Chapter121 Reconsideration
Of course, she wished that nothing had happened!
But given that she couldn't remember anything from last night, and she was currently dressed in his white shirt—with absolutely nothing underneath—it was natural for her to be concerned.
Yet with his dismissive attitude, Violet questioned whether it would make any difference if she asked; would he even take responsibility if anything had happened?
Feeling irked but powerless to confront him, she composed herself and asked with a hint of embarrassment, “Mr. Hall, I'll take care of… the aftermath. No need to worry. But could you please tell me where my clothes are? I need to get going.”
Take care of the aftermath?
Brady nearly laughed again. Did she honestly think they had slept together last night?
"Do you really think you'd be able to walk in the morning if we slept together? I'd have you completely worn out," Brady Hall said with an indifferent tone.
Violet Devereux's cheeks flushed like ripe tomatoes. How could this man be so crude?
And to think he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city.
She didn't want to engage in this topic with him any further, knowing she couldn't win. Pressing her lips together, she repeated, "Mr. Hall, where are my clothes? I need to go back."
"Your clothes? The housekeeper took them to be dry cleaned; they'll be back shortly." Brady reached for the bottle of mineral water on the coffee table, preparing to drink, but then as he caught a glimpse of Violet—an odd mixture of clumsy and fiercely stubborn—he asked, "Want some water? There's more in the fridge."
"Thanks, Mr. Hall, I'm fine," Violet declined, her mind solely focused on retrieving her clothes and leaving.
She'd chalk this up as a lesson learned.
Next time she decided to visit Loraine Plahn, she thought she should probably let her aunt or Emily Hart know.
At least Emily would come over immediately.
Sitting and waiting for her clothes, Violet couldn't help but feel both annoyed and helpless. Brady's oversized white shirt seemed short the moment she sat down, barely covering her. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red as she quickly grabbed a cushion to cover her long legs.
Lips pursed, she silently waited for the housekeeper.
To make matters worse, she felt an uncomfortable tightness—an ache really.
The waiting was torturous.
Meanwhile, Brady stood by the coffee table, drinking water. As he swallowed, his Adam's apple moved distinctly, accentuating his bare, toned upper body in a way that was undeniably attractive.
Violet dared not stare. She glanced quickly before shifting her gaze away and reaching for her phone to message Emily Hart: [Emily, are you home?]
Sleepily responding from home, unbeknownst to her just next door, Emily replied, [Just woke up, what's up?]
Violet: [I'll come over in about half an hour. Can you take me home?]
Emily, confused, quickly texted back: [What happened? Are you outside somewhere?]
Violet: [No, I'll be there in about 30 minutes.]
Even without knowing the full story, Emily, as her best friend, was welcoming: [Sure, I'll wait for you.]
Violet: [Okay, thanks.]
After sending the message, Violet continued to sit, waiting for the housekeeper to return with her clothes.
But why was that lady so slow?
Why hadn't she come yet?
Violet Devereux sat there, daring not to move for fear of exposing too much.
She could only sit rigidly against the cushion.
After about two minutes, Brady Hall spoke up, "You don't need to take any medication."
Violet Devereux was startled, looking at him somewhat dazedly, and after a while, she bit her lip and said, "Did nothing happen between us?"
Hearing her question, Brady's gaze intensified, "No."
Violet immediately breathed a sigh of relief. A man like Brady Hall probably wouldn't lie to her.
He had always been fair in his dealings.
He wasn't the slick type, was he?
So when he said that, Violet trusted him and continued to sit, waiting for the lady.
After a while, Brady began to call his assistant, asking him to come and take him to the office.
After the call, he turned to glance at the woman sitting there.
She was sitting quietly, her eyes downcast, lost in thought.
Brady took a deep look at her; the memory of last night's kiss flashed in his mind, causing a tightness in his throat.
He narrowed his eyes and suddenly sat down on the sofa opposite her, his voice poised and indifferent, "Have you reconsidered what we discussed last time?"
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