CHAPTER 140: CHAPTER 140: HE HAD ULTERIOR MOTIVES

Even if it meant reaching out and leaving.

It still brought a curve to Declan Hawthorne’s lips.

"Then I won’t go up, I’ll take you home first."

The heavy dew of late autumn.

Declan wore a dark coat, with a very artistic shirt underneath, a few tassels hanging down.

Florence reached out and grabbed them, and Declan easily picked her up, lifting her up several times, making the little girl giggle.

Florence really enjoyed being with Declan.

Sometimes, she even became quite clingy to him.

After getting in the car, Florence sat in the back seat’s child seat reading a book.

While chatting with Poppy Hale.

"What did Grandma Big Bear and Mom talk about just now when they were speaking alone?"

Poppy sat with Florence in the back seat, and as soon as Florence asked, she felt Declan’s gaze through the rear-view mirror also fall on her.

There was a hint of tension in the man’s gaze.

Poppy raised an eyebrow, "It wasn’t alone, Grandpa Hawthorne was there too."

"Tell me, Mom, what did you and Grandma Big Bear talk about?"

"That’s Mommy’s little secret, I can’t tell you."

Florence was curious, but since her mother wouldn’t say, there was nothing she could do.

She wanted to pout and act cute but restrained by the child seat, she just pursed her little lips.

Her eyes darted around.

"Uncle Hawthorne, why don’t you ask Mommy?"

"If I ask, will your mom tell me?"

Florence nodded repeatedly, "Grandma Big Bear is your mom, and I want to know the secret talk between your mom and my mom."

Declan smirked.

His voice was deep and pleasant, "You asked your mom and she didn’t say, my mom probably wouldn’t tell me either."

Florence looked a bit disappointed, turning her head away.

She declared she would break up with Declan and Poppy for one minute!

But not even a minute passed before she forgot about it and resumed looking at her picture book.

Florence, much like Poppy in her childhood, loved all sorts of colorful picture books.

The last time they took her to an art exhibit, she seemed to enjoy it immensely.

It reminded Poppy of when Florence was younger, and they went for her second check-up.

The doctors asked questions, and Florence seemed unresponsive. Both Poppy and the doctor thought the child might have some issues.

But who would have thought after they walked out, Florence clung to her neck and asked, "Mom, was that uncle a bad guy? Why did he ask me so many questions about our family? I know everything, but I won’t tell him!"

At that time, Poppy wondered whom Florence got this part of her personality from.

Not from her, so it must have been from the child’s father.

Earlier, Jackie Barrett’s words were still echoing in Poppy’s mind.

From Jackie, she sensed goodwill.

The goodwill she showed.

Came from Declan, came from Florence, yet all of it was reflected back onto her.

The tranquil lake that was Poppy’s heart had ripples stirred by the stones cast by Jackie.

-

After returning home, Truth Hale wasn’t there.

She left a message, saying she was going to the hospital for a check-up, and would stay overnight at a friend’s place.

Lately, Truth had been in a much better mood.

For matters concerning the Hale Group, she even began reconnecting with old friends, occasionally attending some tea parties.

Poppy was happy to see her this way.

Truth had always been someone who enjoyed venturing outside.

Now that her health had improved slightly and the Hale Group’s matters were finally seeing the dawn of hope, she found some motivation in life.

Declan followed Poppy into the house.

"Is there anything to eat at home?"

"You didn’t have dinner?"

Declan shook his head.

"Actually, I didn’t have lunch either."

Upon hearing this, Poppy opened the fridge, took out some ingredients, and headed for the kitchen.

"Florence and I have already eaten, you can just have something light."

"Mm, anything is fine."

Her demeanor was natural, as if everything she did was the most ordinary thing in the world, cooking a bowl of noodles casually.

It wouldn’t take much time.

Florence went to the bedroom to read.

Declan leaned against the refrigerator door.

The deep black mirrored fridge, a six-figure cost, became just a backdrop for him.

The coat was taken off, casually draped over the sofa’s armrest.

Declan’s gaze stayed on Poppy’s figure.

The apron tied at the back, cinching the dress to emphasize a slender waist.

Hair fell casually behind her ears, the raven strands contrasting against the alabaster skin, like two extremes.

Flames licked the bottom of the pot, the exhaust fan’s quiet hum became a rare sound in the kitchen.

She could even crack an egg with one hand, her cooking movements skillful.

Declan moved forward, took the eggshells from Poppy’s hand, and tossed them into the bin, then wiped the egg whites off her fingers with a paper towel.

He pressed himself against her back, wrapping his arms around Poppy.

As soon as she dropped the noodles in, Poppy froze.

"What are you doing?"

"What did my mom say to you?"

Stunned for a moment.

Poppy stirred the noodles in the pot with chopsticks, staring at the boiling broth.

Casually said, "Your mom offered me five million to cut all ties with you."

Declan frowned.

Quickly relaxed.

He knew his mother wasn’t that kind of person.

His fingers wrapped around Poppy’s hair, Declan replied, "Oh, did you ask if she paid taxes on it?"

"No, I’ll ask next time."

Turning off the stove, she scooped out the noodles, but he was still pressed against her.

Poppy grumbled, "Declan, let go."

"First tell me, what did my mom say to you?"

"Go ask your mom yourself."

Declan chuckled softly, his magnetic voice lingering by her ear.

His wide hand slid along Poppy’s flat stomach.

The scorching warmth from his palm made Poppy shiver.

Her body trembled slightly.

Declan turned her around, setting her on a narrow ledge originally meant for spice jars beside the counter.

She worried about falling, and could only cling tightly to Declan’s neck.

His knee nudged her legs apart, his presence suddenly overwhelming.

He bent down, nearing her lips.

His voice a low murmur.

"Then I’ll give you ten million to refuse her, okay?"

As soon as the words fell, so did his kiss.

For a moment, Poppy was dazed.

This man, every time he kissed her, liked to use this position.

Anyone who didn’t know might think he had some special fondness for counters or sinks.

Poppy’s limbs softened, her voice too.

"I, I have a boyfriend."

The moment she said it, she herself found it absurd.

A similar excuse as when she once said she was married.

Declan chuckled lightly.

His advances undeterred, his breath blending, his voice thick with emotion.

"Do you want to invite your boyfriend to join us?"

Poppy punched Declan several times.

Pervert.

A moment later.

Florence called out for Poppy from the bedroom.

Interrupting them, breaking the spell of passion and confusion.

Poppy hastily pushed Declan away, splashing cold water on her face before entering the bedroom.

Seeing the noodles she had dished out, Declan checked them, then picked up the still hot bowl.

The noodles were slightly mushy now.

The kissing had gone on too long.

Yet Declan, seemingly unaware, didn’t mind at all and ate heartily.

If not for Florence’s call just now.

Something unexpected might have happened.

Declan understood clearly.

There was no ’might have,’ no unexpected.

He had always intended for things to go this way.