CHAPTER 77: CHAPTER 77: WON’T END EASILY

For a moment, both of their breaths were slightly unsteady.

Poppy Hale hadn’t reacted when her lips and teeth were entirely imbued with Declan Hawthorne’s aura.

She couldn’t push him away.

Being kissed made her limbs go weak.

Declan Hawthorne grasped Poppy Hale’s waist, effortlessly lifting her onto the marble countertop.

Originally, Poppy Hale intended to iron clothes here.

Declan Hawthorne’s hand pinched the two fragile tendons at the back of her neck, reminding Poppy Hale of when she was a child and used to grip the nape of a cat’s neck to pick it up.

The cat wouldn’t resist.

Poppy Hale’s resisting movements were also very cat-like.

She reached out to push him.

Declan Hawthorne stopped and pulled off his tie, binding Poppy Hale’s hands behind her back.

As he stared at her, Poppy Hale felt as if he couldn’t wait to devour her.

An even more intense kiss descended, disrupting Poppy Hale’s breathing.

She was almost kissed to the point of suffocation.

Maybe she hadn’t had breakfast, and low blood sugar made her dizzy.

Or perhaps, being kissed left her oxygen-deprived, her brain had stopped functioning.

At this moment, she even forgot to push him away.

With the central air conditioning running, the room was a bit chilly, and the marble surface was cold.

The metal of the watch on the man’s wrist was also slightly cool.

When it touched Poppy Hale’s neck, she shrank back slightly.

Declan Hawthorne withdrew, unfastened his watch band, and casually tossed the Rolex aside.

Just as he was about to continue, the office door was knocked on.

Morgan Sloan’s voice.

"President Hawthorne, the representative from Melon Games has arrived. Should I arrange them in the conference room?"

There’s an important meeting today.

It’s related to when the game project in Poppy Hale’s hands can be launched.

In the small lounge, they could only hear each other’s voices for a moment.

Breathing, gasping, heartbeat, and the man’s tender persistence near Poppy Hale’s lips.

"Iron your clothes yourself. I’m going to the meeting."

"There’s breakfast outside. Eat it before you leave."

He untied the tie binding Poppy Hale’s wrists.

Fixed himself in the mirror.

Morgan Sloan urged again.

Declan Hawthorne opened the door, closed it, then opened the office door.

"Without my permission, no one is allowed in here."

"Understood, President Hawthorne."

Voices faded away.

Only then did Poppy Hale suddenly regain her senses.

She realized that her clothes had been unbuttoned, leaving several red marks on her chest, not sure when they were left.

She knew they were his fingerprints.

Her face flushed like the tide.

Fortunately, her clothes were a shirt dress. Once ironed and buttoned up to the top, no one would see anything.

Poppy Hale cursed Declan Hawthorne as a beast in her heart.

But she also knew, if Morgan Sloan hadn’t come just now...

She knew this side of Declan Hawthorne too well.

He wouldn’t have ended it easily.

Once her clothes were ironed and on, as Poppy Hale was about to leave, she saw the breakfast on the table — milk and a sandwich.

She didn’t eat it.

Even knowing no one was behind her, she still hurried.

She fled in defeat.

-

In the afternoon after work, Poppy Hale received a text message.

It was a detailed bill from Nolan Zane.

Due to his programmer’s habits, he was meticulous and sent over a spreadsheet.

Receipts or payment info followed all the details, ensuring everything was accurate.

The two caregivers were very attentive.

Occasionally, they’d cook and eat with the two elderly ladies.

Poppy Hale transferred the payment over.

Upon receiving it, Nolan Zane replied with a thank-you sticker from the boss.

The message notification indicated three, showing she’d received three messages.

Upon exiting Nolan Zane’s chat box, it was Mason Rivers.

"Poppy, I really apologize for what my sister did."

"I didn’t know she went so far, Declan has already fired her."

"Do you have a place to stay now? I have a vacant house, why don’t you move there?"

The matter of moving.

Poppy Hale hadn’t told many people, especially Mason Rivers, who had no idea where she lived.

Now, the reason Mason Rivers knew was quite obvious with a little thought.

Poppy Hale glanced over at the intern area in the back.

Rachel Rivers’s spot now had a slightly chubby girl with freckles on her face, smiling sweetly.

She worked efficiently, clearly grateful for the internship opportunity.

Declan Hawthorne fired Rachel Rivers.

Upon hearing the company name from Nolan Zane, he knew Rachel Rivers was plotting to make her homeless.

But she couldn’t understand.

What use was it for Rachel Rivers to cause her trouble?

Wasn’t liking and clinging to Declan Hawthorne enough?

Thinking of the person who knocked on the door that night, Poppy Hale felt a bit blocked in her heart.

More troubling was receiving continuous messages from strange numbers over several days.

"Will you really hold a grudge against me forever?"

"Poppy, we were clearly the best of friends."

"I’m marrying Sean, and I really hope you can come."

Following that was the hotel’s name, location, and banquet time.

Suppressing her nausea, Poppy Hale deleted and blocked them.

She had intended to warn Sean Lynch not to leak her number.

But then thought, newlyweds, no need to cause them trouble.

After all, Stella Hollis was pregnant.

Sean Lynch and Stella Hollis’s marriage, a second one.

The reason for his divorce from his first wife was Sean’s tendency to get physical when drunk.

Stella felt she was pursuing love.

Sean seemed to pamper his young wife.

But in reality, both their families were thorny bushes, tough to escape once inside.

Poppy Hale replied to Mason Rivers with a few lines, then put away her phone.

Clocking out, time to leave work.

-

CEO’s office.

After a day of meetings, upon returning to the office, it was deserted.

Declan Hawthorne casually picked up the breakfast on the desk.

The once warm sandwich and milk were now cold.

In the lounge, the iron and hairdryer were back in place.

Everything was tidied up neatly.

As if no one had ever lingered here.

Declan Hawthorne’s gaze darkened.

Holding the bag of breakfast, he returned to the leather chair, patiently unwrapping it to take a bite.

He took a photo and sent it to Poppy Hale.

"After a day of meetings, this is all I can eat."

Poppy Hale’s phone was with Florence Lynch, who was watching cartoons.

Seeing the message pop up, her little fingers tapped on it.

It jumped to WeChat.

Florence couldn’t type, only send voice messages.

"Uncle Hawthorne, you poor thing. Want to come to my house and let my mom cook for you?"

The little girl boldly invited Uncle Hawthorne.

At this moment, Poppy Hale was in her room drawing, rushing a draft, unaware her daughter had invited Declan Hawthorne over.

Declan Hawthorne tapped on the voice message, "Sure. But Uncle doesn’t know where Florence lives."

Of course, he knew.

If Poppy Hale hadn’t rushed during the contract signing and failed to request the property certificate info.

She would’ve realized then that the owner of this house was Declan Hawthorne.

He patiently taught the child how to send an address through WeChat.

Even Declan Hawthorne felt such actions seemed unethical.

Like the big bad wolf coaxing Little Red Riding Hood into revealing her address.

Morality, a bright moon on the horizon.

When clouded over, it’s invisible.

Ten minutes later.

The doorbell rang, and Declan Hawthorne appeared at Poppy Hale’s new house.

Which was also his house.