Declan Hawthorne tilted Poppy Hale’s chin.
The ring on his index finger, with so width to it, touched Poppy Hale’s skin, feeling a bit cold.
The man’s tone was even colder.
"What gives you the right to ask to forget?"
Just because she’s married?
Declan Hawthorne’s hand gripped Poppy Hale’s waist tightly, immobilizing her.
Poppy Hale bit her lip.
Due to an allergy, the rash on her arm hadn’t subsided, patchy and resembling intimate marks.
Declan Hawthorne’s embrace was firm and warm. Even though he was busy with work, he never neglected exercise. Every muscle under his suit was solid and powerful, exuding heat through the thin fabric.
In the past, they also had many more intimate monts.
But at this mont.
She saw hatred in Declan Hawthorne’s eyes.
The cold-as-moon gaze of the man was full of her reflection, lips pressed into a line, deep brows and eyes, like a mystical spring ready to drown Poppy Hale.
Looking closely, Poppy realized that their daughter resembled him a lot.
Especially the eyes, with eyelashes like fans, a deep color to the irises, and slightly upturned corners as if naturally lined with eyeliner.
When Declan Hawthorne’s gaze swept over, it sent chills down people’s spines.
He hated her.
This subtle sense of emotion made Poppy Hale’s body tremble lightly, her entire being felt as if it plunged into an icy abyss, freezing her to the bone.
She didn’t understand.
Why did Declan Hawthorne hate her?
Back then, breaking up wasn’t she who obediently stepped aside for his sake?
Poppy Hale sniffed.
Suddenly feeling a bit wronged.
He said himself that he never took her seriously.
Poppy Hale broke up only thinking that since she was the one who persistently began this wrong relationship, it should be her to end it, to avoid embarrassnt if Declan Hawthorne brought it up.
After all, she had her pride too.
Thinking of this, the grievances and sorrows brewing in her heart for years fernted, giving her the strength to struggle away from Declan Hawthorne’s embrace.
"President Hawthorne, please show so respect."
She gritted her teeth and repeated, "I’m already married."
The man seed as if he heard a joke, a sneer spilling from his lips.
"Married?"
The family she longed for was one where her husband cheated with an old classmate, and she and her child lived a barren life.
His throat tightened a bit.
Seeing Poppy Hale glaring at him, with an alert yet timid look.
Declan Hawthorne suddenly found it aningless.
He mocked himself too; it’s not that Poppy Hale was the only woman in the world.
How could Declan Hawthorne fall to the level of entangling with a married woman?
The office door was knocked, and a deliberately demure voice ca through, "President Hawthorne, may I co in?"
The voice sounded sowhat familiar.
Seed like soone from the design departnt, the director.
Just as Poppy Hale was preparing to leave, Declan Hawthorne grabbed her wrist, stuffing her entirely under the desk.
"Do you think you can go out like this?"
Poppy Hale just realized the situation.
Declan Hawthorne fed her water and dicine, her lips were crimson, slightly swollen and glossy due to his force.
Plus, with allergy dicine still working, her skin on arms and neck was fragile with a few rashes on her face as well.
Poppy Hale obediently curled up under the desk, remaining silent.
The space underneath was wide, she was slender, completely not cramped, only that she couldn’t make any noise.
Declan Hawthorne glanced downward.
Poppy Hale lifted her watery eyes, looking at him resentfully, yet her eyes were tinged with red, glistening.
The top two buttons of her shirt were undone.
It appeared okay from a normal angle.
But from above, Declan Hawthorne could clearly see the white lace edges and fair skin.
The undulations resembled surging waves.
She wore a red string, with a small ornant likely at its end, half swallowed by the waves.
With this expression, no man could remain unmoved; Poppy Hale’s beauty demanded attention. The more observed, the more one would succumb before her.
He coughed twice, drank so water to suppress the annoyance.
Allowed the person at the door to co inside.
Chantal Underwood swayed in, her face blushing several shades redder upon seeing Declan Hawthorne.
"President Hawthorne, these are new design cases from our departnt, please take a look."
"Mm."
In the office, only the sound of Declan Hawthorne flipping through docunts remained.
Poppy Hale curled beneath the desk, her foot went numb within minutes.
She wanted to change position.
But with Declan Hawthorne crossing his legs, she had no space to move.
Poppy Hale reached out, poking Declan Hawthorne’s calf.
He ignored her.
The numbness worsened, even reaching her knee.
Poppy Hale decisively pried Declan Hawthorne’s legs apart, forcibly changing his crossed-leg posture.
Into a wide-legged seated position.
Poppy Hale finally got space to shift, quietly rubbing her ankle.
Declan Hawthorne seed unresponsive, continuing to review the designs.
"This section lacks design highlights."
"Explain the A project."
Chantal quickly began explaining the design concept.
Declan Hawthorne pulled open a drawer, glancing around.
There was an untouched breakfast prepared by Morgan Sloan, including bread and milk.
Passed it under the table.
Poppy Hale looked at the bread and milk suddenly appearing in front of her.
She froze, then saw Declan Hawthorne’s fingers tapping the milk, signaling her to take it.
After taking it in hand, Declan Hawthorne withdrew his hand nonchalantly and closed the drawer.
The sound of tearing the bread was quite loud, likely audible to Chantal Underwood.
Poppy Hale carefully inserted a straw, taking a sip.
With sothing in her stomach, her hypoglycemia symptoms eased considerably.
Chantal finished presenting the project but didn’t leave.
"President Hawthorne, are you free after work? I have two concert tickets..."
This was an invitation under the guise of reporting work?
The creamy milk in Poppy Hale’s mouth tasted a bit bitter.
There were always many won around Declan Hawthorne, never silent wherever he went.
Various images flashed in Poppy Hale’s mind.
Thinking so, indeed Poppy Hale was unimportant, unnoticed.
She wanted to see Declan Hawthorne’s stance, but as soon as she looked up, her gaze fell on the area below his belt.
Sitting down made it even harder to ignore.
Plus, with Declan Hawthorne’s legs apart, she was sitting right in front of him.
Her gaze directly aid there.
Poppy Hale’s face ward.
Wishing to avert her gaze yet unable to resist, she took another glance.
Declan Hawthorne frowned, gave Chantal a glance.
Straightforward, leaving no kindness.
"Focus on work, I’m not interested in developing feelings with you. If during work hours your mind isn’t on the company, then soone might be interested in your position."
A few words, turning Chantal’s face deathly pale.
Also putting away any slight romance in her heart, her voice returned to normal.
"Alright, President Hawthorne, I’ll go revise it now."
After Chantal Underwood left.
Declan Hawthorne looked down at Poppy Hale, only to et her gaze.
Her gaze had completely fallen upon sowhere else.
Declan Hawthorne smirked, gazing at Poppy’s flushed earlobes, reaching out to pinch them.
"What are you looking at?"
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