Capturing the Young Doctor's Heart: Mr. Big Shot Won't Let Me Go Chapter 141: Can’t You Come Back and Keep Me Company?

Claire Prescott looked at the spot where they touched, and said coldly:

"Miss Lancaster, whether two people can beco friends depends on fate, on having common topics. Your deliberate approach to curry favor will have no effect. Besides, friendships are naturally ford through interactions, not declared just because you say so."

Seeing that she seed angry, Yvonne weakly released her hand, her eyes showing so helplessness.

Claire Prescott calmly withdrew her gaze, "I have a driver, no need to trouble you."

With that.

She turned and left the courtyard.

But when she went out, she could feel her steps were sowhat unsteady.

Although it was a low-alcohol cocktail, she drank a lot, and her tolerance wasn’t strong, drunkenness was inevitable.

However.

As she walked out of the villa gate, a glaring car light flashed in front of her, she instinctively squinted her eyes, raised her hand to block the light, and when she opened her eyes again, blurry halos started to appear.

The car blocked her path.

As the window rolled down, she saw a man’s blurry face, though only a rough outline, couldn’t tell who he was, but she determined this was not Keane Lowell.

After not seeing him for a few days.

Inexplicably, she really missed him.

And at this mont.

The driver who brought her here called out to her from afar: "Miss Prescott, the car is here."

Claire Prescott followed the sound, didn’t bother with the person in the car, gripped her phone, and walked steadily towards the calling driver.

Seeing her approach.

The driver quickly opened the car door for her, his hand hovered protecting her head, escorting her into the car.

Being close, naturally, he slled the alcohol on her.

Once she sat down, she leaned back on the seat, her hands limp and resting on her legs.

Not knowing if she was drunk or not, the driver reminded: "Miss Prescott, please fasten your seatbelt."

Upon hearing, Claire Prescott reached for the seatbelt.

A bit lazy to move, she couldn’t help but wish Keane Lowell was there, but he wasn’t, so she used effort to pull and fasten the seatbelt.

Seeing her tighten it, the driver felt assured and closed the car door, returned to the driver’s seat.

But.

Just as he turned on the headlights, he unexpectedly locked eyes through the window with a deep gaze.

The man stood in the bright light, his figure tall and composed, truly elegant and stable, yet in his eyes there was a silent trace of pressure.

The driver didn’t pay much attention.

As he turned the steering wheel, the headlights swept over Ethan Lancaster, who stood in place, watched the car leave, until it disappeared, then withdrew his gaze.

He glanced at the villa before him, didn’t rashly enter, but raised his phone to call Yvonne, asking her to co out herself.

Seeing her walk out dejectedly, he knew, once again, she was not welcod.

Unexpectedly, both siblings were undone by the sa person, if he hadn’t used benefits to forcefully marry back then, perhaps things would be very different now.

And not so resisted by her.

...

Streetlights passed one after another in front of her, the driver at this point asked: "Miss Prescott, heading back to Sinclair Apothecary?"

Claire Prescott hesitated for a mont, replied: "Azure Court."

Having said.

She picked up the phone to call Keane Lowell, pressed the button to activate the voice assistant, "Call President Lowell."

A chanical voice responded, "I didn’t find President Lowell’s number in your contacts."

Claire Prescott paused, thought about contacts note, then brought the microphone to her mouth, and said again: "Call Keane Lowell."

The screen then changed, automatically opening the call page.

She patiently waited.

In just a few seconds, the call connected, the man’s uniquely teasing voice ca through, gently calling her: "Claire."

"Have you gone ho? I miss you." Her soft voice carried a hint of coquettishness.

Keane Lowell’s gaze settled on the ditation mat, his expression paused, analyzing from her tone that sothing was off, "You’ve been drinking?"

"How did you know?"

"How much did you drink?"

Claire Prescott counted on her fingers, her fair pink face seed covered in a drunken haze, "Probably about eight glasses, played cards with them tonight, didn’t win a single round, all lost."

Keane Lowell asked warmly: "Heading ho now?"

"Mm, on the way to Azure Court."

Upon hearing she was going to Azure Court, Keane Lowell’s voice choked.

He probably fell silent for a few seconds, then the voice sounded again: "I miss you, President Lowell."

The soft and tender voice scratched his heart through the eardrum.

The ancestral hall is a solemn place, not suitable for romantic feelings.

The Adam’s apple moved, he stepped out of the hall, in the hallway coaxed her: "I can’t make it tonight, I’ll ask Auntie Susan to go back and take care of you."

Upon hearing this, Claire Prescott couldn’t help but feel disappointed, confird by asking: "You’re not coming back tonight?"

"Mm."

"Alright then." She obediently replied: "No need to trouble Auntie Susan, I can manage myself."

"Be good."

The deep, gentle words made it impossible for her to refuse, seemingly, goosebumps rose on her arm.

She pouted: "Can’t you co back to keep company, I want you to help bathe."

On the other end.

Keane Lowell’s eyes deepened suddenly, the hand holding the phone tightened involuntarily.

Her intoxicating deanor, he had experienced once before, she spoke her mind, seemingly every word was sincere, unabashedly, tempting and close.

He coaxed: "I’ll help you next ti."

Rejected three tis, Claire Prescott felt disappointed, "Okay then."

A subtle and unspoken longing for him tugged at her heart, she was reluctant to hang up, just held up the phone, pressed against her ear, "It’s so quiet on your end, are you working overti?"

Keane Lowell paused for a second, agreed to her words, "Yes."

"Then put the phone beside you, I won’t disturb you, like before, let just feel your presence."

After speaking.

Keane Lowell’s voice choked.

In the dim ancestral hall, moonlight quietly spilled in, unable to clear the gloom in his eyes, there was only the sparse sound of insects.

No other sounds, prolonged conversation, soon the truth would be revealed.

Yet.

Not a few minutes later, she seed to sense sothing amiss, "Are you deceiving ? You’re not working, I didn’t hear any working sounds."

Keane Lowell lied easily, "Looking at docunts, will see you tomorrow."

Upon hearing this, Claire Prescott didn’t think further, "Alright then, I’ll hang up, co ho early tomorrow, I’ll wait for you at ho."

"Okay."

Yet, neither of them hung up.

After a brief silence, Claire Prescott’s soft voice erged, "Do you miss ?"

However, before receiving a response, the call ended.

Claire Prescott looked at the blackened screen, tossed the phone aside in frustration, huffed, "Don’t miss then, workaholic."