Chapter 28
Blanca’s eyes betrayed an unmistakable adoration. Back in collage, she had a crush on Sullivan. But her affection was insignificant among the throngs of elite heiresses.
Sullivan sat down opposite her
Bianca offered a slight smile, adopting her professional demeanor, “Now that Megan has returned, she’ll be taking over these matters. Mr. Lowry, do I still need to keep track of Megan’s living expenses and jewelry purchases?”
Sullivan brised at her words.
Megan’s reasons for wanting a divorce echoed in his head the same trivial matters.
Seeing his silence, Bianca took the initiative. “Don’t worry, Mr. Lowry. Il manage everything smoothly”
Sullivan watched her quietly. He was a man of keen perception, always aware of which women fancied him or had designs on him. He never minded before because it never interfered with his life.
But now, Bianca was overstepping.
After a half–minute of contemplation, Sullivan spoke in an even tone, “Next month, you’re relocating to our Canadian branch. Your position and salary will remain unchanged.”
Bianca was stunned. After a moment, she forced a rigid smile. “Mr. Lowry, I have a boyfriend now!”
Sullivan remained silent.
Bianca clenched her teeth. “Next month, Mr. Lowry, you’ll receive my wedding invitation!”
This time, Sullivan lazily rose to his feet. “I’ll look forward to your good news then.”
Bianca trembled all over, fully aware that Sullivan had seen through her feelings. He would not allow her to harbor such feelings for him. She couldn’t help but ask, “Mr Lowry, is it because of Megan?”
Sullivan paused in his tracks. After a moment, his voice carried a stern edge as he said, “No! It’s because you’ve crossed the line.”
What he needed was a competent secretary, not a flirtatious siren. Bianca seemed to have never understood that.
Megan had been in and out of consciousness for most of the day, waking up as dusk was settling in.
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the soft light filtering through the curtains.
She sat up, feeling weak, and noticed the ivory silk nightgown she was wearing. It must have been Sullivan who changed her into it… The memories of the drunken night flooded back.
In the car, he played with her body.
He carried her upstairs and, in his impatience, didn’t even wait to reach the bedroom to slide off her stockings. Her legs were wrapped around his waist. The belt buckle was uncomfortable, and in her hazy state, she had reached for it…
Megan covered her face with her hands. She didn’t want to remember and even less to face it.
At the bedroom door, Sullivan stood silently watching her. He had been in a two–hour video conference earlier, so he was dressed in formal attire, a crisp white shirt and black trousers, the picture of sophistication.
After the meeting, he found Megan awake and lost in thought
Guessing what she might be contemplating, Sullivan spoke flatly, “Nothing happened! Drunk as you were, what could have happened?”
Megan was a woman, and her body told her that Sullivan wasn’t lying.
During the silent standoff, a servant brought up some nourishing soup. The servant was savvy, sensing the tension and flashing a placating smile. “Ma’am, you’ve been ill, and sir has been so worried! He ordered us this morning to prepare something warming for you. A fish soup – nothing better. You should wash up and have some while it’s hot. It’ll make you feel better”
In front of the servant, Megan couldn’t lose face.
Sullivan had her figured out, taking the tray from the servant. “You can leave us!”
The servant scured away
Sullivan closed the door, placed the tray on the small round table in the bedroom, and then looked at Megan, “Aren’t you getting up? Or do you expect me to feed you?”
His tone was harsh; he was still folding a grudge over her drunken confessions from the night before.
Chopter
