Chapter 631: Chapter 631: Want to Eat Her?
It was a WeChat message from Ann Vaughn.
[This is the dinner Kenny and I are having tonight, you get my drift, right?]
Attached was a picture of a table full of tempting dishes, with an emoji of a bunny wielding a whip and looking adorably fierce next to it.
Through the cold screen, Cyrus Hawthorne could almost see her face full of dissatisfaction, reminding him to eat on time.
On that frost-covered, handsome face, a hint of warmth unconsciously appeared.
"President Hawthorne?" Mark Joyce cautiously spoke up in reminder.
At those words, Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes lifted slightly, gazing at the half moon hanging in the dark night, his thin lips curled up, "The moonlight is nice tonight."
With that said, he then stepped away from the place.
Mark Joyce stood there dumbfounded for a while, finally understanding the second half of the boss’s words.
The moonlight is nice tonight, not a night for excessive bloodshed.
So... it meant to let the person who answered first go.
"What a stroke of luck." Mark Joyce glanced at the two people still hanging above the pool, murmuring to himself.
Just happened to catch the moment Miss Vaughn sent a message to the boss.
After releasing one of them, Mark Joyce then instructed the hidden guard watching the pool checkpoint, "Let Little Shark up."
"Yes."
Soon, the once calm pool surface stirred into great waves again in a blink.
After dealing with the subsequent matters, Mark Joyce hurried back to the car and handed the tablet in his hands to Cyrus Hawthorne, who was resting in the back seat.
"President Hawthorne, they just sent over the detailed information on Aidan Keating, which shows Aidan Keating is Madam’s... adopted son."
"Oh?"
Looking at the content displayed on the information, Mark Joyce sensed things might take a bad turn, "President Hawthorne, should we inform Madam about this?"
After all, Aidan Keating is currently in their hands.
"Wait." With no expression change on Cyrus Hawthorne’s face, his eyes gently closed, he calmly uttered a word.
...
The bathtub was covered with rose petals, Ann Vaughn lay comfortably in it, moments away from drifting to sleep.
Ding dong.
The phone placed nearby suddenly rang, Ann Vaughn opened her eyes, picked up the phone, and clicked into Cyrus Hawthorne’s chat box.
[No appeal.]
Seeing this line, Ann Vaughn pouted, that whole table of food had no appeal? Was he just making an excuse not to eat dinner?
[Then what, a full course banquet will be appealing?]
After typing these words and sending them off, Ann Vaughn thought it would take a while to get a reply, but surprisingly, there was an instant response from the other side.
Only a single, brief word.
[You.]
Ann Vaughn: "..."
Ahhhhh!!!
Would this man die if he didn’t flirt with her! Would he!!
The phone in her hand suddenly became red hot, Ann Vaughn almost wanted to throw it into the water, drown it as if that could drown Cyrus Hawthorne.
No.
She can’t retreat whenever she’s flirted with, that would only bolster his brazen confidence!
After repeatedly taking deep breaths, Ann Vaughn was about to type a reply to Cyrus Hawthorne, when she suddenly remembered what Uncle Dexter had said before dinner.
Everyone inside Hawthorne Corp. is busy negotiating a major billion-dollar collaboration deal, and Cyrus Hawthorne might stay at the company overnight.
He won’t be home tonight, then...
Ann Vaughn’s eyes rolled, devilish horns suddenly sprouted on her head, a mischievous grin forming on her pretty face.
Want to have her? Well, keep dreaming, it’s free after all!
Meanwhile.
A black Maybach cruised steadily along the highway.
Cyrus Hawthorne was listening to Mark Joyce report on some key issues of that collaboration deal, optimizing the commute back to the company.
It’s not just Hawthorne Corp eyeing that collaboration, The White Family and the Saxon Family, prominent clans in The Imperial Capital, are also vying for it, promising a fierce competition ahead.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s brows furrowed slightly, long fingers flipping through the documents in his hand, murmuring after a moment, "Pull up the information of the person in charge of the opposing project."
"Yes." Mark Joyce found the previously investigated information on the tablet and sent it to Cyrus Hawthorne.
"Notify the department heads to meet in the conference room in half an hour." Cyrus Hawthorne picked up a phone from the side, unlocked it, and casually glanced over.
The lock screen interface had remained on Ann Vaughn’s chat screen since the start, and when opened, the first thing on display was naturally that interface.
—Along with the photo Ann Vaughn just sent.
Visible was skin smooth and creamy as sheep’s fat jade, a beautifully slender swan neck.
The gaze followed down from the stunning collarbones, to slightly exposed snowy peaks, with valleys hidden in between, a captivating allure that almost made one’s nose bleed.
Clearly, not much was shown; it stopped right at that teasing borderline.
Yet, it’s often this veiled ambiguity that is the most alluring.
Instantly, the aloofness in the man’s eyes was swallowed whole by shadowy light, leaving only layers of fiery intensity that couldn’t be dissolved, and...
Desire.
His sensually curved Adam’s apple bobbed a few times, his eyes, black as night, narrowed and reflected a beastly danger.
Obviously, had the prey been right here, it likely would have been devoured quite completely.
Under the photo was also a line of text.
[Tonight, the Emperor shall not summon, all of thee withdraw!]
The words dripped with the owner’s arrogance and boastfulness.
Simply... provoking.
Cyrus Hawthorne raised a hand and loosened his tie, his heated long fingers unintentionally brushed over his thin lips, the temperature radiating as if molten lava resided in his veins, searing with relentless flame.
Sitting in the front seat, Mark Joyce hesitated on whether to proceed with the report.
Something about President Hawthorne’s expression seemed... alarmingly intimidating.
...
Feeling satisfied after launching a strong counter, Ann Vaughn returned to her room and flopped into her bed, soon falling asleep.
What she didn’t know was, in the children’s room, Little Dumpling, seeing that she didn’t come for room check, climbed out of bed and powered on the computer.
With just one mysterious bat image, it’s nearly impossible to find any clues.
But Kenny felt something odd about that bat, having lived here for a while now, he hadn’t heard of bats flying by.
And it was peeping outside his mommy’s room!
Wonder if the bounty list accepts assassination missions for bats?
Kenny, little head moving, tapped into the chat group and asked for opinions.
Royal Guard: ...No wonder they say a genius’s mind is different from us mere mortals, huh?
Eve: Hahaha, I really believe My Little King might only be three and a half now, such a cute thought, come give sister a hug!
Spade J: Why are you all so cruel, My Little King is earnestly seeking help, and you laugh at him, hahahaha!
Lord: Which specific bat? Any photos?
Finally seeing someone reliable, Little Dumpling stopped pouting, just because no one posted such missions doesn’t mean no one would take it!
NUE: My Little King, how did you come up with the idea of assassinating a bat?