Chapter 9
Despite my best efforts to avoid him, Lucas managed to infiltrate my workplace under the pretext of discussing revisions to the ad campaign.
My colleagues noticed the dynamic, exchanging knowing glances.
Lucas, with his sharp features and easy charm, quickly won them over.
I tried relocating my workspace several times but each move was futile. I could only hold my temper and pounded away at my keyboard.
I was determined to finish the project as quickly as possible.
Lucas was working on the computer and would pass me water from time to time.
I couldn’t help but sarcastically ask, “Aren‘ t you busy, Mr. Wilson?”
“For you, Harper, I always have time, he replied calmly.
I sneered, “No patients needing your care today?”
His expression darkened slightly.” “It’s not like that with Isabella and me.
“Why should I care?” I retorted, my eyes fixed on the screen in front of me..
He looked at me intently. “If there’s something you don‘ t like about me, I’ll change. I’ll keep trying until you like me again.
Lucas‘ s earnestness was disarming, almost impossible to ignore.
Soon, everyone in the office knew he was pursuing me.
Even our boss seemed amused, often suggesting we give it another try.
“Harper, Mr. Wilson is quite the catch. You should consider giving him a chance,” the boss would say with a chuckle.
I smiled and didn’t deny it, but I spat fiercely behind my back.
Behind the scenes, I delivered multiple versions of the ad designs.
But Lucas always found minor flaws and sent them back for revisions.
I knew he was doing it on purpose, and I struggled to stay calm.
Another message came on the phone, from the boss.
[Harper, meet Mr. Wilson at 19 Hockney Street today. He has some new ideas for the campaign.] With a sigh, I grabbed my bag and headed to the designated location.
There was a maze of narrow, bustling alleys, filled with the scent of street food and the hum of old, worn–in life.
I looked at Lucas coldly as he strode out of the crowd.
“Mr. Wilson, what’s this new idea you have?” I asked, trying to keep things professional.
He met my gaze. “First, I want to show you something.”
He led me through the old alleys.
The yellowed walls show traces of time, and the green ivy was blown by the wind.
From time to time, he would introduce me to the bakery that had the best pastries, and that lady over there made amazing pizzas.
His genuine enthusiasm and the lively surroundings began to soften the tension between us. Finally, we sat down at a small cafe.
The owner greeted us warmly.
Lucas pulled the chair for me like a gentleman. As we settled in, Lucas began to share his story. “I lived here with my mother until I was ten. Isabella and her mother were our neighbors.”
39
I struggled to reconcile his sophisticated demeanor with the simplicity of these surroundings. “My stepfather was a violent drunk,” Lucas continued quietly. “My mother endured a lot. Isabella’s mother often took care of us.
I was taken aback, unprepared for this glimpse into his past.
“When I was taken back by my biological father, I wanted to repay their kindness, but by then, Isabella’s mother was terminally ill. Before she passed, she asked me to look after Isabella. Since then, my family has supported her education and stayed in touch.
“My father wanted to make her my adopted sister, but Isabella declined. Later, she went abroad and
developed severe depression, with bouts of self–harm. She has no other family, so I frequently traveled to care for her.
チラ
“That’s why she seemed so unstable that day,” I murmured.
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