Become the Wife of A CEO

“Well… I’ve been trying to get in touch with Mr. Jakovich since the moment I found the handkerchief. However, I couldn’t contact him because he is now attending a design seminar abroad and has turned off his phone.”

“Try your best!” Horace scowled in a low voice angrily, “Bring him to me as soon as you can get in touch with him.”

Isaac was so scared that he became deadly pale, “Yes, Mr. Kirkland.”

Now Horace had no mood for the model on the computer screen. He moved towards the door in his wheelchair rapidly.

Isaac followed. Then, Horace asked coldly, “Is Clara home now?”

“Martha called just now and told me that Mrs. Kirkland had already gone back home.”

Hearing that, Horace finally softened his poker face a little. When he suddenly realized that he still held that handkerchief in hand, he immediately cast it to Isaac with disgust and said, “Throw it away. Also, buy and close the company that produces this handkerchief. I don’t want to see it anywhere anymore.”

Taking Alastair Jakovich into account, Isaac hesitated, “But how about Mr. Jakovich?”

“Do as I said!”

Clara had fallen asleep when Horace was home.

Sleeping with Horace in a small bed last night gave her a light sleep, which made her tired that day, so she went straight to bed after having dinner.

When Horace entered the room, he found Clara curling up in bed, wearing the silk sling pajamas bought by Martha. She tightly held the quilt in her arms, which exposed her delicate shoulders and back to the air.

Horace frowned.

Clara had gotten used to such a sleep posture. Instead of tucking herself in, she would rather hold the quilt in her arms. Therefore, he would wake up at midnight in order to tuck her in in fear that she would catch a cold.

Why did Martha buy her sling pajamas? Such pajamas could not keep her warm.Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

After locking the door, Horace stood up from the wheelchair and walked towards the bed, hoping to tuck her in. When he just stood still beside the bed, Clara turned around and left the quilt behind, which totally exposed her body to the air.

All of a sudden, Horace held his breath and stopped his movement.

He then understood why Martha would prepare such pajamas for Clara.

The pajamas were black, embroidered with delicate, beautiful patterns. Clara became more attractive when the cloth covered her fair skin.

The pajamas were not loose but slim, so that it could delineate Clara’s sexy figure. When she wore it and slept in such a casual posture, it was extremely tempting.

Desire was burning in Horace’s eyes.

At that moment, Clara woke up and slightly rubbed her sleepy eyes.

“Horace?” realizing that there stood a man beside the bed, she was startled and then became sober, “Welcome home.”

When she went home that day, she was so tired that she fell asleep very soon. Now, seeing Horace standing just in front of her, what Stephanie had told her that day occurred to her and she became soberer.

Before making a response, Horace rapidly covered Clara with the quilt, which dissolved his fiery desire. He said, “I think you should put on more clothes in case you catch a cold.”

It took Clara several seconds before she lowered her head to have a look at her new pajamas and realized what he meant. She blushed, “I have only been away from home for one day and it was unexpected that Martha would throw away my old pajamas and buy me this.”

Now Clara did regret that she went home yesterday. Her imprudent decision not only brought her no benefits, but also put her at the “kind” mercy of Martha.

Indeed, those who had worked for rich families were better players than her.

“Well, how about your wound?” Horace suddenly recalled Clara’s wound and he took her wrist out of the quilt. Seeing the used bandage and cotton inside it, he knitted his brow, “You haven’t redressed it, right? Clara, can’t you take better care of yourself?”

Clara looked a little guilty and lowered her head, “I will redress it right now.”

She tried to get up from bed, but stopped by Horace. He said, “I’ll do it for you. It is inconvenient for you to do it with your left hand.”

He got the cotton swab and medicine and began to redress Clara’s wound.

Clara could not remember how many times Horace had helped her change the wound dressing since the accident. Whenever he did that, his hot breath would fall on her arms, which always made her blush.

She could not help turning around and staring at Horace’s handsome face. It dazzled her a little.

From this special angle, his eyelashes looked long and dense, and his eyes sparklingly dark. Even a girl’s eyelashes and eyes could not be more beautiful than his.

Attracted by Horace’s eyes, she ventured in a soft tone, “Horace, can I ask you a question?”

Horace paid all his attention to her wound. Without looking up, he gave a grunt of acquiescence.

“The owner of that necklace…Is she your ex-girlfriend?” Clara asked.

The movement of Horace’s hand paused for a few seconds and then he rapidly resumed his work. Again, without looking up, he gave a grunt of approval.

It was unexpected that Horace would be willing to talk about this topic. She was relieved a little and posed another question, “You loved her very much, right?”

Hearing the question, Horace finally looked up.

The darkness in his eyes was deep, preventing Clara from guessing what he was thinking about. He asked calmly, “Clara, why do you want to know about this?”

Clara began to regret her questions and responded in a low voice, “Well, I can sense your sadness whenever you have a look at it.”

The darkness in Horace’s eyes flickered. He lowered his head again and went on redressing Clara’s wound.

When Clara thought that Horace did not want to continue this topic, he made his response unexpectedly.

“I am sorry to her.”

It took Clara several seconds to understand his words. He was sorry to Laura?

Her heart sank.

Did it mean that he had really left Laura to death and fled away alone ten years ago? Otherwise, why would he say that he was sorry to her?

No.

It was impossible.

She slightly shook her head to get rid of her imagination about this topic. She did not dare to ask more questions about it, so their conversation about this topic came to an end.

…

While in the old house of the Kirkland family.

Russell Kirkland was old, so he went to bed early.

However, in the study, there stood a bowing figure, with his face lowering into the darkness, in front of Sean Kirkland.

“Are you sure?” Sean, with an extremely gloomy face, asked, “Did that cripple really have sex with his new married wife?”

“It is real,” the man standing in front of the table answered seriously, “Mr. Russell Kirkland has been concerned about this matter. Besides, what I have observed can prove it.”

“Damn it!” Sean threw a hard punch at the table with fury in his eyes, “If it is real, then this Clara Selman would probably have a baby with that loser?”