"Him?" Zoe Lancaster found it unbelievable. They had just gotten into an argument, and she had hit his beloved woman. Yet, he still asked Shane Shaw to drive her home?
Shane nodded. "Yes, Mr. Hawthorne is worried about you."
Zoe was speechless. She genuinely suspected that Shane was just being diplomatic, probably only sugar-coating things to smooth the situation over.
"There’s no need. It’s easy for me to catch a cab," Zoe refused.
It would be a lie to say she wasn’t still upset. Not to mention, she had just thrown that necklace back at him and told him to go coax his little girlfriend with it. And now he was worried about her safety and having his executive assistant drive her? Was this his way of giving her a slap in the face followed by a sweet treat?
Shane maintained his professional tone. "Mr. Hawthorne said that if you don’t get in the car, ma’am, I don’t need to come into the office tomorrow."
Zoe was rendered speechless again. Fine. He was ruthless!
Guilt-tripped, she got into the car. The more Zoe thought about it, the angrier she became. She wondered why she should be the one wrongfully accused, yet still forced to swallow this grievance.
Zoe’s expression must have been incredibly sour, because even Shane, who was driving, couldn’t help but notice. He glanced at her through the rearview mirror, hesitating for a moment before speaking up. "Actually, ma’am, you’ve misunderstood Mr. Hawthorne."
Zoe gave him a lazy look. "How so?" After all, he was Simon Hawthorne’s man. They were cut from the same cloth.
Shane told her the truth. "The necklace he gave you wasn’t chosen by Mr. Hawthorne. I went to the store and picked it out. Mr. Hawthorne is a very busy man, but he was thinking of you. Since he couldn’t find the time himself, he asked me to pick out the most expensive and satisfactory piece for you."
Zoe froze. She was still a little suspicious. "But he never said..."
"You know Mr. Hawthorne’s personality," Shane explained. "He doesn’t like to explain himself. The situation with Miss Joyce was also a misunderstanding. Mr. Hawthorne would never do something like give the two of you the exact same item."
Seeing that this family was on the verge of falling apart, Shane decided to step in and clear the air for his boss. He was determined to play peacemaker and save his boss’s marriage before it completely fell apart!
Zoe was astonished. She had been stewing in anger and frustration for days over this, and it turned out to be a complete misunderstanding? The necklace was genuinely meant for her?
Suddenly, she remembered the wild, arrogant text messages she had sent Simon. Zoe covered her eyes and gritted her teeth. Her mood instantly became complicated. She wondered if she should be happy, or if she should be worried about the consequences of her own making.
The main point was that she had told him to give the necklace to Stella Joyce to make her happy. Now... she really was starting to regret it.
After pondering for a long time, she suddenly asked, "Is Simon going back to The Imperial Residence tonight?"
"Yes," Shane replied. "He should head back after his business dinner."
Zoe clapped her hands together. "Take me to The Imperial Residence. But don’t tell him."
One o’clock in the morning.
As the elevator ascended, Simon tilted his head back and loosened his tie. A faint frown creased his brow, and he carried the lingering scent of alcohol. Once the doors opened, he stepped out and walked into the pitch-black apartment.
Without turning on the lights, he headed straight for the refrigerator, took out a bottle of ice water, and poured it down his throat. He had drunk quite a bit tonight. His head was heavy and groggy, and dark, uncontrollable desires were wreaking havoc in his mind.
He leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, bowing his back and lowering his head.
CLICK.
The small entryway light suddenly flickered on. The illumination was soft and dim.
He lifted his head and saw that Zoe was already there. She walked over, having taken off her coat, now wearing a white cashmere sweater dress. A coffee-colored belt cinched her impossibly slender waist. The dress clung to her figure, emphasizing an incredibly sexy waist-to-hip ratio. He still remembered the sensation of that night—plump, soft, and bursting with luscious sensuality. Calling her a temptress wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
At this moment, the woman seemed a bit hesitant. Her bright eyes looked at him as she carefully shuffled closer. With a glint of calculation in her gaze, she asked, "Have you been drinking?"
Simon narrowed his eyes, staring intently at her as his Adam’s apple bobbed. "What are you doing here?"
Zoe moved closer and caught the scent of alcohol. It wasn’t too strong, slightly masked by the woody scent of oud and agarwood he always wore. "I asked Shane to drop me off here. Did you drink a lot? Let me make you some hangover soup."
She definitely had an ulterior motive. Since the whole incident was a misunderstanding, she had to figure out how to clean up the mess she had created. As for the matter with Stella, she felt she needed to explain herself clearly—if only out of respect for her wallet!
"No need." Simon’s expression was icy and indifferent. He set down the water bottle and walked away.
How could Zoe dare to neglect him now? She kept a close eye on his expression, terrified that he was genuinely pissed off. Right now, he was the one holding the purse strings. Even if she threw a tantrum, she still had to consider the aftermath.
"It looks like you had quite a bit to drink. You’re going to feel terrible tomorrow. It won’t take long to cook, just wait ten minutes," she coaxed, trotting alongside him. She even followed him into the bathroom, desperate for a response.
Simon turned back to look at her. "I’m going to use the toilet. Do you want to watch that too?"
Perhaps attempting to lighten the mood, Zoe’s mouth moved faster than her brain. "If you’re too drunk to stand, I can even help you hold it."
As soon as the words left her mouth, silence fell over the room. You could hear a pin drop, and a bizarre, awkward atmosphere quickly spread between them.
Her brain finally registered the filthy innuendo she had just blurted out. She snapped her head up and met Simon’s half-mocking, half-sarcastic gaze. His stare made her want to sink into the floor from sheer humiliation. "No, I mean..."
"What exactly do you want?" Simon interrupted her useless explanation, his sharp eyes making her feel exposed. "I thought you had a huge temper and didn’t care for me?"
She hadn’t expected this man to hold such a grudge. Zoe had no choice but to play along. "I do care. I was actually very happy with the necklace you gave me. And because I was so happy, I... cared too much about certain things."
Although she was speaking the truth, she was definitely putting on a bit of an act right now. She was the kind of person who dealt with things one step at a time, and sometimes, she could be incredibly flexible when the situation called for it.
Simon narrowed his eyes at her, looking as though he could see right through her. "So... are you trying to coax me right now?"
Uncertain whether he would hold her accountable for slapping Stella, Zoe could only nod tentatively. "Don’t stoop to my level, okay? Women inevitably get emotional when faced with these kinds of issues. It’s only because I care..."
"Heh..." Simon let out an ambiguous chuckle.
He suddenly leaned down, his eyes dark and profound. "If you’re going to coax someone, show some sincerity. Just moving your lips isn’t genuine enough."
"Then what..." Before Zoe could finish her sentence, she lost her balance. Simon effortlessly lifted her and set her down on the bathroom vanity. Her back pressed against the mirror, and her slender waist was clamped in a firm, veiny hand. Before she could even react, her chin was tilted up, and a sharp pain bloomed on her lips. "Mmh...!"
The situation was heading in a completely different direction than she had anticipated.
With their lips and tongues tangled in such intimate proximity, she tasted the sharp tang of alcohol. In that moment, she seemed to have become his personal, human hangover cure. The hand gripping her chin forced her lips apart, making her accept the aggressive invasion of his drunken desire.
Zoe found it hard to breathe. A sudden chill struck her chest, and she realized that the neckline of her sweater dress had been pulled down, and her bra pushed up to her collarbones. Her soft curves were pushed out of shape, molded into countless different forms.
Tears welled up in her eyes from her desperate gasping.
Simon finally pulled away from her lips. He looked down at her with a calm, masterful gaze. "It seems you really did use that five hundred dollars for lessons? You’re certainly much more vocal than you were back then."