CHAPTER 46: CHAPTER 46: SHE MISSES HIM

"Pervert, don’t touch me!"

Sophia Lowell hugged the bag in her hands, looking dazedly at the man in front of her.

"Tsk—"

Sean Farrell was standing a meter away from her, holding his waist, brows furrowed, afraid to get close.

Until Zane Sterling’s car pulled up by the roadside.

He ran over, staring at the drunken Sophia—and the flush on her neck.

Sophia spread her arms and wrapped them around his waist. "Zane..."

Zane froze for a second, his big hands hurriedly catching her slender waist, steadying her. "What’s wrong?"

Zane gently patted her head, and saw her bare feet, so he picked her up.

"Cousin, you married a real good wife." Sean Farrell pointed at Sophia, then showed his slightly scraped arm and side to him. "You called me so I came right away. Saw her sitting here alone, went over to ask if she’s okay, and she flipped me over her shoulder."

"Didn’t ask you," Zane said.

"..." Sean swallowed hard.

"He said twenty thousand a month, wants me to keep him company..." Sophia muttered hazily, pointing at Sean Farrell.

Zane’s face darkened, his eyes clouded over.

"I’m innocent! Cousin! I’m not taking the blame for this!" Sean hurriedly retreated two steps. When he was a kid and misbehaved, the whole block heard about Zane dislocating his arm—Zane was cold-blooded by nature, if he got mad things would get ugly.

"Fine, don’t take the blame—just go back right now and check it out. Ten minutes, no results, and you’ll have a wheelchair tomorrow." Zane’s face was icy cold.

"Got it!" Sean took off like a rocket, running back fast.

Zane glanced at the high heels on the bench and walked over.

With two long fingers, he hooked up the heels, trying to grab the bag from her hands, but she hugged it tight to her chest.

"Hey, let go, I’ll help you," Zane lowered his voice.

"No, it’s his. You can’t take it."

His? Which ’his’?

Sophia clutched the bag to her chest, curled up against his torso, breathing in that reassuring scent.

He didn’t say a word, and started heading back to the car.

——

He gently laid her on the bed—she was already out cold from drinking.

Zane placed the bag she was holding to the side and saw her jacket inside.

He didn’t rummage through it, just went to the bathroom to get her some hot water, removed her makeup, and wiped the lipstick marks off her neck.

That was when he noticed the pearl necklace around her neck, and the earrings on her ears.

These were Grandma Sterling’s things, kept for the Sterling family’s lady of the house. Grandpa Sterling hadn’t given them to Zoe Walsh—he gave them to Sophia.

He carefully took them off.

She was quiet, not causing any trouble.

So different from that other night.

That night, after she got in the car, she started acting like she was Henry Quinn—kissing him while crying, saying whatever Sienna Lawson could give, she could give too.

It broke his heart. He sat in the car, didn’t move an inch, just let her do as she pleased.

Later, halfway through the drive, she cried so much there were no tears left. She started kicking and punching Zane, cursing Henry Quinn’s ancestors eighteen generations back.

In the end, she tore his shirt—the buttons are still missing somewhere in the car.

After all the crying and cursing, she collapsed in Zane’s arms, holding him tight and refusing to let go.

He’d planned to take her home, but she stubbornly refused to let go of his hand.

Said he smelled nice, and his abs looked good...

Her little hands weren’t exactly well-behaved...

——

The next morning, around ten, she groggily crawled out of bed.

Blanked out—couldn’t remember how she’d gotten home.

After washing up, she grabbed her phone and headed downstairs.

Her head ached, all she wanted was some water.

"Aunt Sutton, I want steak for lunch, thank you," she said, slumping over the table, eyes half-closed.

A glass of honey water slid in front of her—she said thank you without hesitation, gulping it down fast.

After a while, she paused and asked, "He still hasn’t come back?"

Right after she said it, a sandwich was pushed her way.

Warm breath laced with a faint scent of sandalwood enveloped her.

"Who?" Zane curled his lips into a smile.

Just like Ethan Sinclair said—she missed him.

He could tell she might maybe like him a little now.

Sophia turned her head and saw Zane leaning right beside her.

He was wearing plain home clothes, all black, tall and straight—so handsome it made her blush.

He stood by the marble dining table, only half an arm’s length from Sophia, those perceptive eyes gazing at her intently.

Her heart was in chaos—the little coals inside her were suddenly set on fire, burning hotter and hotter.

Her earlobes flushed, the blush creeping up her cheeks.

The cup in her hands gripped tighter.

She had a bad feeling... "You brought me home last night?"

"Yeah." His hands resting on the marble, watching her seriously.

"And you changed my clothes?"

"Yeah."

She shot him a mortified look, wanted to escape, but didn’t dare.

Biting her lip, she asked, "Did we... you know..."

She paused, couldn’t get the words out.

"You’re asking if we did it?"

"..."

The blush spread to the roots of her ears.

He leaned in close to her ear, his voice low and raspy, as if raw.

"So, do you wish we did? Or that we didn’t?" His hot breath brushed over her.

Sophia reached out, covered his chatty mouth, pushed him away. "I don’t know..."

Crap, her palm touched his lips—they were warm and damp.

He smiled, held her hand, and kissed the back of it, "Relax, if you don’t agree, I won’t touch you."

Sophia felt the back of her hand burning, quickly pulled it back. She was a little disappointed, but didn’t dare show it.

What made her even more nervous was that she was wearing a black camisole with padded cups, the silky fabric clinging to her body, accentuating her elegant, feminine curves.

He really had an eye for picking clothes...

Although it wasn’t as revealing as the other night, it was still enough for him to see right through her.

Soft and innocent, yet just sexy enough, and matched perfectly with his black loungewear.

Zane noticed her little look, chuckled and turned away, "Aunt Sutton took a week off. There’s not much in the fridge. Let’s go to the supermarket together later."

"Okay." She gnawed on the sandwich, spat out that bland little word.

Awkwardly she grabbed her phone, pretended to be busy, only to see Ethan Sinclair’s midnight message from last night.

[You’re the first person to call and scold the boss. 👍] - Ethan

[What kind of crazy stuff did I do last night?]

She bit her lip, sneaked a look at Zane, but he didn’t seem mad at all.

[You did great, boss-lady! After half a month of overtime, you finally get some rest.]

So, him living at the office lately was because he was busy, not dodging her?

But he couldn’t even send a WhatsApp message? Wouldn’t even know if his wife ran off with someone.

"Is work really busy lately?" Sophia broke the awkward silence.

"Some issues with finance, and no designer yet."

Zane took steak out of the freezer to thaw.

Designer—he was still looking for that ’scatterbrain.’

"Is the company going bankrupt? Do you need help?" she asked.

Not that she could actually help—she wasn’t from a rich family.

No wonder so many successful people marry for business. It’s about stability, or having backup when trouble hits, sometimes just a little extra security.

"Bankrupt?" He grinned.

What was she thinking? Financial trouble means bankruptcy? She must read too many novels.

"If we go bankrupt, you gonna run off?" Zane wiped down the stove.

"We can run off together." Sophia chugged the last of her milk.

Zane was totally amused by her.

After breakfast, she took her dish to the sink to wash.

"I’ll do it." Zane took the dish and cup from her hands.

The effortless motion made Sophia feel like they’d been living together forever.

But even that little gesture made her heart race wildly.

"Thank you."

"Mm."