"Oh, congratulations then!" Hannah Hargrave said with a smile. Sophie Foster detested her hypocritical expression the most, and with a glance of disdain, she wrapped her arms around Nicholas Croft’s waist and said, "Uncle, I want so milk tea."
Nicholas Croft understood Sophie Foster’s thoughts, nodded apologetically to Hannah Hargrave, and said, "Sorry," then walked towards the café with Sophie Foster.
Watching their intertwined figures like conjoined twins, the smile on Hannah Hargrave’s face gradually faded, her beautiful eyes narrowed slowly, and her grips on her handbag tightened, almost wishing to crush the straps.
The female assistant behind stepped forward and stood beside Hannah Hargrave, looking at the couple’s retreating backs with dissatisfaction, "President, your sister really doesn’t know how to be grateful."
Hannah Hargrave suddenly turned her head, glanced at the assistant, and said nothing.
Behind them, the male assistant holding the suitcase also stared intently at the couple’s backs, his eyes showing obvious hostility.
Hannah Hargrave glanced back, "Harry, go change the boarding passes."
Harry Zachary withdrew his gaze, gave Hannah Hargrave a brief look, put down the suitcase, and turned to leave.
In the first-class cabin, Hannah Hargrave’s seat was diagonally behind Nicholas Croft and Sophie Foster, separated by two rows. It was hard not to notice the affectionate couple in front.
Seeing the man request a light blanket from the flight attendant and drape it over his wife, then considerately ask for so snacks... Hannah Hargrave’s hands tightened on the small table, her slightly narrowed eyes seemingly suppressing so emotion.
Male assistant Harry Zachary, sitting with her in first-class, leaned forward slightly to look ahead, then turned his gaze back to Hannah Hargrave’s face, expressionlessly asking, "Jealous?"
Hannah Hargrave turned her head abruptly, facing Harry Zachary’s slightly mocking gaze, and scolded displeasedly, "What are you to feel jealous!"
Harry Zachary slightly curled his lips, his eyes filled with even more scorn. He leaned his face closer, lowering his voice to say, "I know I’m nothing, but," pausing here, Harry Zachary tilted the corners of his mouth with obvious mischief and whispered more intimately, nearly brushing Hannah Hargrave’s ear, "I can make you feel ecstatic. Isn’t that why you hired as your personal assistant because you value this trait of mine?"
Hannah Hargrave...
Her gaze tightened, hands on the sides clenched even more, eting the sneer in Harry Zachary’s eyes, she gritted her teeth and said, "Don’t think you’re sothing just because you’ve made comfortable. If it weren’t for that pretty face of yours, humph," Hannah Hargrave pinched Harry Zachary’s chin with a cold smile, "do you think I’d let you warm my bed!"
Harry Zachary knew that to Hannah Hargrave, he was nothing more than a warming tool.
Though aware of his status in Hannah Hargrave’s mind, he was still unwilling. She had the capability to make money, and he could satisfy her, which should’ve been the perfect combination, but she was still dissatisfied.
He curved the corners of his lips, concealing his jealousy well, grabbed Hannah Hargrave’s hand pinching his chin into his palm, and brought it to his lips to kiss, coaxing affectionately, "Alright, getting angry ages you faster. When we get to the Capital City, I’ll make sure you’re well pleased, don’t think about those irrelevant people, okay?"
"You’re good with words," Hannah Hargrave withdrew her hand.
In the Capital City, the film festival would be held in the evening. After checking into the reserved hotel, the female assistant was already busy preparing for the festival. In Hannah Hargrave’s room, a man and a woman were passionately entangled in the bathroom, the man pinning the woman against the tiled wall, while the woman exaggeratedly scread, continuously calling, "Nicholas..."
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