Even though it was a chilling night, there was an added sense of lingering tenderness. The cold had vanished, leaving only a tingling thrill. Zoe Lancaster stared blankly into his eyes for a moment.
Perhaps the moonlight was too gentle, casting an indescribably affectionate aura over him. He looked at her so intently, as if she were his entire world—the person he cherished above all else. This illusion only lasted for two seconds before she forced herself to snap back to reality. Turning her head slightly, she said slowly, "If I didn’t call you that, you wouldn’t have acknowledged me. I was just acting out of desperation."
This was also a response to his question about her "sincerity."
Simon Hawthorne gazed down at her. Deep within his eyes, raging waves seemed to surge, yet upon closer inspection, they had already returned to a tranquil calm. "Can’t you just yield to me, just this once?"
Zoe’s heart skipped a beat. Her heart nearly stopped. She looked at him in astonishment. His clear eyes reflected her image. Despite his usual aloof and unbothered tone, there seemed to be a hint of helplessness in it, like a sigh.
Simon approached her, their noses almost touching. "Evie?"
This address nearly turned Zoe’s bones to jelly. Her face flushed embarrassingly red. Their current posture was truly dangerous. Steeling her resolve, she wanted to quickly end this tormenting situation. "Husband—"
It felt fine at the time, but now she was completely engulfed by shame. Zoe turned her head away, her ears burning hot.
There seemed to be a long silence. Seeing no reaction from Simon, Zoe carefully turned her head to peek at him. She was caught off guard, meeting a pair of dark eyes that held a faint smile. It was a subtle amusement, watching her every reaction the entire time. And naturally, he caught her unbearable urge to sneak a glance right in the act.
Zoe instantly reacted like a startled cat, struggling to break free from his embrace. "I’m tired. I want to go to sleep."
Simon gave a faint smile, pinching her smooth, tender cheek with his fingertips. "Evie, you get shy so easily."
Not knowing whether she was embarrassed or annoyed, Zoe pushed him away and ran upstairs without looking back.
Simon stood still where he was. He looked up at the window on the thirteenth floor. Before long, the main lights turned on. Leaning lazily against the car hood, he clamped an unlit cigarette between his lips. He casually played with his lighter, in no rush to leave.
Zoe sat on the carpet, absently touching her still-burning earlobe, her mind in a chaotic mess. In the quiet space, she could only hear the relentless pounding of her own heartbeat.
DING-DONG.
A WhatsApp notification chimed, interrupting her tangled thoughts. She picked up her phone to check. It was a message from Simon.
MR.H: [Go to sleep early.]
MR.H: [Good night.]
Zoe was stunned. It was hard to imagine that a man like Simon Hawthorne would send such an affectionate phrase as "Good night." He was like a work machine—cold and precise, rarely showing any moments of warmth. In his eyes, such behaviors were probably childish and ridiculous. Yet now... Zoe couldn’t describe how she felt.
There was actually a slight feeling of being in a romance. It was like being handed an entire jar of honey while starving and freezing. She felt a mix of bewilderment, confusion, sweetness, and panic. As for which feeling prevailed... It was probably that unprecedented sweetness. Because she had never experienced it before, its arrival was incredibly special and prominent, making it impossible to ignore. However, it also made Zoe a bit afraid. She wondered if this was all just a dream.
The next day.
This question gave Zoe an answer. When she came out after washing up and doing her makeup, she saw the man sitting at the dining table. He was nodding and chatting with Claire Sutton. His posture held no arrogance whatsoever; he remained calm and composed throughout. Hearing the noise, both he and Claire looked over.
Claire smiled and waved her hand. "Come have breakfast."
Zoe walked over and quietly asked the man beside her in confusion, "Why are you here?"
Simon placed a soup spoon by her hand. "I’m dropping you off at work in a bit," he replied in a deep voice.
Zoe’s face was filled with surprise. Had the sun really risen from the west? This inexplicable clinginess was exactly like that of a passionately in-love couple.
Claire scooped a bowl of porridge for Zoe and said with a beaming smile, "Simon told me that you two had a disagreement a few days ago. You got angry, ignored him, and ran over to my place to give him the cold shoulder. Zoe, you can’t act on impulse like this anymore. If there are any problems, the two of you need to communicate properly. You can’t just throw tantrums, you hear?"
Zoe felt her nose twisting in anger. She glared at the calm man beside her. How could he distort the truth so masterfully?! He made it sound like it was her fault and he was the wronged party!
Claire couldn’t help but ask further, "What was the disagreement about?"
Simon cast a faint glance at Zoe. His voice was unhurried, carrying a hint of remorse. "I got jealous over nothing. It was a misunderstanding."
Zoe genuinely admired Simon’s ability to fabricate stories. What could he possibly be jealous of? It was nothing more than his possessiveness acting up, yet he made it sound so romantic and appealing.
Claire immediately understood. Jealousy! Wasn’t that just a sign of caring? This was just playful banter between a young married couple! "Zoe, put an end to these issues in the future. Don’t cause conflicts over insignificant people. Simon only did it because he cares about you. Don’t hold a grudge against him."
Zoe smiled and murmured an agreement. In her heart, she remained entirely clear-headed. She wondered if he truly cared. Such a word might be reasonable when applied to Peyton Joyce, but it was somewhat laughable when applied to her.
Simon seemed to notice her shift in mood. After placing a crab roe soup dumpling on her plate, he asked in a low voice, "What’s wrong?"
Zoe looked at the soup dumpling. He seemed to accurately cater to her favorite foods every single time. He had never once made a mistake. If it was just a coincidence, it was a bit too uncanny. She wondered if he knew her preferences, but it was easier to believe it was just a coincidence.
"It’s nothing," she deflected, lowering her head to eat.
Simon didn’t push the matter. Autumn Linden had gotten quite drunk the night before and was still sound asleep.
After breakfast, the two went downstairs. Linden was driving today. He respectfully opened the car door. "Mr. Hawthorne, Madam, please get in."
Crescent Peninsula was relatively central, so it took less than twenty minutes to reach the vicinity of the Global Trade Concourse. Simon ordered Linden to drive straight into Azure Drive Group’s underground parking garage, pulling smoothly into one of the parking spots.
Zoe turned her head to look. "There was no need to bring me all the way inside. It’s too much trouble."
Simon’s long eyes swept a faint glance outside the car, his tone casual. "It’s not any trouble. Dropping my wife off at work—any trouble is worth it."
Zoe was caught off guard and froze. Her psychological defenses were completely shattered by the word "wife." Abnormal. This was far too abnormal! Ever since she called him "husband" for help yesterday, this man had been acting out of character. He was affectionate, considerate, and now he was even calling her...
Zoe was practically blushing up to her ears. She hurriedly tried to unbuckle her seatbelt, but the more she panicked, the more it got stuck. She was sweating from anxiety until a warm, large hand covered the back of hers. She looked up, colliding with a pair of deep, boundless eyes. His gaze held unconcealable desire. He stared at her lips with strong intent and a hint of seduction.
Zoe forgot to react as he lowered his head and kissed her. Accompanied by a soft CLICK, he helped unfasten her seatbelt. The warmth on her lips was lingering. Her face flushed red as she was guided and sucked into the kiss. With nowhere to place her hands, someone inadvertently pressed a button—whether it was her or him, she didn’t know—and the car window rolled down.
The sound of a car pulling up outside was clear. She involuntarily turned her head and met the dark, gloomy eyes of Miles Yates, sitting inside his Bugatti.