“Um…” Olivia was about to ask, but Isabella didn’t give her the chance at all.
“What ‘um’ are you talking about? I’ll be back; I need to use the restroom.” Isabella tossed her suitcase to Olivia and walked toward the direction of the restroom, clicking her heels.
Standing at the restroom door, she held her phone in her left hand and inexplicably dialed Andrew’s number.
She didn’t know why, but right now, she really wanted to hear his voice.
After a few rings, the call was answered, and Andrew’s deep, appealing voice came through. “Isabella?”
“Yeah,” Isabella responded in a subdued tone, her voice slightly nasal.
He sensitively detected something amiss in her voice and instinctively furrowed his brow. “What happened?”
In his eyes, Isabella was a troublemaker, always capable of stirring up trouble anytime, anywhere.
She sniffed, a bit annoyed. Couldn’t she call him without something being wrong?
“Nothing, I just suddenly missed you a bit,” she replied.
“Well, then keep missing me,” Andrew chuckled. Flying from Ithaca town to Spain takes about four hours; even if he had wings now, he couldn’t fly to her side.
“Hmph, I don’t have time to keep missing you. I have to board now,” she said, feeling her ears redden.
There was a faint chuckle on the other end of the call, then he asked, “What time does your flight land? Should I pick you up?”
“No need,” she lazily replied.
Andrew didn’t insist; in fact, he couldn’t spare the time either. “Let the driver pick you up, and we’ll have dinner together tonight.”
She wanted to refuse, but before she could say anything, he had already hung up the phone.
He was quite resolute, not even giving her the right to refuse.
Isabella started to doubt again. Did she perhaps treat him a bit too well, letting him lack the understanding of being taken care of?
The rumored “kept man” should be fierce in bed like a wild beast yet gentle as a lamb underneath, serving the master obediently.
She shook her head helplessly, deciding not to argue with him for the time being.
Flying back from Spain to Ithaca town took four and a half hours. Due to flight delays, the landing was in the evening, and when she exited the airport, it was already dimly lit.
Andrew’s driver had waited outside the airport for almost two hours before picking up Isabella.
“Ma’am, hello, I’m Mr. Andrew’s driver. He asked me to pick you up first and take you to the hotel,” the driver said respectfully.
Isabella smiled, looking at the driver in his thirties, very presentable and neatly dressed in a suit with a meticulously tied tie. He was quite the image of a professional.
“Mr. Andrew?” There was a hint of playfulness in her smile. She wondered how many employees her jobless vagabond could have.
“Ma’am, please get in the car,” the driver bowed, opening the car door.
Handing her luggage to the driver, Isabella bent and got into the car.
The driver quickly and efficiently placed her luggage in the trunk before sitting swiftly in the driver’s seat.
This Toyota SUV had just been picked up from the shop three hours ago and was the cheapest car he had driven following the boss.
Actually, the driver was quite puzzled. Boss’s garage was filled with luxury cars more numerous than the shoes in a woman’s closet. He couldn’t understand why, when picking up his girlfriend, the boss insisted on buying an economic small jeep. When he first heard his instructions, he thought it was a joke.
The driver drove fast and steady, soon entering the city area, and stopping in front of a five-star hotel.
The doorman at the hotel seemed familiar with the driver. After a few instructions from the driver, the doorman led Isabella to an elevator that went up to the top floor.
On the top floor of the hotel were two private meeting rooms, one of which was exclusively for Andrew’s use.
Isabella didn’t understand these things, but she had heard that some small companies unable to afford office space would rent hotel rooms for office use. So, when the driver brought her to the hotel, she didn’t find it surprising.
The doorman handed her a dedicated key card, and Isabella used it to open the door.
Inside the room, the decoration and furnishings exuded an understated luxury. Beneath her feet lay thick Persian carpets, and her high heels made no sound as she stepped on them.
In the center of the office area sat a heavy large desk, with two computers and piles of documents stacked on its surface. Two men sat by the desk, one was Andrew, and the other had his back to her, making his face indistinguishable.
Andrew knew she had entered but didn’t take his gaze away from the computer screen. He simply said, “Go to the next room and rest for a while. I’ll come find you when I’m done.”
She pouted slightly, feeling a bit displeased, but obediently went to the adjacent room.
The next room was a small reception room, with a simple arrangement of sofas and a coffee table. She leaned against the sofa, casually picked up a magazine, and began flipping through it. As she flipped through, her eyelids began to feel heavy.
She had just finished a 24-hour reality show, rested for only one night, and endured another four-plus hours of flying. Fatigue overcame her, so she simply covered her face with the magazine and fell asleep on the sofa.
In a half-dream state, she suddenly felt something light on her face. Then, her entire body sank into warmth, and between breaths, she could sense the strong masculine scent of a man, mingled with a hint of tobacco.
Isabella slowly opened her eyes and found herself in Andrew’s enlarged handsome face, with him holding her in his arms.
“Why are you sleeping here? Be careful not to catch a cold,” he said in his deep and magnetic voice, laced with gentleness and concern.
She was a little breathless in his embrace, subconsciously struggled a few times, but didn’t manage to break free. Instead, she reached out and encircled her arms around his neck.
“I’m hungry and tired again; the airplane food is terrible,” she complained with her lips pouted slightly.
Her golden-colored eyes blinked, shining brightly. Her fair cheeks even displayed a hint of distress.
Andrew’s sturdy heart unexpectedly softened at that moment. He faintly smiled and, involuntarily, tightened his arm around her waist, pressing their bodies closer together.
Isabella could even feel his strong and vigorous heartbeat. The air around them seemed to grow warmer, making it hard to breathe.
To avoid suffocating in his arms, she shifted her attention to a painting hanging on the wall.
“Do you still like oil paintings?” Isabella spoke while pushing him away, jumped off the sofa, and walked to the painting on the wall.
In truth, she knew nothing about oil paintings and could only see that the painting was somewhat yellowed, appearing to be an antique piece. In Isabella’s aesthetic sense, she simply couldn’t appreciate it.
She widened her eyes, staring at the painting for a while. Eventually, she only understood the signature at the bottom: “Christopher White.”
“Is this… a painting by Christopher White?” she said with some surprise.