"And the awareness to protect your face at all tis."
If she didn’t even have this sense of self-protection, it would be futile no matter where she lived.
George Stanford’s words were like an invisible slap, fiercely hitting her face.
Sophie Sullivan felt a burning pain on her face, filled with sha.
"What, still want to glare at ?" George Stanford crossed his arms, his imposing air on full display as he scowled at her.
Sophie Sullivan deflated and chose not to argue with him. "Old Mr. Standford, can’t I really stay in the dical office?"
This tone of weakness. This pitiful expression...
George Stanford was stunned for a mont. Sothing was off. Very off! This wasn’t Fiona’s style. She was like a fighting rooster, always ready to pounce and peck soone. This harmless deanor now was truly startling.
George Stanford eyed her suspiciously, leaning back in his chair. With a push of his legs, the chair slid back so distance. "Alright, what tricks are you up to now?"
Sophie Sullivan was amused by his reaction. Resting her chin on her hand, she gave him a sidelong glance. "I say, Old Mr. Standford, are you perhaps a bit paranoid?"
"TSK TSK TSK..." George Stanford nodded. Now *that* was more like Fiona. The tone was right. The expression was right too.
Sophie Sullivan bristled, slapping her palm on the tabletop. "Old Mr. Standford, what’s with that look?"
George Stanford said coolly, "You’re asking despite knowing the answer."
"You..." Sophie hesitated for a mont, then cald down. "I’m not here to ask for your opinion, just to inform you. I’m going to stay in the dical office, and when you’re free, you have to co examine my face."
"What did you say? The wind’s too loud, I can’t hear you." George Stanford played dumb.
Sophie Sullivan propped herself up with both hands on his desk, rising to look down at the man still playing deaf and dumb. "So, it’s happily decided."
Happily? Happily, my foot! George Stanford cursed inwardly. How did he end up with such a difficult patient? Truly an unlucky year... an unlucky year indeed!
"Where did you say you were staying?"
Thomas Shannon’s cold voice suddenly sounded.
George Stanford glanced past her shoulder, and a smile imdiately touched his lips, the very picture of soone eager to watch a good show and not minding stirring up trouble.
Sophie froze. What’s he doing here?
After the events of last night, Thomas Shannon hadn’t planned on holding things against her anymore.
He had skipped breakfast to co find her at the dical office. He hadn’t expected to overhear that particular exchange.
Stay in the dical office? Was she that desperate to avoid him? So unwilling to be with him?
At this thought, Thomas Shannon’s divinely handso and noble face instantly turned frosty. He strode forward, ca up behind her, seized her wrist, and pulled her around to face him.
His cold eyes, slightly lowered, locked onto her. His thin lips pressed into a hard line. "Tell , where do you want to stay?"
Sophie Sullivan looked at the man who had shown up early in the morning to cause trouble for no apparent reason and sneered, "Didn’t Young Master Shannon hear clearly? Why bother asking again?"
Such a sharp, glib tongue!
Thomas Shannon seized her chin with one hand, pulling her face close to his. "You little maniac, if you continue to be so unappreciative, don’t bla for what happens next!"
Unappreciative?
Sophie Sullivan wanted to laugh, but he gripped her chin so forcefully it felt as if he could crush the bones at any mont.
She winced, her brows furrowing as pain contorted her features. "Thomas Shannon, are you insane? Let go of ."
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