CHAPTER 9: CHAPTER 9: DOES YOUR HUSBAND KNOW ABOUT US?

Mason Rivers ordered a lot of takeout.

Rachel Rivers distributed it around, but no one in the secretary’s office accepted it; their eyes were only on work, and the high salary from the Hawthorne Group was enough for them to eat gourmet meals.

After Rachel got to work in the morning, she handled a report but it was full of errors. Morgan Sloan patiently taught her for half a day but found that her gaze was always on the elevator reserved for executives.

Morgan was irritated and put on a stern face, "No need, I’ll eat at the cafeteria."

Even though they didn’t accept it, Rachel didn’t seem to mind, and instead perked up, "Decl... President Hawthorne has had lunch, right? I’ll take something to him."

Morgan initially wanted to refuse.

On second thought, this woman keeps calling President Hawthorne ’Declan’, what if she really has some connection with him?

So he didn’t stop her and tacitly allowed Rachel to take the Japanese food up to the CEO’s office.

As she cheerfully left, a member of the secretary team opposite Morgan whispered, "I just delivered some documents, President Hawthorne seemed in a bad mood, and she just went up like that..."

Morgan chuckled meaningfully.

"At work, no one’s in a good mood."

"We don’t really know President Hawthorne’s character, someone probing it is just right."

The secretary beside let out a sharp breath, "So what if President Hawthorne gets angry?"

Morgan shrugged, spreading both hands, helplessly said, "Intern, reckless."

Everyone suddenly realized the reasoning, understanding now why a leader must have a dirty mind.

There was a reason Morgan became the head of the secretary team.

Knocking and entering, Rachel placed the Japanese food on the desk, "Declan, I ordered some lunch for you."

Declan Hawthorne looked up, frowning with displeasure, "Who let you in?"

"I came to deliver your lunch..."

"Leave. Take your food and get out."

His attitude was forceful, not to mention the hostility in his tone, just a glance was enough to make Rachel feel uneasy all over.

"Declan..."

Declan Hawthorne pressed his hand to his temple.

He lifted his hand, pressed the internal phone line for the secretary office and straightforwardly said, "How did she get up here? From now on, without my permission, no one is allowed to come up."

"Yes, President Hawthorne."

Unwillingly biting her lip, Rachel thought Declan Hawthorne was really fierce, even fiercer than she usually saw. Was it because work was going poorly?

He could at least talk to her about it.

Looking at the food, Declan Hawthorne said, "Take it away, I don’t eat raw fish."

"And mind your way of addressing me."

Rachel stood there, fully exuding a sense of grievance, her unwillingness and bitterness transforming into an awkward protest: "But before, when Poppy Hale got you sushi, you ate it..."

Smack—

The pen in his hand was slapped heavily onto the desk, Declan Hawthorne cast a cold glance over, "How exactly did you get into the Group? Did Mason help you cheat?"

The Rivers’s younger sister had no brains.

Declan Hawthorne genuinely wondered how she passed the exams to enter the group.

Flushed with shame and indignation, Rachel picked up the lunch on the desk and walked out with her head turned.

If he doesn’t like sushi, she’d bring a different dish tomorrow; surely one day Declan Hawthorne would look at her.

Wasn’t that how Poppy Hale did it before?

Persistent, she could do it too.

Heading downstairs with the meal, Rachel crossed paths with Poppy Hale.

She froze in place, turned and stared at the familiar back, her brow furrowing, her legs trembling.

Poppy Hale?

Why was she here as well? Was she really still alive? How could she be beside Declan Hawthorne?

Countless thoughts flashed through her mind.

Bumping into Morgan Sloan who came to meet her, Rachel followed behind Morgan, saying unexpectedly, "Is Poppy Hale also an employee here?"

"Yes, do you know her?"

Rachel didn’t directly answer, "I just saw her going into President Hawthorne’s office."

Morgan, unfazed, replied, "Oh, young Hale is the head of group three, probably went to report progress."

Tough work for young Hale.

At this time of noon, it seemed President Hawthorne wasn’t in a good mood, ran into a gun muzzle, but good thing young Hale has a nice personality, being interrupted during a meal probably wouldn’t make her angry.

Later, better find a time to console her.

This is also part of the secretary office’s job.

Hearing this name, Rachel’s heart couldn’t calm down.

Looking back at the office, she always felt that Poppy Hale might be doing something with Declan Hawthorne in the office...

Absolutely not.

"I’m going to the bathroom."

Morgan advised, "Don’t go upstairs, don’t run around."

With her hand over her stomach, Rachel ran.

Her footsteps quietly stopped outside the CEO’s office, waiting for Poppy Hale to come out and then quietly followed her.

Poppy Hale went into the storeroom.

Rachel was just about to follow when Morgan appeared, shouting, "Rachel, go print the materials for the afternoon meeting."

"Okay."

After Morgan urged a few more times, Rachel had to go print the materials, turning to see the storeroom door wasn’t open, so Rachel quietly walked up, locked the door from the outside, and left.

As she passed through the corridor, Rachel conveniently turned off the circuit breaker for the storeroom.

Hearing Poppy Hale scream from inside the storeroom, Rachel felt satisfied.

Inside the storeroom, Poppy’s vision abruptly went dark.

A suffocating feeling surged from all sides, as if there were countless hands in the darkness, choking her neck, depriving her of breath and senses, panic spread as Poppy Hale gasped for air.

Poppy Hale suffered from severe claustrophobia.

After her father passed away, she kept vigil alone, and her condition improved considerably.

She had thought she was cured.

Caught off guard, she realized she couldn’t breathe, her hands and feet went into erratic spasms, trembling all over.

She couldn’t even call for help; wanting to knock on the door to make a sound, but had no strength.

Suddenly, there was a hand around her waist, large and warm, as a man’s low voice softly called in her ear full of cold sweat, "Poppy Hale!"

"Poppy Hale, calm down!"

So familiar, such a familiar voice.

Who was shouting at her?

Poppy Hale, disoriented, like a drowning person grabbing driftwood, reached out and hugged the person’s neck, gasping, "Help me..."

Declan Hawthorne came in, originally intending to get more printing paper for his office.

The secretary’s office was on lunch break, so he came to get it himself.

Unexpectedly, Poppy Hale was also inside, let alone that someone closed the door and shut off the power, plunging the entire storeroom into darkness limiting visibility.

Hearing Poppy Hale’s voice, Declan Hawthorne realized Poppy Hale was there too.

He knew she had claustrophobia.

Poppy Hale slept with a night light on; she feared and hated completely dark environments, back then when they stayed together, Declan Hawthorne wouldn’t turn off the lights either.

He also preferred not to turn off the lights, he could see all the expressions on her face clearly.

But he didn’t know her phobia was this severe, the sound of her disordered breathing, gasping rang in his ear, Declan Hawthorne held Poppy Hale’s waist tightly.

His hand feeling for Poppy Hale’s face, kissing her, oxygen transferred from him to the other person’s lungs.

His body temperature was slightly high, his hand locked around Poppy Hale’s waist, only to feel now that she was alarmingly thin.

Her waist was so slender, even a bit upwards, he could touch the edge of her ribs.

Poppy Hale’s breath gradually eased but instead was replaced by intimate and incomplete kissing sounds, sticky and enchanting, hard to ignore.

She had no strength all over her body, also lost warmth, could only steady herself by borrowing Declan Hawthorne’s arm, leaning against the door.

Poppy Hale couldn’t see clearly, her mind dizzy, her ears ringing, but she knew she was kissed.

The person in front of her was Declan Hawthorne.

How could he.

He was clearly already married with a child; this was not the kind of intimacy a normal superior-subordinate relationship should have.

Declan Hawthorne’s eyesight was very good, if it wasn’t for the pressure from the Hawthorne Group, he could have passed the pilot’s exam back then.

He could clearly see her expression, her eyes glazed with water, shy and embarrassed, indignant, and angry, her eyes bright, yet because of fear, she still held tightly to his arm.

Such a gaze towards any man wouldn’t be peaceful.

Poppy Hale said with a hoarse voice, "President Hawthorne, you shouldn’t do this."

Declan Hawthorne raised an eyebrow, "Shouldn’t do what? You’re the one who asked me to save you, Poppy Hale."

It was her.

But it was an unconscious plea for help; she didn’t know who the person in front of her was either.

Even more alarming was Declan Hawthorne leaning down again, seemingly about to kiss again.

He was saving her.

Unsure if Poppy Hale would asphyxiate and run out of oxygen again, also because her current expression made him want to see more of her angry appearance.

Declan Hawthorne kissed her, a teasing laugh escaping between his lips and teeth.

"Does your husband know about us like this?"