The phone pressed against her ear, Titus Zane couldn’t quite catch up with the reaction and remained stunned when that stern voice penetrated her eardrum once again.
"Titus Zane, you have five minutes!"
"Nathan Moore, are you sick?" After regaining her senses, Titus Zane found it incomprehensible. Was he intentionally tornting her by giving her such a short ti to get downstairs?
"If you don’t co down, by tomorrow, your reason for coming to Banyan City will be common knowledge!" Following the threat, Nathan Moore hung up the call, pocketed his phone, and beneath the hazy street lights, his dark pupils hid his emotions.
Even though he was still unclear about Titus Zane’s purpose in Banyan City, Nathan Moore was certain she had so ulterior motive.
Otherwise, such a proud woman would never humiliate herself by pandering to n.
And she didn’t discriminate, for example, the corpulent Colt Thornton, a man who looked lascivious at the slightest glance.
...
Clutching the phone tightly, Titus Zane’s complexion subtly changed. Could it be... Nathan Moore had been investigating her behind her back? Did he know of her true identity?
No, she had to et him imdiately to prevent him from causing trouble. And there’s also... her current identity... which was taboo. If he deliberately leaked it... there would only be two consequences.
One would be facing legal repercussions, and the other, being hunted by those she had deceived.
Either outco was not what she wanted.
Standing in the living room, her European-esque eyes squinting conveyed a cold and stern sensation, and her expression appeared tense.
In the bedroom, Wesley Foley’s voice arose, weak and seemingly in pain, his mind still preoccupied with Titus Zane even in drunkenness.
"carry..."
Suddenly snapping back to reality, Titus Zane turned her head towards the direction of Wesley’s bedroom, then set her phone on the coffee table and walked toward the bedroom.
Pushing open the door, she saw the man on the bed with furrowed brows, continuously pulling at his shirt collar, restless and seemingly in agony.
Approaching the bed, she turned to sit by his side, reached out to stop Wesley’s tugging at his collar, helping him unbutton it while gently soothing him.
"You rest for now, I’ll go get you so hangover dicine."
Perhaps the removal of the constriction around his neck allowed for easier breathing, or maybe Titus Zane’s comfort had an effect, but the restless man finally cald down, letting out a soft hum through his breath.
Standing up, she adjusted Wesley’s blanket, then Titus Zane once again left the room.
As soon as she stepped out of the apartnt, Titus Zane called Nathan Moore. Her face was stern, matching the seriousness of her words as she spoke.
"Nathan Moore, where are you? Let’s talk."
The voice on the other end sneered, "I’m right beneath your apartnt."
Titus Zane paused for a mont, hung up the phone, and headed towards the elevator.
The deep autumn night is always unbearably cold.
There isn’t even a breath of wind, yet it chills to the bone.
In her rush, Titus Zane forgot to put on a coat; a floral high-necked shirt looked lovely, but offered no protection against the cold.
Stepping out of the apartnt building, Titus Zane searched around, and under the other apartnt building, a sedan parked there with hazard lights flashing. Under the street light, a tall and striking figure stood in the night, the cigarette between his fingers flickering dimly.
Titus Zane didn’t know how Nathan Moore had found her residence, but she was clear that a talk with him was necessary.
Standing at the entrance of the apartnt, staring at the solitary man before her, Titus Zane took a deep breath. Her hands, hanging by her sides, clenched tightly -- whether from nervousness or cold, she couldn’t tell -- as she stepped forward towards the man standing nonchalantly.
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