"Sorry, I'm late." After quite a rush to deal with the tense street traffic. Abihirt took the right position facing each other with Barbara. He observed the sour face that was barely trying to be hidden. It seemed that the woman had waited too long for what he was trying to think. Abihirt understood, and he hoped Barbara should understand that important meetings did take up more time, especially if some unexpected parts came up to fill in the gaps left between serious discussions. Yet, here was Barbara. Abihirt frowned briefly, acting a bit calm and mature in the face of an angry woman. Leaving Barbara waiting alone for almost half an hour might have been the part to handle. Alone. Yes, perhaps that should be underlined as well. Abihirt's gray eyes moved. It was only then that he realized that the whole time he had been walking into the restaurant he had missed something odd between them. The silence was almost devoid of a single patron. Abihirt locked Barbara's face ag
It didn't seem like the right decision to go home alone. Abihirt was barely able to control the steering wheel properly after having to deal with the serious urges that were building up inside him the whole time. His entire chest and throat felt like they were on fire. He had already contacted Roger, sending him Barbara's home address so that he could catch up, or if things didn't go as planned, Roger would arrive first. Abihirt had searched for the fastest way home, the least traveled. But that, too, seemed to be a big mistake. Instead of the darkening skyline accompanying the faint sounds in the air, wild bikers were ungraciously making their presence known. One after another popped up. They were speeding. Then one of the bikers had an absolute collision. Abihirt made a steep slam-his foot pressed against the brake until it jerked violently forward, while the man with the head protector rolled several times onto the asphalt. The dragged motorcycle brutally sparks until it comes to
"What are you doing here, Moreau?" Abihirt's question was like a lump of meat that made Moreau's throat tighten. She didn't know how to answer, when it seemed like there was something her stepather was trying to hold back in front of so many people. And perhaps, because Moreau was still silent for a long time. Juan's voice soon chimed in. "I brought Moreau to this place, Mr. Lincoln. Please don't scold her." "I'm not talking to you." The gray eyes glared unusually sharply. Moreau instinctively pushed against Juan's chest to make the man beside her back away. She realized they had become a spectacle. This was no longer about a wild race, but how Abihirt barely cared about the people around him. Moreau didn't want anything to go wrong. Struggling to force her groaning tongue to speak. "I-I, just got here. Juan said there's a racing show, so we'll just be spectators. That's all. You... why are you in this place too?" However, the relationship between them was something Moreau
They reached the courtyard faster than Moreau could have imagined after doubting Abihirt's ability to drive most of the way. A man who was not well, but insisted on driving. Moreau still had that half-knowledge in the top of her head as she watched Abihirt walk almost in a huff towards a man who seemed to have been waiting for a long time. They only spoke briefly, but Moreau witnessed Abihirt's hurried steps to reach the living room. She trailed behind and swallowed harshly as her stepfather roughly flopped down on the sofa, while the other man was pulling something out of a leather briefcase. "What are you doing?" Moreau understood that the man she had been observing from the start was a doctor. She just wanted to know what specifically was being done-she mean, in what kind of order or illness that Abihirt seemed to have an urgency that needed to be dealt with immediately. "No need to worry, Miss Riveri. I am Roger, Abi's personal physician.
[Darling, I'm staying at Ferarra's house. We're having a drinking party. I won't be able to drive later. No need to wait for me and I don't want you to pick me up either. You can go to bed first. I love you. Love, Barbara]. That was last night's message. Abihirt exhaled roughly and put the handheld cell phone back on the glass table. Roger had given him medicine, but it felt like he was really going to catch a fever. His entire body was incredibly crushed, stiff, and the bones between his hands and feet were aching. Abihirt winced as he tried to get up. Slowly resting his back on the back of the sofa. There was no one in the living room. The memory of Roger that same night, telling him that the man had said goodbye, had given him a long rant. It would have been better if he wasn't here. The fact that Roger could make the top of his head throb was something Abihirt could not shake off. He tentatively reached out to grab the cell phone b
The repeated knocking on the door demanded Moreau to leave the bed. She needed to know who was out there, and what business it was to look for her at this time of day. Perhaps Barbara? Moreau let out a rough breath knowing it was too improbable. Barbara was definitely not at home. There was only one person left. However, Moreau could not ignore what she felt was important here. Slowly... after the door opened, Moreau held her breath even though she had guessed exactly who was looming in front of the room. Abihirt was dressed in a long, thin garment that traced the abdominal muscles hiding there. Moreau did not know if she could offer any tolerance to Abihirt's overly sturdy and perfect appearance. Really, it felt like that unexpected night never tried to leave her mind, no matter how much she tried. Moreau almost unconsciously swallowed harshly. Still waiting for when Abihirt would say something. The man looked down slightly, while she was looking up
Moreau spent all the time she had left in the room after the misunderstanding she couldn't even explain, whether to tell Abihirt the thick soup on her palm wasn't something the man should respond to, or to issue a warning that they were better off keeping their distance. Moreau didn't want another night of mistakes, almost desperate to think of something that felt truly horrible. It was too dangerous for them to be in such close quarters, for Moreau herself could not deny the attraction of her stepfather which was like offering a magnet, but she tried not to cling. Fortunately Abihirt was completely silent, and most importantly the man was no longer looking for her. A bit of relief. However, Moreau's throat felt parched. She wanted a drink. Trying hard to guess. Perhaps Abihirt was in the room, dealing with a feverish condition; who knew what now. Moreau grunted, then got out of bed. Hadn't Barbara returned home? She was sure the woman would be taking
Moreau had almost fallen asleep, but the faint sound of a knock on the door pulled her back to the surface. She lifted half of her body just to take in the dim situation in the room. It was already too late, wondering who... wouldn't stop knocking until Moreau made up her mind to make sure. She knew her mother did not have this kind of habit in the middle of the night. Strange. Moreau blinked rapidly and began to wonder... could it be Abihirt who was outside? She wasn't sure considering the man had left the house some time ago, but would confirm for herself by pulling back the thick blanket, then taking tentative steps towards the door of the room. It was dim enough to leave an eerie impression. Moreau stared for a moment at the copper algae, while taking a deep breath. She first grasped the whole of it, applied a little pressure, then pulled the door frame inward. The towering figure of a man. After an early detection that turned out to be correct, Moreau still faced a process
"So hard, that you'll forget how to be yourself."Her stepfather's statement was spoken without emotion. However, for some reason Moreau felt there was something odd when the man decided not to say anything against the judgment she gave to someone—supposedly her mother's father-in-law. "What does that mean?" she asked slowly. Perhaps there would be another time. Not now, after feeling inappropriate to talk about something irrelevant. Let Abihirt reveal the answer. "Not all heirs will always inherit everything their parents had. I pioneered." That sounded sarcastic, but Moreau didn't expect Abihirt's statement to be directed at her. There was a note of inheritance from Jeremias Riveri—though up until this point Barbara seemed to have no interest in simply urging her to start an important lesson on the need to cultivate a company. Perhaps there was some purpose in her being preoccupied with the various activities of her figure skating career. Against a body
"You closed it down? Wait...who are you? The owner of the mall?"Nor would she be able to hold back any longer. An overreaction that might have amused Abihirt, so much so that there was almost a smile before it was drowned out by a touch on the top of her head. "I am the highest shareholder." Abihirt replied calmly. The man was rich. Moreau understood, but never thought that her stepfather would be willing to sacrifice the most important part of his income just to have some fun; to enjoy the remaining time between them. "How big of a stake do you have to be this influential?" she asked again to make sure something might sound more reasonable. "95%." Damn it, Moreau was stunned for a moment. It wasn't just a share, but there was a trend where Abihirt's position was almost at the line of complete owner of a mall of this size. "You're not afraid of losing your mall profits just because you want to have an affair here?" Not knowing that stat
"You often see me and Juan training and also attending tournaments. There seems to be another reason or do you have an interest here, hence the sponsorship of our activities?" she asked with some form of suspicion. Perhaps it was just curiosity. She was sure it must be someone with a particular interest to be able to do all this. "My mother was a figure skater." There was something strange in Abihirt's deep, raspy voice, but Moreau didn't understand where the correlation between something burdensome the man was feeling and what they had in common—meaning... the woman who had given birth to such a handsome man. "Wouldn't it be great if your mom was a figure skating ex. You can bring me to meet her and I can learn more—" "Do you want to meet her in the grave?" Just like that. Moreau was silent for a moment. She really never meant to or at least not to offend Abihirt. The man didn't say it from the start and made the information seem like a surprise.
"Your skates, Sir...." A servant came to hand over something Abihirt had requested, but his attention was riveted straight on watching Moreau's beautiful form still moving on the ice. The girl was spinning. Moving her legs. Like surfing, but it all looked exactly the same awesome pattern. He remembered how he always played a video of his mother doing something similar. There was almost a resemblance. The only difference was that Moreau knew how to rebel, while there was the desperate variety of a woman who decided to end her life after facing the attitude of a cowardly husband—even as a father... the old bastard was irresponsible. Abihirt did not want to remember all the events that were listed as part of the worst of his life. A moment to turn his attention to the man who was still waiting for an answer. "Just put it down." Just a short order; done immediately, then the man walked backwards. At first there was no intention of just being here. H
Moreau walked first. Deliberately widening her stride with a steady pace, but that did not deny that Abihirt would stop whatever she was doing. The man's touch on her wrist was a testament, then a tug left her stuck against the wall. "You're angry." Abihirt's deep, raspy voice sounded almost like a whisper, filled with labored breathing when their faces were so close. Moreau swallowed roughly. Wishing she could forget some things, she deliberately turned her face away from looking directly into her stepfather's eyes. There was nothing to talk about for now. It would be useless if they tried to just build something that wasn't. "I know you're angry. Your mother used to act like this too." Abihirt spoke again, but Moreau was a little incredulous that the man would bring Barbara into the conversation. There was no correlation between her, who was trying to seem okay, trying not to explode at any significant time, and her mother who probably had some quirks and
Abihirt seemed to have something to talk about, but they understood the moments where not to make even the slightest noise, though the man's excited breathing was still enough to leave an impression and Moreau did not want to get bogged down for too long. She probably needed to start things off by slightly avoiding anything that would make the situation feel complicated. They didn't deserve to hold hands. Nothing could describe the specifics of how they should behave, other than the full knowledge of something that could hardly be called a date with her mother's husband. How bitter. Moreau almost grinned sarcastically, then she hid her hand between the crack of her tightly clasped legs. Abihirt wouldn't be able to do anything more than insist that they start things without talking first. At the very least, she wanted to know what was holding her stepfather back for so long that he could barely be here. Office work? The business with Froy? Or perhaps Barbara had come to h
It had been more than an hour since the movie had started. Moreau had no idea where Abihirt had gone, but the man never arrived at the place they had promised. She had even sent several messages, including the barcode of the movie ticket and none of them could imply the prospect that Abihirt would read it. Perhaps the man had never really intended to, had deliberately left Moreau waiting and ended up sitting almost alone here. It was necessary to underline the existence of the others—the audience who were enjoying the storyline. However, it was not the same as someone having said they would be present, even if they were not. Abihirt had a desire not to give Juan a chance. With irony, it made Moreau feel half annoyed. She had been desperately holding back by not agreeing to Juan's request—when the offer of a movie night was made again, while they knew Abihirt was making her hopes dashed. The man's purpose was uncertain, like a puzzle and Moreau had to swallow forcibly.
"Sorry to trouble you, Caroline." Moreau had an uneasy feeling when she reached the kitchen, only to find that Caroline had finished almost all the work. She only had to wait for the dough that was still being fried in hot oil to cook. It wouldn't take much longer. The golden brown color had already begun to surface. There was also a melt that became a memorable part of the bowl and did not go unnoticed. "This is my duty, Miss. After all, Master asked for it directly. But I didn't see him. Didn't he leave with you earlier on important business?" "Who said that?" asked Moreau instinctively, almost unconsciously raising one high eyebrow while looking at Caroline's distorted face. "Just guessing when he asked me to keep the ballpoint pen he used.” The woman added a nervous smile, between the fear of misspeaking. However, Moreau would understand her. She shook her head vaguely—determined not to leave an odd impression on Caroline. "I just went to my r
Engulfed in a rough exhale, Moreau stared into Abihirt's gray eyes while keeping something dangling from the top of her head. Little did she realize that the man's chest was also heaving. This was about the matter and they were dealing with it, so she felt she had the right to ask her stepfather directly. "Did you also do something this rude to my mother?" Not knowing whether it was a fatal mistake or not. Moreau was willing to take the risk. Letting the silence take root for a while was like studying the situation between them, but slowly the man shook his head vaguely; giving Moreau a hint that she was facing the worst prospect. "Then why did you do such a rude thing to me?" she asked, almost bitterly. Still about the forbidden agreement. Perhaps this was the space where she should learn irony. "Don't you want it too?" Abihirt's deep, raspy voice sounded like he was making sure. Moreau blinked briefly. What could be said? There were serious repercussio