Chapter 339 Sarah Was Terrified
Evergreen City, the ArtScape Academy.
The evening sky was painted with crimson clouds, glowing with a golden hue.
Sarah strolled out of the campus, rocking a white blouse and a short skirt. Her long legs were turning heads, but she didn't even notice.
At the entrance of ArtScape Academy, there was a bus stop.
A bus was slowly rolling up. Sarah took a step forward, ready to hop on.
But then, a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up beside her. The window rolled down halfway, revealing a familiar, distinguished face—it was Oliver.
Sarah froze, instinctively taking a step back.
Oliver leaned over and popped open the car door, staring at her. "Get in," he said.
The bus behind them was honking, and all the students around were watching.
Sarah bit her lip and bent down to get into the car. As soon as she was in, a strong arm reached over her, gently closing the door.
He was just wearing a white shirt, and as he moved, his arm brushed against Sarah's sensitive skin.
Sarah's face turned as red as a tomato.
The car started moving, and the driver up front asked, "Mr. Windsor, where to?"
Oliver looked down at Sarah. He could see right through her. She felt a bit wronged, her eyes turning red. "I want to go home," she said.
Oliver chuckled and told the driver, "Take Ms. Miller home."
Sarah immediately curled up to one side. After a while, she asked, "How do you know where I live?"
Oliver didn't answer; he just kept staring at her.
No young girl could handle the gaze of a mature, distinguished man, especially one as handsome as him. Sarah's cheeks turned red as she shrank back into the leather seat, her eyes welling up, refusing to speak to him any further.
In her heart, Sarah decided to draw a clear line with him. He was too mysterious.
No matter how naive Sarah was, she could sense that Oliver beside her was very dangerous.
"Are you mad?" Oliver chuckled again. He leaned over, grabbed a bottle of milk from the front compartment, stuck a straw in it, and handed it to Sarah. "Little girls love this."
Sarah turned her face away. "I don't want it. I'm not mad."
"Not mad? Then why are your eyes red, like a little bunny?" Oliver raised his hand, looking like he wanted to touch her eyes.
In the dim car, she stared at his handsome face, forgetting to react.
But his hand stopped. Then, he brought the bottle of milk to her lips, coaxing her like a child. "The straw's already in, drink it! After dropping you off, I still have to go back to the office for a meeting."
Sarah softly said she wanted to get out of the car.
A hand gently held hers, and she was startled like a little bunny.
Sarah wanted to pull away but didn't dare to be too obvious. She was afraid the driver up front would notice, which would be too embarrassing.
Oliver stopped her. Her nose turned red with embarrassment; she looked like she was about to cry.
Oliver held her hand tightly. Her palm was small and soft. He said in a low voice, "I got the suit you sent over, so I came to pick you up. Why didn't you return it to me in person?"
He knew the answer. Didn't he like someone else? Why was he asking her this? Sarah wondered.
Even if Sarah was naive, she could tell he was doing it on purpose. He was teasing her, like she was some kind of pet. But she wasn't his pet!
Sarah was both embarrassed and angry, refusing to speak to him any further.
Oliver didn't tease her again, but he didn't let go of her hand either. He held it in his palm. The milk she didn't drink, he held in his other hand. They sat side by side in the luxurious car, looking like a perfect pair—a handsome man and a beautiful woman.
Over time, Sarah's palm got all sweaty.
When she got out of the car, she bolted.
Back home, the maid Brooke Foster saw Sarah's red face and looked downstairs, spotting Oliver standing by the car. The car was super fancy, and he was very handsome.
Oliver was mature and good-looking, clearly wealthy, but he had to be around 30 years old.
Brooke didn't meddle too much in Sarah's affairs.
While tidying up clothes, Brooke casually said, "Dylan mentioned before that you're still young and not ready for dating. I think so too. Men nowadays can be really bad, especially rich ones. They go after pretty young girls, and after a year or so, when the novelty wears off, they move on to the next one."
Sarah got what Brooke was hinting at.
She said in a small voice, "He's not my boyfriend. He's the one who saved Daniela last time!"
Brooke paused, then continued her work efficiently. She said, "Then you should be even more careful! Even if it's to repay a debt of gratitude, it should be Daniela. How did he get involved with you?"
Sarah sipped her drink, not daring to say more.
But from that day on, Oliver would pick her up from school every day.
At first, he just took her home. A week later, he invited her to dinner, booking the entire top-floor restaurant. Standing by the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows, they could see the Ferris wheel in the distance, gently rolling with neon lights.
Sarah, used to being lonely, liked having company.
Oliver, impeccably dressed, held a coffee mug, standing by her side, watching the city's lights with her.
At 10 PM, cheers came from downstairs.
Suddenly, a kiss landed on her lips.
Sarah froze, and then her hand was held by Oliver with one hand.
Oliver turned, set down the coffee mug, removed his gold-rimmed glasses, and leaned in to claim Sarah's first kiss. The faint scent of rose petals tempted him to kiss her deeply, over and over again.
He gently clasped her hands, raising them, pressing her against the cold glass.
Their bodies pressed together, and the intense masculine presence made her body go weak, unable to move or resist.
Sarah trembled as she called him, "Mr. Windsor!"
Oliver's thin lips lightly touched her tender neck, his voice low, "Call me Oliver."
Sarah was terrified.
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