clark broke up, Enna Clark is still his!
The pent-up irritation of several days seed to find a breakthrough, he pursed his lips, his eagle-like eyes filled with obsession.
Yes!
Even if they’ve broken up, Enna Clark is still his!
He looked down at that phone number again, his finger moved and naturally dialed it.
“Beep…”
The alcohol in his blood from the red wine had completely evaporated.
Baron Lawrence’s vision blurred, yet he pressed his thin lips tighter, preferring the tallic taste, stubbornly dialing that number.
“Beep…”
His brow furrowed tighter. His stomach too, cold and sharply painful.
Just as the phone was about to hang up, the person on the other end finally answered—
User Comments
0 comments from readers