Chapter 33
But Francis simply answered, "There's no bother. If it's unbearable, just call me." He conspicuously avoided any mention of marriage. Glancing at his watch, he added, "I have to go. Chloe, you should get some rest."
In the solitude of the room, it was down to just Chloe and her maid.
Chloe collapsed despondently onto the bed, her face a portrait of despair. "Xenia, did you hear him just now? What did he say?"
'I should stop meeting Harper if I'm unhappy?
'His words were a hair's breadth away from outright banning me from seeking out Harper.
'Has Harper become so important in his heart?
'More important than me?'
Chloe's breaths quickened, her frail countenance twisting with emotion.
Xenia quickly wrapped an arm around Chloe's shoulder, comforting her. "Miss, don't take it to heart. If Mr. Getty didn't spell it out, that means there's still hope. You must keep your composure."
"How can I stay calm?" Chloe's complexion was terrible, and her voice trembled, "That woman is pregnant."
Xenia's sharp, angular eyes gleamed menacingly. "Are you sure?"
"I'm positive she's pregnant." Chloe's tears kept falling. "Xenia, what am I going to do?"
A sly smirk flickered at the corner of Xenia's eyes. "Well, the problem would disappear if she has a miscarriage."
"But I'm afraid Francis will find out. He doesn't trust me the way he used to."
"Miss, the lowest move is to get your own hands dirty. You need to learn to delegate and to keep yourself out of the mire," Xenia said with a hint of dark wisdom.
Then, Xenia's gaze fell on Chloe's neck, where a patch of red had been exposed when she had moved too abruptly, giving her an unintentionally seductive appearance.
Xenia advised, "Miss, don't meet with Mr. Getty for the next few days."
Chloe was taken aback. "Why?"
"Men prefer women who are pure. If he sees your neck, do you think he'd still want to marry you?" Xenia pointed out bluntly.
At that, Chloe, in a fit of rage, swept the things from her desk onto the floor.
Her features were stunningly beautiful, and her figure was curvy in all the right places.
'Yet, why wouldn't Francis be intimate with me?
'To convince Harper that Francis and I fooled around, I had to hurt myself to make bruises on my neck. It hurt so badly.'
Heeding Xenia's reminder, she picked up her phone and dialed, "Hey, is this Amelia? Sorry, I've been quite busy lately. Could you bring over that investment proposal you mentioned last time for me?"
...
After an unpleasant parting that day, Harper hadn't seen Francis for a week.
Abigail did come to check on her. When she asked about Francis, Harper managed to brush it off since she didn't want to drive a wedge between mother and son.
Today was the day to get her stitches removed, and early in the morning, Abigail called to say she'd drive her to the hospital.
Shortly after, Auntie called Harper downstairs.
Harper had barely reached the bottom when she spotted the man waiting at the door.
Dressed in a dark suit, he remained composed while on the phone. In the daylight, the jeweled cufflinks emitted an eerie blue light, lending him an air of elegance reminiscent of a nobleman.
'This is Francis, calm and self-possessed, refined and noble.
'As long as he doesn't get angry, he won't tear off his mask.'
Harper narrowed her eyes and carefully guarded her heart.
Francis saw her down and hung up the phone, "Mom needed to handle something urgent, so she asked me to pick you up."
"Don't bother. I can do it alone." Harper didn't really want to go with him.
"I have to answer to her," Francis said lightly and turned to leave.
'Who does he have to answer to? Abigail, of course.'
Harper followed him and got into the car. Both of them sat in the back row, quiet all the way. There seemed to be an invisible line between them, and no one would cross it.
However, the cold scent still permeated the car.
'Still smells good,' Harper thought.
She didn't think she would have much of a chance to smell it in the future, so she stopped restraining herself and closed her eyes to her heart's content.
Soon, they arrived at the hospital.
Francis walked ahead of her as they entered, his cell phone vibrating.
He pulled it out, and Harper lifted her eyes to see Chloe's name. Her heart soured for a few seconds, and then she retracted her eyes and walked past him.
'After all, Chloe's calls are something he'll never reject, and they will talk for a long time.'
But the next second, the ringing stopped, and Francis came sprinting over, reaching out to caress Harper's hair. He said, as he always did, "Why are you running so fast?"
Harper stiffened so much that she ignored Francis' gentle head-butt.
'Did he hang up on Chloe?
'How's that possible?
'It was Chloe's call!
'The girl he doted for so long.
'Unless, of course, I was mistaken, it probably wasn't Chloe calling.'
But soon, Francis’s cell phone vibrated again.
This time, Harper could see clearly that the caller was "Chloe."
In the next second, the man's long fingers didn't hesitate to cut it off and mute it.
'How is this possible?' Harper froze in surprise until Francis pinched her face with some amusement.
"What's the holdup?" Harper snapped back to her senses. She turned her head awkwardly and said nothing.
'Maybe the two of them were messing around. I shouldn't have thought much of it,' Harper thought.
Francis glanced at his fingertips, his gaze intensifying.
Entering the room, Harper saw the words 'Special VIP Clinic' written on the desk and thought she had gone into the wrong room.
She remembered that a nurse could handle a small thing like removing stitches.
Just as she tried to get up, she heard a familiar and flirty voice, "Little Harper, sit down."
Harper glanced up to find the man in a loosely worn white coat, his peach blossom eyes sparkling whenever he looked at someone. He was handsome, no doubt, but something about him screamed unreliable and light-hearted.
Seeing her still standing, Wesley flashed an affectionate grin and said, "Take a seat already."
" I'd rather not. A nurse can handle a simple matter like this," Harper demurred.
With a playful cluck of his tongue, Wesley teased, "Little Harper still doesn't trust me, huh? It's been a while since I've practiced, but removing a few stitches is a piece of cake."
Harper knew Wesley was being humble. He used to be the youngest doctor in Westerlyn but stopped doing surgeries suddenly. No one knew why. Wesley and Francis were childhood friends, but Harper didn't see much of him and didn't want to bother him.
At that moment, the scent of cool perfume lingered closer, and Francis pressed firmly on her shoulder, instructing casually, "Sit."
Sensing that Francis probably thought she was wasting time with her hesitations, Harper gave in and sat down obediently.
"Put your hand up here," Wesley said with a smile.
Harper looked calm on the outside, but inside, fear took over. She had a fear of needles, and today wasn't like the times she could find comfort with Abigail. Trembling, she extended her hand, flinching even before Wesley touched her.
Wesley's smile didn't waver as he teased, "Harper, you really don't trust me, do you?"
Not wanting to take up too much of their time, she battled her fears and placed her hand before him again. As Wesley's fingertips were about to make contact, Francis interrupted with a stern, "Where are your gloves?"
'Who operates without gloves?' Francis thought.
"I sanitized my hands," Wesley responded leisurely.
"That doesn't cut it!" Francis insisted, leaving no room for argument.
With a soft sigh, Wesley obediently slipped on gloves. 'He was afraid that Harper might have scars, so he hauled me out of bed to remove her stitches. And now, he won't even allow me to touch her delicate hands. Such possessiveness comes from a man who's going to get a divorce,' Wesley mused.
Caught by a whimsical thought, Wesley looked at Harper with a smile, "Little Harper, once you're single, can I pursue you?"
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