Chapter 9
The man turned his head slowly. His face was stunningly handsome yet had a cold expression. He slightly raised his eyelids, revealing his deep, bewitching eyes.
The small mole on the corner of his right eye added a touch of exoticness to this face.
It’s him!
The man who forcibly kissed her that night!
Claire’s pupils constricted, and she suddenly clutched the knife in her cuff. Thinking of her lost first kiss, she stared murderously at him.
But at this moment, Hunter was squinting his long, narrow eyes, looking at her with interest.
With his thin lips slightly hooked, he suddenly smiled. “My fiancée… is actually a little girl?”
Didn’t he recognize her?
Claire frowned.
The man leaned lazily against the desk, playing with a pen in his hand. He raised his chin, like a condescending king, and said slowly, “Since it’s an arranged marriage, I can give you everything you want, except…”
His voice suddenly turned icy, so was his expression. “Except for love.”
He must be crazy. Who wants his love? !
1
Claire had run out of patience. “Is there anything else? I have to go now.”
Hunter pursed his thin lips, seemingly unsatisfied with her reaction. He cocked his finger at her and said in a domineering tone, “Come here.”
What does he want to do?
Claire was instantly alert, staring at the man with a keen gaze, and moved over slowly.
She closed the distance between them but stopped a few feet away. The man picked up a business card and threw it in her arms.
He commanded. “Remember my number.”
However, without even looking at it, Claire crumbled the business card into a ball and threw it into the trash can. “No need.”
Hunter’s eyes turned cold and he stared at this rebellious girl in front of him. The next second, however, he suddenly leaned forward and held Claire’s chin.
His thin lips hooked slightly, and he gave a cold smile with a dangerous air.
“Little thing, you are the first woman who dared to refuse me. Stop playing hard to get. Don’t think that I will take the initiative to ask for your number.”
4
A hint of disgust flashed across Claire’s indifferent eyes. “Don’t touch me.”
She pushed the man’s hand away, too lazy to talk nonsense with him. Claire turned around and left the study right after.
Mr. Hopkins had been waiting outside, and when he saw Claire come out, he immediately stepped forward and said, “I’ll have someone to send you home.”
Seeing the girl’s face all dark, he smiled awkwardly and said, “If Mr. Johnson said something wrong, please don’t mind. I think you must have heard that Mr. Johnson had a car accident two years ago, and since then, he suffers from mild… paranoia and cognitive disorder. His behavior has become slightly different from ordinary people.”
To put it bluntly, didn’t that mean he was a psycho?
Claire still looked gloomy, and without a word, she stepped out of the gate. But she suddenly seemed to think of something. She paused, and turned her head to ask him. “Does Mr. Johnson have any enemies?”
She had to figure it out. She didn’t want to put herself in danger.
Mr. Hopkins was puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“The other night, I saw a group of people chasing him.”
Hearing Claire’s words, Mr. Hopkins suddenly smiled. “Oh, you misunderstood. The people who were chasing him were actually his bodyguards. Mr. Johnson suddenly disappeared that night. I was worried about his safety, so I sent some people to find him.”
The corner of Claire’s mouth twitched.
She thought he was being hunted down.
So he staged that incident?
Sure enough… he was a serious psycho!
After sending Claire away, Mr. Hopkins went back to the study only to see Hunter standing with his hands behind his back. His face was dark and his voice cold. “Within three minutes, find out the phone number of that little thing.”
5
“…”
Mr. Hopkins was speechless.
Why didn’t you ask her for her number just now?
1
And what’s the point of asking me to find it out after she left?
——
After Claire returned to the Smiths’ mansion, she entered the studio on the second floor.
She saw a few famous paintings hanging here before, with unique structures and bright colors. She was quite interested in them.
When she prepared to take a closer look, a sharp voice broke the silence.
“What are you doing?!”
Phoebe rushed in, directly standing in front of the paintings as if declaring her sovereignty.
Claire coldly glanced at her but didn’t intend to respond.