FakeNovelChapter 192
"Did you get the agreement notarized?"
A tangled knot of emotions tightened in Timothy's chest.
So that was why she'd cto collect the notarization receipt?
"You seem awfully eager about this," he said.
Jessica nodded.
"You really don't trust me, do you?" His voice was cool, almost detached.
She didn't deny it. She couldn't. Twas a luxury he had a lifetime, perhaps. She only had six months left. She
couldn't afford to waste even a day.
Jessica stayed silent.
Timothy's handsface was unreadable, his eyes clouded with something distant.
Her silence said it all.
He pulled back the lapel of his suit and took his phone from the inside pocket, dialing the lawyer.
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"Is the agreement notarized?"
"It's done."
"Send the receipt to my office."
Timothy put his phone away, turning to meet Jessica's icy, impenetrable stare. Lips pressed in a thin line, he
crossed to the desk and picked up the phone, dialing his secretary.
"Bring in a glass of fresh orange juice."
Jessica's eyelashes fluttered.
Timothy set the receiver down and leaned against the desk, quietly studying her.
It was just past ten in the morning. Sunlight spilled golden across the office, but even that couldn't chase away
the coldness hanging in the air.
Click-
The faint sound made Jessica look up.
Timothy had flicked his lighter, and the tip of his cigarette glowed as smoke drifted lazily from his lips. The
subtle, woodsy scent curled through the room, deepening the air of mystery that seemed to surround him these
days, making him only more dangerously attractive.
But she still couldn't read him.
A knock at the door broke the tense silence.
"Cin," Timothy called.
Secretary Allen entered, carrying a glass of orange juice, and set it down beside Jessica, politely saying, "Here
you go, ma'am."
At that moment, the lawyer arrived, handing over a notarization receipt.
"All set, Mr. Lawson."
"Give it to her."
Jessica took the slip, glanced at it, and, once they'd both left, slipped it into her bag and stood to go.
"Your lips are chapped. Drink the juice before you leave," Timothy's deep voice called from behind her.
She didn't want to make a scene, so she picked up the glass.
"Are you planning to disappear tonight? Planning not to chome?"
The glass slipped from Jessica's hand, crashing to the floor. Orange juice and shards of glass splattered across
the carpet.
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He knew.
Timothy stepped toward her, tilting her chin up with a long finger. His refined features were so close, just a
breath away. "Did | hit a nerve? Is that why you're so jumpy?"
His breath washed over her, warm and laced with that distinctive smoky scent. Jessica was always a little on
edge around him, afraid that if she didn't escape now, Timothy would find sway to drag her back home.
Suddenly, he let her go, taking a drag of his cigarette. Smoke curled around her face.
He stubbed out the cigarette, then caught her by the waist and pressed her down onto the sofa.
His eyes were cold, sharp as a knife's gleam.
"Answer me. Are you?"
His grip pinned her, leaving her unable to sign or gesture.
She pressed her lips together, trying to push him away. He bent down and kissed her-hard.
She shoved at his chest, fists pounding in panic.
A sharp hiss escaped Timothy as he released her.
Jessica's gaze darted to the bandage at his neck, now stained red.
She'd struck his wound by accident.
Timothy's brows drew tight with pain, jaw clenched, his hand hovering near his neck before falling to his side.
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