Back when Gregory lived in this villa alone, the garden had only a few pines and oaks–lush, but dull. Cold, even.
Then Anathea moved in. Little by little, the garden began to bloom with flowers of all kinds. Every plant in the flowerbed came from her hands.
He could still picture her tending them. Her head was slightly lowered, and her long lashes fluttered under the sun. She looked so beautiful it made him want to claim her for himself.
Gregory wanted Anathea to look at him that way. But ever since she told him she no longer loved him, she hadn’t shown that expression in front of him.
Anathea had always been someone who felt things deeply. She showed tenderness to so many–Jenny, who worked night shifts; the maids who shoveled snow in the dead of winter; and even these flowers, which couldn’t speak.
But she didn’t feel for Gregory anymore.
And that stung.
However, the way she looked at those flowers with such tenderness was simply beautiful. Her eyes were clear and luminous, and every movement stirred something deep within him.
Gregory’s eyes darkened. Then he approached her from behind.
His footsteps grew louder and faster. Before Anathea could even turn around, she was swept up straight into his arms.
She gasped and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. When their eyes met, her brow furrowed. “Put me down.”
“Call me ‘honey‘, and I’ll put you down,” Gregory said with a smirk.
“Gregory!” She dug her fingers into his shoulder. Her nails scratched hard enough to leave three red marks.
But Gregory didn’t even flinch. His grin only widened. “I told you, call me ‘honey‘, and I’ll put you down.”
He was utterly shameless. Anathea glared at him and asked in disbelief, “Have you lost your mind?”
“Probably. Guess I’ll need your help to find it,” Gregory replied smoothly.
Anathea was rendered speechless.
Thank God Xander was already in bed and Jenny wasn’t around. Otherwise, she would be utterly embarrassed. Gregory was acting like he’d completely lost his mind. Had he gotten drunk at Drunk Elysium with those women? But she didn’t smell any alcohol on him. Did he drink some kind of fake booze?
While Anathea was still trying to figure it out, Gregory finally set her down on the bench by the front door.
As he leaned over to swap out his shoes, he suddenly asked, “Annie, you’re still mad at me, aren’t you?”
She froze.
The question hit her straight on without any buildup. It was aimed precisely to catch the flicker of emotions in her eyes while she was unguarded.
Surprise attacks were classic tactics at the negotiation table. And now, he was using them on her.
Anathea smiled. “Of course not. You’re overthinking it. Why would I be mad at you, Mr. Sinclair?”
She called him Mr. Sinclair- so distant. If that wasn’t proof she was still angry, he didn’t know what was.
Gregory loosened his tie. “If you weren’t mad, then why’d you go out for ravioli?”
1/2
Xapter 201
+25 BONUS
Anathea’s face remained neutral “I was having dinner with a frie. Is that a problem?
Gregory didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in and suddenly slid his hand into the pocket of her crat
Anathea’s eyes widened.
She wasn’t wearing many layers today. Through the thin fabric, the warmth of his fingers seeped straight into her skin. The subtle touch sent a flush through her entire body. Instinctively, she reached out to grab his hand and stop him.
“What are you doing?” Her tone was wary, and the look in her eyes was guarded.
The next second, Gregory suddenly withdrew his hand, not continuing on recklessly the way she’d assumed he would. Instead, he pulled out her phone from her pocket.
He glanced down. The screen was pitch black. It was turned off.
