The others erupted in laughter. Chloe Marshall stood beside Ethan Ellsworth. In truth, she wanted to go speak with Nora Ainsworth but didn’t dare to just approach her.
Nora Ainsworth quickly scurried away, not stopping until she was inside the restroom. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she finally let out a sigh of relief. The tension from before had been so oppressive it nearly suffocated her.
’A guilty conscience is a killer!’
She took a mont to compose herself, then left the restroom, deliberately taking the long way around to avoid Quentin Grant’s table.
She found a quiet corner and hunkered down, just trying to make the ti pass faster.
Half an hour later, the dance floor began to fill with couples. From a distance, she saw Quentin Grant dancing with Sharon Ainsworth. He wore a faint, almost imperceptible smile—so subtle you would miss it if you weren’t looking closely.
Nora Ainsworth kept her head down. Eventually, she couldn’t stand sitting there any longer. She got her down jacket from a staff mber, said goodbye to Mrs. and Mr. Ainsworth, and prepared to sneak out of the Grant residence.
Just then, a text ssage ca in. Nora Ainsworth glanced down at it and instantly wanted to die.
It was from Herman Hawthorne.
He was summoning her to guest room 208 on the second floor. He had sothing to ask her.
She had no idea where he’d gotten her number, but she knew she couldn’t just ignore it; she had to go explain herself. Nora Ainsworth had no choice but to hurry to the second floor. Her petite figure flashed for a mont before disappearing into the elevator bank.
The second floor was silent, a world away from the noisy festivities on the first floor.
Nora Ainsworth trod lightly. Standing before the door to guest room 208, she knocked.
"Co in." A magnetic male voice called from inside.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. It was unlocked. The room was pitch-black, but the pale light from the window made it possible to see the interior.
"Um, I’m sorry," Nora Ainsworth said, breaking the silence.
Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around her from the side, pulling her into an embrace that only grew tighter.
"Ah!" Nora Ainsworth scread, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest.
"Don’t scream," a low voice murmured beside her ear.
"Wh-what are you doing?!"
"Do you have any idea how you’ve damaged my reputation? We’ve only just t—we’re complete strangers—yet you told everyone we’re old acquaintances. Why?"
Nora Ainsworth froze. She opened her mouth to speak, but the real reason was so humiliating she found it impossible to say.
"I’m sorry. I truly apologize. Could you please let go first?"
Herman Hawthorne let her go. In the dim light, they could vaguely make out each other’s expressions.
Nora Ainsworth spoke candidly, "Mr. Hawthorne, I heard that you’re friends with my... brother-in-law. For his sake, please forgive just this once. I promise I’ll never speak so carelessly again."
Herman Hawthorne’s eyes glinted. He looked at her flustered state, a smile playing on his lips as he suddenly chuckled. "But what’s said is said. You can’t take back your words. So, how about this? I have to go back downstairs. You wait here for half an hour. If I don’t co back up by then, you can leave, and I’ll consider you forgiven."
Nora Ainsworth nodded hurriedly. "Okay."
Herman Hawthorne turned, opened the door, and left. ’The more I think about it, the more interesting that girl is,’ he mused. ’Too bad soone else got to her first.’ He felt a flicker of regret at the thought, but she was his friend’s girl. He knew his boundaries.
He went downstairs, slipping through the crowd until he was beside Quentin Grant, who had just finished dancing. With a wicked grin, he said, "That girl’s not bad. I put my hands on her."
Quentin Grant raised an eyebrow. "How, exactly, did you ’put your hands on her’?"
User Comments
0 comments from readers