Chapter 605: Chapter 605: Are You Trying to Kill Me?
Ann Vaughn’s body temperature suddenly dropped, her eyes fixed on the few photos in the email of her coming out of the pharmacy and the enlarged box of contraceptive pills.
It turned out that when she helped Vera White buy medicine, someone secretly took photos...
Not only were they taken secretly, but someone sent these photos to Cyrus Hawthorne.
Moreover, when Ann Vaughn exited this email, she saw that there were actually a dozen emails with the same content lying in the mailbox, all with different account names.
Probably the result of being blacklisted and then resent with changed accounts.
The one Ann Vaughn saw now was the latest.
Just by looking at it, Ann Vaughn felt an indescribable anger stirring in her heart. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.
But for some reason, the tip of her nose gradually felt sour, and an indescribable fullness spread in her chest.
The date these emails were first sent to Cyrus Hawthorne’s mailbox was on the day she finalized the endorsement contract with Quinn.
After that, he clearly had many opportunities to ask her how these photos came about and whether she had done anything to betray him.
But the fact that he blacklisted the email accounts was proof enough that he gave her absolute trust, making asking seem entirely unnecessary...
Ann Vaughn always felt that Cyrus Hawthorne had no trust in her, and she was somewhat distressed about it.
But she overlooked that perhaps he didn’t speak out of his own reasons and concerns, not due to a lack of trust.
Coupled with the fact that these photos could easily give rise to ambiguous and suspicious thoughts, he probably had doubts in his heart but still chose to trust her.
Thus... why couldn’t she return him the same level of trust?
At this moment, the bathroom door opened, and the man in a black silk robe held a white towel, drying his wet, ink-black hair as he stepped out of the bathroom and headed toward the mini-bar in the room.
Those ink-like deep eyes were half-hidden under slightly wet hair, resembling a lurking beast, with all sharpness concealed.
Yet, before he could reach the bar, he saw the petite figure suddenly plunge into his arms like a swallow darting into the forest.
Cyrus Hawthorne quickly caught her body, his hand clasping her waist as he steadied her, lightly reprimanding with a bit of displeasure, "Not afraid of falling?"
"Hmm... I want to hold you." Ann Vaughn wrapped her arms around his lean waist, her cheek rubbing against his chest through the smooth robe fabric, like a spoiled kitten.
With just one rub, the fire the man had barely restrained in the bathroom suddenly blazed uncontrollably, like a spark igniting a prairie fire.
And it was even more intense than before, impossible to resist.
With a tender beauty in his arms, he wasn’t like Galahad, naturally feeling something.
"Spoiled." Cyrus Hawthorne’s magnetic voice lowered several degrees, hoarse and restrained, "Are you trying to take my life?"
The abrupt question seemed directionless, but Ann Vaughn, who had just endured a humiliating experience at the bathroom door, instantly understood his meaning.
She hurriedly straightened up from Cyrus Hawthorne’s slightly cool embrace, her face flushed red as she backed away several steps, glaring at him in accusation.
"Can’t you think about anything other than that?!"
Cyrus Hawthorne’s brows slightly lifted, showing no intention of repentance, leisurely replied, "Conditions don’t permit, limited to just thoughts."
Ann Vaughn: ??? You sound regretful??
What kind of wolf den did she fall into??
"I knew you only liked my body!" Ann Vaughn huffed, collapsing onto the soft bed behind her, wrapping herself in the quilt.
Feeling safe, she started speaking recklessly, trying to tease the tiger.
Yet, Cyrus Hawthorne didn’t get angry, turned to take a bottle of ice water from the fridge, drank it down to quell the heat in his abdomen, only then putting down the empty bottle, walking slowly towards Ann Vaughn.
Poor Ann Vaughn thought she was safe wrapped in the quilt, not knowing it was no different from trapping herself.
After turning off the main light in the room, Cyrus Hawthorne leaned over, pressing the defenseless lamb beneath him, his long fingers lifting her chin, making her look directly at him.
"Don’t mess around, taking too many cold showers might make you sick." Ann Vaughn knew he wouldn’t touch her, her courage swelled, daring to provoke him.
Upon hearing this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin lips curled into a light smile.
Uh?
...
The night was cool as water, the cold wind rustling.
The room was warm as spring, with a faint fragrance in the air.
Ann Vaughn half nestled into Cyrus Hawthorne’s chest, her body covered in fragrant sweat, her eyes drooping tiredly.
"By the way, Julian Ford mentioned over the phone that Evan Sawyer just broke up." Suddenly remembering this, Ann Vaughn reluctantly roused herself, murmuring, "Could it have been me that scared him off?"
"It has nothing to do with you." Cyrus Hawthorne pinched her soft and delicate hand, explaining indifferently, "Love cannot contain too many lies, they couldn’t last long."
Speaking of this, Ann Vaughn was no longer sleepy.
She poked Cyrus Hawthorne’s chest, asking with some excitement, "I thought you men would be deceived by such a fragile face of hers; I didn’t expect someone with such discerning eyes."
"Thank you for the compliment." Cyrus Hawthorne chuckled softly, letting his chin rest casually atop her soft hair, "Evan Sawyer was temporarily trapped by emotions, inevitably losing basic judgment. Once he comes to his senses, he’ll figure out the key point."
Detecting his insinuation, Ann Vaughn pouted, "Willow White started it; I wouldn’t blame Evan Sawyer for it."
"Also, shouldn’t you now explain what kind of relationship you have with Miya Yates?" Saying this, Ann Vaughn lifted her head, taking the chance to probe.
Although she said she’d give him equal trust, it didn’t stop her from gossiping, right!
Ah, women, aren’t they magical creatures made of seventy percent water and thirty percent gossip (not really).
Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips slightly curved, his deep eyes gazing at her, "Then shouldn’t you also explain what’s going on between you and Sutton Jennings?"
Cough cough—
Ann Vaughn’s little neck stiffened, the brave head shrinking back under the covers, closing her eyes to self-hypnotize, "Suddenly so sleepy, I’m asleep..."
Last time she didn’t say anything, he had already guessed Sutton Jennings confessed to her.
It proves that old issues shouldn’t be dredged up, lest they land back on oneself.