Chapter 544 The Spark Ignites Between Patricia and Martin
James's heart skipped, and he gripped her arms, intending to pull her away forcefully. Yet, her grip was strong, and he dared not exert too much force, fearing he might hurt her.
With a sigh, James detached emotionally. "The world is full of wonders. It's all just a coincidence."
Patricia remained unconvinced. "I don't believe in so many coincidences."
"In fact, there are many coincidences!" James said, coughing lightly, his chest's vibration sending a numbness through Patricia's ears. "Two people, not twins, can look identical, let alone this ridiculous syncing of heartbeats."
"No, you're Martin. Why won't you admit it? Tell me, have you run into some trouble?" Patricia shook her head vehemently. "I'm your wife; we should face hardships together."
James's eyes reddened slightly, his blood boiling. He was close to breaking and confessing his longing. But he couldn't.
"If you keep going on like this, Patricia, then I'm afraid I'll have to apologize. My work with the Langley Group... I fear I can't continue. You'll have to find someone else," he said, his voice trembling.
"Why? Patricia panicked and let go of him, too anxious to notice the change in his tone. " You promised to help me."
"You're making me uncomfortable. I don't want to be a stand-in, to be anyone's replacement. I am me, James," he said, frowning. "I wouldn't say I like being mistaken for someone else."
"But you clearly are—"
James had already turned and started walking away.
"I'm sorry!" Patricia said as she hurried after him and grabbed his hand, her voice thick with tears. "If you don't want me to say it, I won't. You are you. You're James, not Martin."
"Remember what you've said," James paused, his shoulders tensed, his voice stiff as he spoke without turning back. "I don't ever want you mistaking someone else for me again."
As she watched him, unsure of his meaning and thinking he was still angry, Patricia released his hand and walked toward the alley's other end. It was best to leave quickly.
But as she reached the mouth of the alley, another arm suddenly blocked her path, sending a chill through her. James was behind her, so it couldn't be him blocking her way.
She considered stepping back to reach James, but then she remembered his frail body, so thin it seemed a gust of wind could carry him away, and immediately dismissed the idea.
"Hey, hey, hey, I've had some bad luck today," a bone-thin man with sallow skin and racoon-like eyes said, grinning with a mouthful of yellow teeth as he appeared in front of her. "Please spare me some cash to get by. Come back here tomorrow, and I swear I'll pay you back."
Patricia didn't believe he would pay her back the next day, but arguing with a gambler over money wasn't a smart move either.
She opened her purse, handed over all her cash. "This is all the money I have on me."
The man's greed intensified as he eyed her purse. "That looks like an expensive bag. Hand it over, too. And your phone? I want it as well."
With an icy expression, Patricia reluctantly handed over her purse, thinking of James's safety. "My phone's inside. Take it and get out of here."
After all, material possessions are replaceable; a bag and a phone could be bought anew. Nothing was more important than one's life.
The man took the bag and rummaged through it, finding nothing else but the phone. Upon pulling out the wallet and seeing several bank cards, greed flashed across his face. "You're so generous. You must be wealthy! There must be a lot of money on these cards, too. Come on, we're going to the bank to make a withdrawal."
"Okay! I'll go with you," Patricia said, planning to lead him away and then find a way to escape, hoping James would have enough time to make his escape.
The man never expected Patricia to be so generous; this job was shaping up to be the most successful heist of his life. Just as he was smugly preparing to drag Patricia away, a beer bottle struck his head with a forceful thud, opening up a gory bloom.
Without even a cry, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from the wound on his forehead. The musky smell of blood quickly permeated the damp alleyway.
James coughed lightly, one hand over his mouth, the other holding the half-shattered beer bottle.
Patricia gaped at James. "Where did you get that bottle?"
James still needed to answer her question. After a bit more coughing and catching his breath, he tossed the beer bottle aside, stooped to snatch Patricia's purse from the fallen man, and, grabbing her hand, led her out of the alley.
"That was dumb of you, handing it over because he told you to. Don't you know how to fight back?"
Patricia looked down at their intertwined hands. His palms were calloused, but his grip was unexpectedly comforting.
"James..." she said.
It was the first time she'd called him by his full name. He paused for a moment, uncertain of his emotions, and managed a soft, "Hmm?"
"Where are you from? How old are you? Are you married? Do you have kids?" Patricia said, bombarding him.
James clearly did not want to answer, remaining silent.
"Come on, tell me!"
After a long pause, James said coldly, "I don't think I need to tell you. Our cooperation is strictly to help The Langley Group through this crisis. Once it's over, I'll be gone. There's no need to get to know each other deeper. You need to remember that you're the boss, and I'm the employee. That's it."
"You're so distant, it's kind of hurtful," Patricia said, pouting, her voice tinged with a playful yet dissatisfied note.
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