Elvis Dean

Chapter 329 - 331: Are You Asking for a Beating?

Chapter 329: Chapter 331: Are You Asking for a Beating?


"Who are you? Why do you care so much?"


Sophie Sullivan was fuming, staring at him. Wasn’t he enjoying hugging Amelia Shaw just now?


What did he want from her now? Lacking affection? He should go find his Amelia Shaw; why did he come to her? Looking for a beating?


In her eyes, Thomas Shannon saw a murderous intent, a desire to slaughter him. He chuckled, lifted his hand, and placed it on her head.


As if teasing a pet, he patted her head twice. "What’s wrong? Still moody?"


"You’re allowed to flirt, but I can’t be moody?"


Sophie Sullivan swatted his hand from her head, snorting coldly and mercilessly. "Don’t touch me. You’re disgusting."


Disgusting? She dared to find him disgusting?


Thomas Shannon’s smile vanished. "Are you asking for a beating?"


"The same words, right back at you."


"Say that again?"


A corner of Sophie Sullivan’s mouth lifted. Fine, I’ll say it. Who’s afraid of whom? "Thomas Shannon, if you don’t want to get beaten, stay away from me."


"Threatening me, hmm?" Thomas Shannon gripped her chin with one hand, his devastatingly handsome face pressing dangerously close to hers.


"GASP—"


Sophie Sullivan sucked in a sharp breath, her brows knitting tightly from the pain. Half of her small face crumpled.


Thomas Shannon paused, taken aback, and released her chin. "What’s wrong?"


"It hurts..." Sophie Sullivan hurriedly raised her hand, wanting to touch her gauze-wrapped face, but stopped just before making contact.


She didn’t dare to touch it, not even lightly.


Her face was still throbbing with pain. She didn’t dare make too many expressions, afraid of aggravating the wound and, in the end, only causing herself more suffering.


Just moments ago, she had gotten carried away. Her facial expressions had been too vivid, and when he gripped her chin like that, all the pain seemed to converge and assault her.


Seeing fine beads of cold sweat quickly forming on her forehead, Thomas Shannon turned his head and called to a man in black, "Get the doctor over here! Give her a painkiller injection!"


"Yes, Young Master!"


Her hand started to move again, but Thomas Shannon grabbed it disdainfully. "Don’t move! Stop thinking about touching your face all day. Endure it!"


"I wanted to brush my hair away! Who said I wanted to touch my face?"


Annoyed, Sophie Sullivan lifted her foot and stomped hard on his. Stepping on him once wasn’t enough to vent her anger. Sophie Sullivan ground her heel down forcefully, only then feeling a slight release of her frustration.


Thomas Shannon: "..."


She’s a little maniac! Utterly unreasonable!


He grabbed her wrist and dragged her towards the castle.


Sophie Sullivan struggled a couple of times, repeatedly trying to pull her hand from his grasp, but it was futile. The man’s hand was like an iron clamp, tightly gripping her wrist. The more she struggled, the more her wrist pained her.


To ease her discomfort and acknowledging reality, Sophie Sullivan finally resigned herself to the situation.


The doctor arrived quickly. Thomas Shannon had pressed her down onto the sofa, and before long, the doctor rushed in, carrying his medical box.


"Young Master, should I give the maniac the painkiller injection now?"


"Mm," Thomas Shannon nodded.


The doctor nodded, took a syringe from the medical box, and began to administer the painkiller injection to her.


From the corner of her eye, Sophie Sullivan saw a figure standing at the Restaurant Entrance, watching her. No... the figure was watching *them* the entire time.


She followed the direction of the gaze, looked up, and saw Amelia Shaw.


Amelia Shaw looked like she had been crying; there were still traces of tears at the corners of her eyes, tiny, glistening teardrops.


Sophie Sullivan’s lips curled into a sneer, and she averted her gaze.