Chapter 340: Chapter 340: Come Home With Me, I’ll Take Care of You
The dangerous aura, as fierce as a wolf, swept across every pore of Ann Vaughn’s body in an instant, causing her to shiver repeatedly, instinctively wanting to flee.
However, before she could touch the door, the man behind her easily grabbed her wrist, and with a slight force of his other arm, pulled her completely into his embrace.
Ann Vaughn’s cheeks flushed red, not daring to meet the ambiguous gazes of the staff outside, she pushed against the man’s chest with all her might, wanting to get out of his arms.
"Cyrus Hawthorne, what do you want?!"
But the more she struggled, the tighter the arms wrapped around her waist became, as if trying to embed her into his body.
"I should be asking you," a hoarse, low laugh came from above her head, carrying a coldness that made one’s nerves tremble, "first it was Sutton Jennings, then Shane Sharp, and next, which man will it be, hmm?"
The cold taunt drilled into Ann Vaughn’s ears, instantly bringing a subtle pain to her heart, and her red lips pressed tightly together.
Initially, it was wrong of her to approach him for the investigation of the virus, but she had never done anything to harm him.
Otherwise, with the stock of medicinal powder she carried, and considering he had no vigilance against her, she had plenty of opportunities to act against him.
If she did anything, it was only to delay him from going abroad by making herself sick.
Yet the one suffering from the disease was her, not him, she wasn’t even angry at him wanting to spread those viruses, why was he so upset?
Besides, what did their matters have to do with those two?
Thinking of this, Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but clench her fingers, and with defiant eyes, retorted him: "It has nothing to do with you, no matter who it is."
As soon as these words left her mouth, Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin lips curled coldly, his large hand on her slender waist tightening continuously.
The next moment, he forcefully lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, his narrow, cold black eyes staring hard at her, "So, when you said you didn’t care if I was with other women, were you being truthful?"
"Yes!" Ann Vaughn’s bright eyes widened slightly, her soft voice filled with deep anger, "I meant every word I said!"
The aura around Cyrus Hawthorne suddenly turned icy and menacing, indescribable in its terror.
Yet Ann Vaughn, carried away by her emotions, paid no heed to fear, the emotions long suppressed in her heart found a vent and surged out without any brewing needed.
"It was you who left me alone at the villa, you who flirted with other women, chatting intimately! Why can you have a garden in bloom while I can’t even speak two words to another man!"
"I admit I was wrong to stop you from launching the MX plan, but have you ever thought about the panic that plan would cause among nations if launched? What would be the consequences if found out?"
"You never thought about it, just scolded me!"
The more Ann Vaughn spoke, the more choked her voice became, without thinking she bit down on Cyrus Hawthorne’s index finger, even the corners of her eyes were flushed red, "Petty jerk!"
She didn’t notice at all that upon hearing her latter words, a faint warm smile began to spread in Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes.
Was the little one... jealous?
The pain at the fingertip was neither light nor heavy, yet it dispelled much of the gloom in Cyrus Hawthorne’s chest, his stern face softened as though snow melting, his tense jawline gradually relaxed, thin lips retaining a smile.
Thinking of Ann Vaughn foolishly making herself sick with a fever just to prevent him from launching MX, she was afraid he would fall into danger, and not deliberately harming her own body.
Cyrus Hawthorne reached out to caress Ann Vaughn’s delicate, adorable earlobe, gently pinching it.
Only when he felt her shiver all over did he explain in a deep voice, "The girl you saw at that time was a child of the Hawthorne Family, she greeted me, I couldn’t just ignore her."
Ann Vaughn, overwhelmed by anger, hadn’t realized she had already inadvertently revealed her heart, slightly startled by this explanation.
A child of the Hawthorne Family?
Wasn’t that Cyrus Hawthorne’s kin?
"As for the other person..." at this point, Cyrus Hawthorne’s gaze darkened, "If you must say I chatted warmly with her, it was merely to comfort a certain fool who drank alcohol like a soda so that her stomach wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable."
But that fool not only flirted with her but also wouldn’t let go of the woman’s arm, saying nonstop, "Miss, come home with me, I’ll take care of you."
Hearing this made him wish he had never let that woman appear in front of Ann Vaughn.
"Uh?" Ann Vaughn’s small mouth pursed, memories of that night resurfacing in her mind, a sudden realization flashing in her eyes.
So that young lady who brought her hot milk, covered her with a coat, and sent her into a car, was called by Cyrus Hawthorne?
She had thought they were chatting about life goals, stars, and the moon, but it turned out to be her own overthinking causing trouble...
Upon thinking of this, the flame in Ann Vaughn’s demeanor immediately dissipated, shrinking back timidly into a bundle, unable to form words: "I, I..."
"I have already answered your questions, so now it’s my turn." A faint, indiscernible smile crossed Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes, as he brushed his bitten fingertip against her cheek, his narrow eyes deep and swirling like a vortex, "I will give you only one chance to answer."
"Huh?" Ann Vaughn looked at him puzzled.
"Even if I indeed was with other women, you also wouldn’t care, is that truly how you feel?"
His voice, extremely low and deep, struck against her ears, causing Ann Vaughn’s heart to tense up and her gaze to shift around wildly.
That was just nonsense she uttered when drunk, with so many things said that night, why did he remember only this sentence?
Ann Vaughn’s gaze flickered around, avoiding looking at Cyrus Hawthorne, the blush on her cheeks almost spreading to her pale neck.
She subconsciously wanted to dodge this topic, but Cyrus Hawthorne gave her no such opportunity, staring intently into her face with patient, steady dark eyes, waiting for her answer.
Ann Vaughn’s panicked and helpless heart gradually calmed down, she turned her head resting her cheek against Cyrus Hawthorne’s shoulder, so he couldn’t see her expression, responding in a muffled voice, "It’s false."
Even just seeing him standing next to another woman made her so uncomfortable she could barely breathe, how could she possibly not care if he was with other women?
But before this, she always instinctively avoided facing this issue, not daring to think about it, afraid to try again.
Until now, when she could no longer avoid it.
It turns out that habits become illnesses, not healing over time, only worsening as time passes.
Just like liking, just like waiting.