NovelEnglish"Slander him?" The rage sparked in his eyes as his face twisted into a scowl. Seeing him flare up for nothing serious, I suddenly felt relieved. “Isn't that what you said, Bryant? That we should always have evidence." With that, I turned and walked toward my room.
Behind me, Bryant was barely holding back his rage, sparing only a terse reply, "Six o'clock." "Got it!" I didn't even look back.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtMy agreement wasn't for him but for Mark. I remembered how badly Mark got treated at the family chapel and suddenly wanted to be there for him tonight in case Violet tried to embarrass him again. It was my turn to have his back, especially with Mrs. Ferguson's influential nat my disposal. Why waste it? After showering and getting ready, I applied smakeup.
For an occasion like this, simplicity and elegance were key. I opted for a tight black dress embroidered at the hems and knee-length, showing off my slender legs.
At six o'clock on the dot, in my lambskin heels, I was ready downstairs. HCategories Search...
Ê 202/205 Hearing me, Bryant looked up. A glint of admiration passed through his eyes as he stood up, "Let's go." I agreed, "Okay." Having parked the car at the front, the driver hurried to open the door for us.
I got in first, sliding to the far side, and turned to look out the window. Silence filled the ride.
Bryant handeda jewelry box as we neared the Larson Mansion. "For you." I opened it to find an emerald necklace inside, obviously expensive and a perfect match for my dress.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmWithout any fuss, I removed the necklace on my neck and tried to put the new one on. But, struggling to clasp it without seeing, I fumbled several times. Suddenly, a pair of large, dry hands took the necklace from me, fastening it behind my neck and sending shivers down my spine.
I couldn't help but ask, "Done yet?" He answered, "Done." As I finished speaking, Bryant let go, and the emerald pendant gently rested against my collarbone.
I glimpsed his wrist and inadvertently glanced sideways as Bryant withdrew his hands. He casually adjusted his shirt sleeve, covering the wound.
I asked, "Does it hurt?" Bryant smirked, seemingly unconcerned. "Not
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