Chapter 531 After the Drinks
"So why won't you finish saying it?" Ishara, seizing the moment as his gaze became unfocused, wrapped her arms around his neck and persisted, "Tell me, Lawrence."
He found himself unable to articulate. Lawrence's awareness started to fade, enchanted by her comforting words that eased him into a gentle tranquility. He nodded solemnly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I won't let you drink. Did you overlook your stomach issue?"
A shadow of doubt circled in Ishara's mind. She turned her gaze away and grabbed the wine glass. With a touch of hurt in her voice, she said, "You forbid me from drinking but you can always drink yourself, right? You're being unreasonable and domineering with me and I'm getting angry. Maybe you should leave. Get out of here!"
A sense of heaviness settled in Lawrence's heart, realizing that he had once again displeased her. Recently, it seemed like her temper flared easily, and he always found himself at the center of it. He wasn't inclined to walk away. Instead, it felt like he was caught in a reverie where she was incredibly pleasant, with a warm smile, willingly nestled in his embrace. If it were a dream, he had no desire to wake up from it.
Caught in his despair, Lawrence took the wine glass she handed him and downed it in one go.
It appears that the usually distant and contemptuous Lawrence would transform into a cautious, almost beseeching figure in Winnie's presence, all in the hopes of witnessing her smile. Ishara watched him intently as she felt a thorn of discontent dug deeper and deeper in her. She believed that once she had his child, he would treat her just as well. In his eyes, there would be no space for Winnie any longer, and he would be compelled to marry her.
In silence, Ishara patiently waited for the alcohol and medicine to kick in. Gradually, a flush began to spread across Lawrence's face, and beads of sweat trickled down, following the lines of his muscular physique. The combination of medication and alcohol was intensifying its impact, leaving him noticeably agitated.
"Lawrence, you seem very uncomfortable. It seemed that you might have a fever. Why don't you lie down and rest?" Ishara suggested deliberately.
Lawrence gazed at the woman in front of him, noticing the soft features reminiscent of Winnie. Each feature seemed to test his self-control. "Did you turn on the air conditioning, Winnie?" he asked, fighting off the heat as he stood up, intent on putting some distance between them.
Ishara, however, couldn't tear her eyes away from his towering, soaked silhouette clad in a wet white shirt and his red-flushed face. Abruptly, she clung onto his muscular arm, her fingers delicately caressing his muscles as she pulled him unsteadily towards the bed.
Lawrence leaned over her, sensing the beast within him that was threatening to break free. The collapse of his restraint pained him deeply. He refused to look at her soft pink lips. "What are you doing?" Winnie's boldness struck him as peculiar, yet the woman confronting him was unmistakably Winnie.
"Sorry, I lost my balance for a moment. Lawrence, don't you want to kiss me?" Ishara's voice flowed gently, wrapping around him like a calming stream. Her fingertips radiated an intense warmth on his shoulder.
Lawrence forcefully withdrew her hands, his gaze piercing and intense. "Yes, I do." He chuckled, a sinister allure heightened by the beads of sweat on his forehead, tinged with a touch of self-deprecation. "How could I possibly forget? Back in the cellar when you had no alternative but to rely on me to alleviate the drug's effects, perched on top of me, shedding tears. You were clueless about how exhilarated I felt. The way you resisted yet seemed to crave more—it's etched in my memory. Afterward, I never dare to bring it up.
"Tonight, you're stunning as always, Winnie." The images that flooded his mind has ignited a burning desire deep within as he found himself unable to look away from her lips.
Ishara was shocked, unable to process his words. She quickly regained her composure, taking his hand and drawing close with tender lips. "If I'm so beautiful, can you resist me? Kiss me, Lawrence."
Her lips hovered just an inch away. Lawrence gently nudged her away, firmly pressing her down against the softness of the pillow.
"Lawrence..." Ishara, inexperienced as she was, grew frantic when he showed no reaction as he reached for his belt.
"Stop!" He snapped sharply, a frown set on his face, his breath heated.
"Why?" Ishara was puzzled. Clearly, in his eyes, she was Winnie. According to Darcy, if he loved Winnie, he would undoubtedly sleep with her too.
Lawrence held her back, his hand firmly planted on her abdomen, a mix of anger and frustration evident in his demeanor. "Stop pushing me, Winnie. Sometimes, things just aren't meant to be, no explanations required. Look after yourself." With that, he hastily retreated into the bathroom, almost escaping, and slammed the door shut behind him.
Ishara lay on the bed, her face pallid, enveloped in a shroud of darkness—her plan had not succeeded. Although he had mistaken her for Winnie, in the end, he refrained from acting on impulse.
Ishara was confused, wondering what went wrong. She recalled how his hand touched her stomach.
In her heart, Ishara confirmed a suspicion, her eyes cold and trembling with shock. Perhaps Winnie was pregnant with his child once more. Otherwise, he wouldn't repeatedly remind her to take care of her health and pushed her away in moments of passion.
However, when she confronted him, he kept hiding it which meant he was also hiding it from the actual Winnie. Ishara cursed inwardly as she wondered when did Lawrence managed to get back together with Winnie.
When she recalled what Lawrence has just said about the moment in the cellar, rage instantaneously filled Ishara's eyes.
At the hotel, Winnie felt restless, pondering over the doctor Lawrence had consulted regarding Oscar's illness. She wondered if this doctor had any connection to Oscar. Unable to contain her curiosity after a prolonged wait, she decided to dial Lawrence's number, eagerly anticipating an update.
The call connected and Winnie asked, "Lawrence, where are you? Can we meet to talk?"
"It's late. Lawrence has gone to bed. He's exhausted. If you want to see him, you should schedule an appointment at the Rodriguez Group tomorrow." Ishara's weak, husky voice carried a hint of raspiness.
Winnie understood perfectly why a woman's voice would sound like that in the dead of night. Instantly, her expression froze and her mind going blank. A shiver crawled up her spine, stirring her heart from its calm.
Winnie's eyes began to sting from the tears. She clenched her cell phone while trying to maintain composure. "Sorry for the intrusion." She hung up the phone.
Olivia walked over, noticing the tears in her eyes and asked, "What happened? Weren't you calling Lawrence?"
Certainly, he was on the quest for Oscar. The ambiguity remained whether he was genuinely seeking his son or lying in Ishara's bed. She pondered if any honesty lingered within him. Observing him play with her emotions and feigning the role of a loving father, she couldn't help but consider if it was merely a twisted form of amusement for him.
Ishara smirked as she deleted the call log from Lawrence's phone and shoved it back into his pocket. His trousers lay discarded on the ground outside the bathroom where he had been locked away for over an hour. Ishara's face showed defeat and resentment.
Dawn broke and Lawrence awoke with a pounding headache. His brain felt as though it had experienced a brief amnesia, utterly empty. He glanced at the ceiling and realized that he wasn't in his bedroom.
Lawrence bolted upright and turned to see Ishara beside him, naked beneath the silken sheets, her neck revealing hickeys.
"Lawrence, you're awake? Last night, you had some drinks and we ended up having sex…" Ishara opened her eyes, her face flushed with a teary pretense, hesitating mid-sentence.
Lawrence sprang out of bed, his features cold as ice, his menacing tone unyielding. "Nonsense. I would never touch you."
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