Echoes of Unrequited Love

The matter of giving Cecilia a guide to winning Hilary’s favor was a private deal between us. Surprisingly, Hogan had gotten wind of it.

Ironically, in this guide, when it came to the section about food, I had emphasized repeatedly that Hilary hated white pepper.

I figured if Hogan had even skimmed through the guide, he’d see right through some of my thoughts.

However, my act of deliberately “confessing” had backfired, and I had slapped my own face.

I felt a tightness in my chest but managed to keep my cool, sneaking a glance at the guy a couple of steps away, without jumping in with a response.

When I think about it, that mother–daughter–in–law handbook was a good five or six pages long, with

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nitty–gritty details on Hilary’s do’s and don’ts, from eating to dressing to living. As the President of Rainbow Capital, he probably didn’t have the leisure to read it from beginning to end.

Maybe I was overthinking it.

Upon sorting it out, I felt somewhat steadier and said in a calm and collected tone, “Since Director Irwin joined, she’s done a lot for the company. Helping her means relieving your worries, doesn’t it, Mr. Zade?” Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Then keep relieving my worries,” The man’s voice became inexplicably more rigid, and colder, “Why are you playing both sides today?”

Upon hearing those words, ‘playing both sides‘, I instantly got the hint–Hogan was convinced I’d done the white pepper thing on purpose.

“I’ve got a question too,” I said, with a light smile and a soft voice, “Mr. Zade, why do you think I would do such a thing? What good does angering an investor’s mother do for me?”

At that, Hogan’s brows furrowed, and he took a step closer, giving me a hard stare, saying in a low voice, “Yeah, what’s in it for you, Ms. March? Don’t tell me you’re eyeing Mrs. Zade’s spot?”

Teasing intermixed with ridicule, Hogan’s tone was harsh, and those piercing eyes were inscrutable.

It made my heart flutter.

“Mr. Zade, you really have a knack for humor,” I dodged his gaze, trying to keep my tone as natural as possible, “If Director Irwin heard that, it could stir up some trouble.”

Before I could finish, he suddenly stepped even closer. Alerted, I took two steps back, finding myself pressed against the car door.

And Hogan was right before me.

◌ོ ཥ ༤ ◌ཻ࿄ ཝཿཆོ ༈ དྷ�ྡ ེ༈ �ེ�ྣཾ �ྜ ⪜�ྨ ༢ ༈

Under the dim light, his tobacco–scented breath filled the air, and he looked down at me, none too pleased, “What Ms. March wants, hasn’t she always used any means necessary to fight for it?”

His oppression made me feel uncomfortable.

My hand tightened, then loosened, then tightened again, only then I adjusted my breath to normal. And when I looked up at Hogan again, he was still all up in my grill.

Maybe he was sticking up for Cecilia?

With that thought, I gave a half–smile, mockingly saying, “Mr. Zade, you’re giving me too much credit. Someone like you is way out of my league.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, his facial muscles twitched, his pupils dilated, a mix of surprise and

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distaste crossed his face.

Had I misinterpreted? Hogan seemed displeased with this response.

“Alright, Xaviera,” he raised his arm, pointing a finger near my face, “You’d better remember what you sald today.”

He strode off, and I watched his retreating figure, finally allowing myself to breathe.

But why did I feel so empty all of a sudden?

Something was off with Hogan tonight.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t affect our cooperation.

With this doubt in mind, I nervously returned home to find a petite figure standing at my doorstep as soon as I stepped out of the elevator.

The young lady was holding a small gift box, looking at the number on my door.

It was Cecilia.

Quite unexpected.

She should know better; we’re not exactly on house–calling terms.

As I composed myself and was just about to speak, Cecilia who heard my footsteps immediately turned around and said with a smiling face, “Xaviera, you’re back.”

Her voice was as always, soft and soothing.