Chapter 917 No Need to Reason with You
As Phoebe and Patrick walked out, the PR department staff were still there, their eyes wide open like searchlights, scanning them up and down.
Phoebe and Patrick's making headlines was a misunderstanding, but Theodore didn't look too happy.
Did they fight?
But if they fought, would they still be holding hands?
Seeing that everyone was still there, Phoebe said, "If you guys don't have anything else to do, you can clock out. Keep an eye on Facebook, and call me if anything comes up."
"Yes, Ms. Ziegler. Goodbye, Mr. Reynolds," they all said in unison.
The next second, Theodore pulled Phoebe into the elevator.
As the doors slowly closed, she could still hear her staff gossiping.
"Mr. Reynolds looks scary. Do you think he abuses Ms. Ziegler?"
"What are you talking about? Does Ms. Ziegler look like someone who would just take that? Besides, this whole thing was the reporter's fault."
Phoebe couldn't hear any more.
She looked at Theodore, who was also staring at her.
She laughed awkwardly, "They don't know the situation. You wouldn't hurt me, right?"
Theodore stared at her face for a while and then snorted, "Don't be so sure. I have hurt you before."
Phoebe thought for a moment.
Theodore had never hit her. "When did you ever hurt me?"
Theodore leaned in and whispered a few words in her ear.
Phoebe's face turned bright red.
She shrank into the corner of the elevator, glaring at him with a mix of embarrassment and caution. "Theodore,"
"Want to try again?" Theodore ignored her fear and raised an eyebrow suggestively.
Phoebe was terrified. She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest in a protective gesture. "Don't you dare."
She used to be an unnoticed secretary, but now she was somewhat of a public figure.
After making headlines with Patrick tonight, she was sure to be swarmed by reporters.
If they caught any compromising photos, how could she continue working?
Theodore was teasing her.
Seeing her reaction, he found it amusing.
He smirked and looked away.
As they exited the company building, a silver-gray Maybach was parked outside.
Theodore opened the passenger door but noticed a flash of light in the distance.
He pursed his lips and turned to Phoebe. "Get in the car. I'll check it out."
Phoebe stood by the car door, watching him walk towards the bushes.
She heard rustling, and the next second, Theodore dragged someone out.
It was a young woman in her early twenties, clutching a DSLR camera.
She was trembling with fear under Theodore's intimidating presence.
"I was just taking pictures of the moon."
Phoebe instinctively looked up.
There was no moon tonight. This girl was a terrible liar.
Theodore extended his hand, his voice cold. "Give me the memory card."
"I have important photos on this card. I can't give it to you. I didn't take any pictures of you," the girl said, clutching her camera tightly.
Theodore sneered, "So you want me to take it by force? Your camera won't survive that."
The girl looked at Theodore in terror, realizing he was serious.
Reluctantly, she removed the memory card and handed it to him.
Theodore took the card and walked back to the car.
Seeing Phoebe standing outside, he frowned. "Didn't I tell you to wait in the car?"
Phoebe quickly bent down and got in.
Theodore was in a bad mood tonight; it was best not to provoke him.
They drove in silence.
Theodore pulled into Lakeview Estates, and Phoebe asked, "Did you take Hubert, Boris, and Noomi to Donovan's tonight?"
"No, but Mom took them," Theodore replied flatly.
Phoebe acknowledged with a hum.
The car entered the underground garage.
She got out and walked to the front of the car, only to be scooped up by Theodore and placed on the hood.
She gasped and quickly wrapped her arms around his neck.
Theodore's hands were on either side of her, their bodies pressed together through their clothes.
"What are you doing?" Phoebe whispered, glancing around.
This was a private garage, but there were cameras.
Theodore leaned in, his nose brushing hers, his voice husky. "What do you think I'm doing?"
Their breaths mingled, and Phoebe's heart raced.
Just as she was about to turn away, he bit her ear.
A wave of heat surged through her body, and she let out an involuntary gasp, her body going limp.
"Not here. There are cameras," Phoebe's voice was soft, like a hook teasing Theodore's heart.
"So, it's okay if we go to the room?"
Phoebe looked down. "I didn't say that."
"Then here it is," Theodore said decisively, slipping his hand inside her coat.
Phoebe quickly grabbed his hand, her face flushed. "Let's go to the room. You can do whatever you want there."
Theodore finally smiled, the first genuine smile of the night.
He suddenly picked her up, face-to-face, like holding a child.
He carried her into the elevator, up to the second floor, and into his room, tossing her onto the bed.
Phoebe was dizzy from the fall. She tried to get up, but Theodore grabbed her ankle and pulled her back.
"You're impossible," Phoebe laughed and scolded.
Theodore shrugged off his coat and pounced on the bed, pinning her beneath him. He kissed her deeply, murmuring, "I don't need to be reasonable with you."
That night, Theodore was relentless.
The bite mark on her neck was scrubbed under the shower for a long time, making her cry from the pain.
Theodore showed no mercy.
After cleaning it, he bit the same spot again, nearly making her pass out from the pain.
Later, he carried her to bed, where she cried herself to sleep.
Theodore's mood had improved.
Looking at the bloody bite mark on her neck, he finally felt a pang of guilt.
He went downstairs to get the first aid kit and treated her wound.
The cool sensation made Phoebe frown in her sleep, restless even in her dreams.
She seemed to be back in that hotel three years ago.
Theodore loomed over her like a mountain, her struggles and resistance futile.
In the dim light, she saw a black butterfly on Theodore's collarbone, its wings poised to fly.
The butterfly suddenly matched the bite mark tattoo on his collarbone.
This realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.
She woke up with a start, the room dark with blackout curtains drawn.
Theodore stirred beside her, pulling her closer. "Nightmare?"
Phoebe felt the warmth of his body, realizing they were both naked under the covers. Her face turned red.
"It looks like it's morning. Let's get up," Phoebe said, her voice hoarse.
Her whole body ached as if she'd been run over by a truck.
She tried to move, wincing at the pain in her bones, and forced herself to sit up.
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