Wanda Lynch imdiately put on a magnanimous and forgiving expression. "Oh, Theodore, you’re here. Silly , I just had a little spat with Mrs. Wallace because the food wasn’t to my taste. It’s not easy for her, so you mustn’t bla her, alright?"
Theodore Grant glanced at the floor.
Mr. Wallace, trembling, hurried to clean up.
"Go ho when you’re done," Theodore Grant said.
The butler imdiately nodded. "Yes, sir."
Wanda Lynch’s eyes had almost fully recovered.
The cast on her leg had also been removed.
"Theodore, how are things with the arson case?"
Her eyes curved into crescents, her probing tone laced with an almost imperceptible attempt to curry favor.
"Not enough evidence, so she was released," he said flatly.
"I didn’t think Natalie could do sothing like that either. It must have been a misunderstanding. I was so worried."
Wanda Lynch’s fingertips gripped the bedsheet, but her face remained peaceful and gentle.
Theodore Grant looked up at her.
He felt a sense of relief. "Rest up at ho and recover after you’re discharged tomorrow."
"I..." She lowered her lashes sorrowfully. "...I don’t have a ho anymore."
"Go to the Grant Residence."
"Would that be alright? Natalie never liked when I stayed there last ti. Maybe... we should just forget it." Wanting to appear as if she wasn’t trying to trouble Theodore Grant, she offered, "I can just rent an apartnt."
"No need. She’s not living at ho right now."
"Did you two have a fight?"
Theodore Grant didn’t answer her question, only saying flatly, "I’ll have Mr. Wallace co pick you up then."
...
After leaving the hospital, Theodore Grant found himself heading to the studio apartnt on so strange impulse.
Natalie Morgan had just finished a shower. The days she spent in custody had left her utterly exhausted.
She’d already called Mona to let her know she would be back at work tomorrow.
’She still had to earn money.’
The doorbell rang.
She glanced through the peephole... It was Theodore Grant.
’Didn’t he leave?’
Her hand hovered over the doorknob. After a mont of hesitation, she opened the door.
"Mr. Grant. Can I help you?"
He leaned an elbow against the doorfra, bending slightly. A roguish smile played on his lips as he chuckled. "Not going to invite in for a bit?"
"It’s not convenient."
"What’s not convenient about it?" He didn’t barge in, granting her that small courtesy.
She knew she couldn’t stop Theodore Grant if he really wanted to co in, so she simply stepped aside. "My mistake. I forgot this was Mr. Grant’s property."
Theodore Grant was nearly six-foot-three.
The doorfra was a little low; his hair nearly brushed against it as he walked inside.
This was his first ti walking into a Grant Group employee’s studio apartnt.
It was a small, single-room studio. The bathroom, kitchen, and living area were partitioned into small spaces. A desk with a computer sat out on the balcony.
The bedroom was separated by a simple partition.
"Have you eaten?" he asked, turning to her.
Natalie Morgan said coldly, "Not hungry."
"I’m hungry. Make a bowl of noodles."
"I don’t have the kind of noodles you’re used to, Mr. Grant." She had no desire to wait on him.
He raised an eyebrow. "A bowl of noodles in exchange for one of your mother’s pills. Sound fair, Mrs. Grant?"
’A single pill cost a hundred thousand.’
’How could she possibly refuse?’
"Fine."
Turning, she went to the kitchen, tied on an apron, and took out the only bundle of dried noodles from the cupboard.
’She glanced at the expiration date... Expired.’
Theodore Grant took off his jacket and sat on the sofa.
The sofa was narrow and small; he could barely stretch out his legs.
A pot of sunflowers sat on the balcony windowsill, their faint, fresh scent drifting in.
Getting up, he walked to the kitchen doorway and stared at her back.
In their two years of marriage, he had rarely co ho. But on the few occasions he did, Natalie Morgan would always prepare a feast for him.
He knew her cooking was very good, yet he had never taken a single bite.
He even detested sitting with her.
So much so that later, every ti he ca ho, it was in the dead of night.
He clearly didn’t even like the woman, yet he was utterly addicted to her body.
But aside from their physical encounters, he knew nothing else about her.
"Plain noodles in clear broth?" he suddenly spoke.
"I made a tomato and egg topping," Natalie replied, her voice flat, not turning around.
"Is there no at?"
Natalie Morgan opened the fridge and took out a ham sausage. "Will this do?"
"It’ll have to do."
Natalie even poached an egg for him, adding so shredded cucumber before ladling the tomato and egg sauce on top. The sight of it made her feel a little hungry herself.
She brought the bowl to him. "Here you go. Help yourself."
"You only made one bowl?" he asked, looking up at her.
"There’s more."
"Go get another bowl and eat with ."
Natalie Morgan shook her head, refusing. "I can’t afford a bowl of noodles that costs a hundred thousand."
"My treat."
Natalie Morgan didn’t move.
Theodore Grant twirled so noodles on his chopsticks, blew on them, and held them up to Natalie Morgan’s mouth. "Here, have a bite."
Natalie Morgan...
"You can eat it yourself."
The way they were acting felt too awkward. She went back to the kitchen to clean up the ss from cooking.
Suddenly, a pair of large hands wrapped around her from behind. She shrieked in fright, "Let go of ! Theodore Grant, what are you doing?"
"I’ve never heard you scream this loud in bed."
He rested his chin in the crook of her shoulder. Natalie Morgan’s back went completely rigid.
’What is wrong with this man? Has he lost his mind?’
She could clearly feel his body reacting. She wanted to get away, but the space was cramped, and she had nowhere to run.
"Mr. Grant, this is employee housing."
"What are you trying to remind of?" He bit the soft flesh behind her ear. "Natalie Morgan, you and I are husband and wife. We’re not having an affair."
"I don’t like this."
"You don’t like being intimate? Or you don’t like being intimate with **?" He held her body, turning her around to face him, his eyes cool. "Saving yourself for Felix Finch?"
"What does this have to do with Felix Finch?"
"Then who does it have to do with?" He lifted her up and set her on the countertop, placing his hands on either side of her. "Natalie Morgan, when you and Felix Finch did it, was he gentle?"
Her eyes, bright as stars, t his gaze. "What answer do you want to hear, Mr. Grant?"
"The truth."
"I’m sure you’ve already pictured everything Felix Finch and I did in bed, haven’t you, Mr. Grant? Well, you’re right. It was exactly as you imagined."
’She knew it was a bad idea to provoke him.’
’But there was no other way to deal with a madman like him.’
Theodore Grant suddenly smiled.
His eyes, as cold as black jade, stared fixedly at her. "So, you two really did it?"
"Think whatever you want. Just don’t ask ."
He suddenly raised a hand and grabbed her by the neck. "Natalie Morgan, you’re really good at making angry."
"Isn’t this what you wanted to hear?" she stared at him resentfully. "Isn’t this just the excuse you need for your revenge?"
"It seems you’re not afraid of my revenge anymore." He released his hand from her neck. "I could make a call to the hospital right now. I imagine you can bear the consequences."
"Don’t." Her head drooped in despair, her body turning cold. "I... was wrong."
’She was afraid.’
’Terrified.’
’He wasn’t normal at all.’
"I’ll give you a chance to please ." He gripped her waist, pressing her body tightly against his. "Kiss ."
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