Her forehead was covered in fine, dense beads of sweat. She raised her hand to wipe them away.
Behind her, the black convoy ca to a smooth stop.
The car door opened, and chubby Harry jumped out, yowling and rushing towards Sophie Sullivan.
Hearing Harry’s voice, Sophie Sullivan turned her head and saw the black Lincoln fleet that had caught up at so point.
She pursed her lips and looked at the man sitting in the back seat. His handso face was cold and solemn, his lips slightly pursed, and his angular profile appeared deep and three-dinsional.
He looked as if he had been ticulously sculpted by God himself.
Handso as a painting, exquisitely refined.
Harry climbed into Sophie Sullivan’s embrace, demanding attention, his furry little head rubbing against her face.
Sophie Sullivan’s face was still damp with a thin layer of sweat, and when his furry head rubbed against her, a good deal of his fur stuck to her.
"Harry, go back."
"OW." Harry stared at her with his big, round eyes.
Harry refused to leave, clinging to her embrace like a rascal, owing incessantly.
Sophie Sullivan lowered her head and poked his little head with her index finger. "What are you owing about, you little scamr?"
Thomas Shannon sat quietly for a while, but Sophie Sullivan hadn’t co to the car yet. His eyes darkened, and he reluctantly got out.
His long legs, encased in high-quality trousers, appeared even straighter and more slender.
The black shirt he wore highlighted his innate air of nobility and an uncontainable, sharp, cold edge that made him rather intimidating.
Thomas Shannon approached Sophie Sullivan from behind. Holding Harry, Sophie Sullivan stood up, determined not to be outdone in presence.
Being looked down upon by him, Sophie Sullivan felt her own imposing air diminish significantly.
She stepped back a few paces, creating so distance, and looked directly at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for Harry."
Sophie Sullivan: "..."
Hadn’t he opened the car door and let Harry out himself? What was there to look for?
"OW." Harry owed triumphantly at Thomas Shannon, as if seeking praise for his accomplishnt.
"Looking for Harry, huh?" Sophie Sullivan pushed Harry in her arms forward. "Here you go."
Held in mid-air, Harry’s imposing deanor vanished, and he imdiately wilted.
He looked at his owner, then turned his head to look at Sophie Sullivan.
In the end, he could only kick his four paws pathetically a couple of tis before going completely limp.
Thomas Shannon’s eyes were piercing, his sharp gaze like a knife about to stab into her. Charlie River, standing by the car door, shook his head and secretly gestured at him.
Young Master, no! Be gentle! Be considerate!
Thomas Shannon quietly exhaled a breath of turbid air, his gaze chilling as he stared at Sophie Sullivan. Was gentleness what she truly wanted?
「Fifteen minutes earlier—」
Thomas Shannon stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows in his study room, watching Sophie Sullivan’s stubborn figure retreat with faltering steps.
Her words had pierced deep into his heart.
Thomas Shannon didn’t understand; all the good things he had done for her, what did they even count for?
He picked up his mobile phone, intending to call William Guillen, but his finger paused over the number for a mont before he decided against it.
Instead, he called Edward Benson.
"What’s going on, Thomas?" Edward Benson’s voice sounded sowhat tired.
"What do you do if a woman only notices those who are gentle with her and ignores everyone else?"
Edward Benson paused for a mont, a flicker of understanding in his eyes as he deciphered the complex three-person dynamic in Thomas Shannon’s words. So, the woman is the ’maniac,’ ’everyone else’ is him... and there’s another ’gentle’ person? He chuckled. "Thomas, the woman is the ’maniac,’ ’everyone else’ is you... so who is the gentle one?"
Thomas Shannon suddenly felt irritated. In his line of sight, Sophie Sullivan’s stubborn figure grew smaller and smaller. A naless fire surged within him. "Stop asking. Just tell what to do in this situation."
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