Chapter 469 Do You Still Care About Me?
"What do you think?" He softened a bit, seeing her eyes misty.
Frustrated and feeling helpless, she blurted out, "I've been worried sick all day. Do you even care?"
"In fact, I don't want to know, just leave."
Anger flared in Lawrence R. as he regarded her stubborn face. After a long while, he lit a cigarette and blew smoke in her direction. She coughed and gasped for air, on the verge of exploding in fury.
At that moment, he gently held her tender chin and murmured, "I have news about Oscar. I wanted to tell you first thing this morning, but you wouldn't listen, and only insulted me!"
"You wanted me to leave but here I am, shamelessly making my way into your hotel room..."
Winnie paused, a flicker of conflict passing through her eyes, before urgently asking, "What about Oscar? Have you found a lead?"
He exhaled a cloud of smoke and refused to answer.
Winnie tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, her desperate need soothing his irritation.
Lawrence R. pinched her chin, moving closer, and commanded in a low voice, "We'll talk about it later. Make dinner first."
"You..."
An unmistakable growl erupted from his stomach, not hers.
Looking up at him, she noticed the frown on his face and the tiredness the cut on his forehead lent him.
"You... haven't eaten?"
Lawrence R. tossed away the cigarette, threw her an 'obviously' look, and rolled up his sleeves to open the fridge and started to rummage for ingredients—
Wasn't he supposed to have a romantic meal with Ishara at noon? Wasn't she pampered to the point where he honored every meal with her?
Oh right, he went to see Jeremy instead.
That must be about Oscar!
Thoughts of Oscar stirred a twinge of jealousy in Winnie's heart, and hesitation crept in once more.
He could easily desert Sidney late at night for Ishara, yet for Oscar, he didn't even bother to eat.
Who was he really concerned about?
Trying to take care of both ends... did he not realize that this made him look like a jerk?
Her lips pressed together in annoyance as she caught herself stealing a glance at his sharp profile. His hairline, as straight as if it were etched by a blade, now had a bandage applied by Ishara, stained with blood.
At that instant, he turned, their eyes crashing into one another's.
Winnie quickly shifted her gaze, a lump forming in her throat. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but ask, "Is your wound from searching for Oscar?"
He met her eye and nodded, "Yeah, there was an explosion while chasing someone this morning."
"An explosion?!" Winnie's eyes widened. How could he mention such a thing with such nonchalance?
Seeing her worried look, Lawrence R. gave a slight smirk, "What are you looking at? The rest of me is uninjured. Are you concerned about me, Winnie? Do you still... care for me?"
His large hands were wrapped around grocery items, gravitating towards her with an aloof expression that paradoxically carried the warmth of domestic life, momentarily alluring.
It almost took Winnie back to those days in Lymington, when both their sons were around, and he would forcefully wedge himself into her kitchen. Back then, they were at odds, especially over matters concerning Darcy, but even amidst their squabbles, sweetness managed to seep through.
Just like now, despite knowing he had drifted away, his presence and his familiar actions momentarily dazed her. Her heart couldn't help but tremble with a sour pang.
Winnie pushed him away, not allowing his proximity, his intense gaze, to sway her.
"How could I possibly care about you anymore? You're mistaken," she retorted sharply, cutting off any foolish sentiment.
A shadow crossed Lawrence R.'s eyes, reflecting a bitter smile. It was his illusion; spending time with her like this made his heart flutter, and the love he'd tried to hide began to surface. He'd concocted a lie to deeply hurt her.
Had she heeded his dismissal and returned to Lymington, they would have stayed apart, and he wouldn't keep finding himself tangled in his feelings for her. But Winnie was not just any woman; she stood her ground, unyielding to his control, insisting on staying and challenging him here.
A cold gleam flickered in Lawrence R.'s eyes, her persistence drawing him in, time and time again.
Yet, she no longer cared for him!
"Fine, next time I'll just fake my death," he stated coldly, turning to unpack the groceries.
Winnie was momentarily stunned, wanting to cover his mouth to stop such self-pitying words. After all he had done to her, the deep wounds he'd inflicted, did he expect anything positive from her?
With a slight purse of her lips and a heavy heart amidst the stifling silence, Winnie decided not to engage in a standoff with him any longer. Let him cook on his own.
Just as she was about to turn away, she suddenly caught sight of him arching his muscular back, standing motionless against the kitchen counter.
"What's wrong?" Winnie asked, turning her head with suspicion.
She could see his otherwise handsome features now twisted in pain.
"Lawrence, you okay?"
"My stomach... it hurts..." Such a strong man, reduced to weakness by a stomachache.
His face turned pale, its contours sharpened by the tension and shadowed light, making him look even leaner.
"Have you skipped meals?"
"I haven't eaten today."
Winnie felt a pang of concern. Was he straining himself for Oscar's sake?
She didn't want to feel pity, yet she couldn't be totally indifferent.
With a shove, she moved him aside, snatching the kitchen knife with a fierce grip, "Move over, you big baby!"
She quickly washed the vegetables and started chopping. In her haste, her movements were rapid. The man stood aside, infuriated by her insult, his face darkened with warning, "Think I'm weak? You didn't dare say that when I made you cry."
Winnie nearly nicked herself with the knife, wondering where his focus was. Was his ego that fragile? Upset by a single taunt, he reminded her of past grievances. A flush of red crossed her cheeks.
"Slow down with the knife," he said, seeing her distracted. Lawrence's hand steadied hers on the knife handle, a wry smile touching his lips, "I may be in pain, but that's nothing. Be careful not to cut yourself."
"I’m not doing this for you, I just want our son to have his dinner sooner!" she retorted, her skin flushing.
He remained silent, holding her hand without intending to let go, his eyes soft and deep.
It wasn't until she had finished slicing the cucumber that Winnie pulled her hand free.
The two cooked in silence.
Minutes later, after Winnie had laid out some simple dishes, Sidney, evidently hungry, began to dig in enthusiastically with his spoon.
Lawrence ate with elegance, but due to his stomachache, he didn't have much appetite.
Winnie’s cooking was devoid of any spices, yet he still put down his plate rather quickly.
Frowning, the man pulled out his phone from his suit pocket, laying it on the table.
"What's that?" Sidney asked, putting down his fork.
Winnie glanced over as well.
Lawrence's eyes starred deeply, "This is Oscar's fingerprint and a clue he left for us."
Winnie’s heart skipped a beat as she reached for the phone, her face turning pale—
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