The autumn night wind is always cool and unrestrained, hitting the face and stirring up Titus Zane’s brown waves of hair.
Raising her wrist, she brushed the strands of hair off her face and hugged her handbag tightly.
When she arrived, it was Mr. Tang’s driver who drove her, and she didn’t feel cold, but now, wearing a wrap-around dress, standing on the scarcely trafficked street, she suddenly felt a bit cold.
Standing in front of the clubhouse’s doors, Nathan Moore had his hands stuck in his trouser pockets. The flashing neon lights in front of the door blurred his figure.
The scene in front of him overlapped with the images in his mind, both were the back views of a single woman, beautiful yet very lonely.
Under the waning night light, a woman leaned on the railing, a breeze lifted her long hair, wildly flying in the air. The woman had a tall figure, wearing a lady-like long dress... Although the scene was very aesthetic, the solitude and sadness were thick in that back view.
Yes, this was the oil painting Nathan Moore saw in Titus Zane’s room.
The easel set up on the floor, apparently completed.
Yet, how many times when he entered her room, he saw her sitting in front of the easel, one hand holding a wine glass, the other wielding a paintbrush, sketching on it...
At those times, Nathan Moore couldn’t help but wonder, how could a simple back view never be completed?
Later, after Titus Zane "left", he walked into the room on the fourth floor, lifted the cloth covering it, and stood in front of the easel for a very long time, finally understanding the mood of that painting.
That back view was Titus Zane’s self-portrait, and with each stroke added, the deep melancholy increased a bit more.
In the past, he had caused her too much pain, thus, her sadness seemed endless.
"Director, should we give Miss Zane a lift?"
Ewan Zimmerman tentatively asked.
Nathan Moore came back to his senses and glanced again at that back view, "No need."
"I’ll call the driver to bring the car over." Ewan Zimmerman took out his phone to dial the driver’s number.
Five minutes later, a rather flippant libertine man walked out of the clubhouse, the car keys twirling on his index finger, stood at the entrance looking around. Spotting the figure beside the street, his thin lips curled up wickedly, and he strode toward the parking spot.
"Hey! Gorgeous, need a lift?" A bright red Maserati stopped in front of Titus Zane, and from the lowered window peered a face as flamboyant as the Maserati’s color!
Titus Zane paused for a moment, then flirtatiously bent her seductive eyes, slightly tilted her head, and blinked, "Sure, handsome, I’m going to the vZ hotel, not sure if it’s on your way?"
"On the way, I’m staying there too!"
The handsome man gave a wicked smile, then opened the passenger door.
Titus Zane walked over in her high heels, just as she lifted her foot, her arm tightened, and she was suddenly pulled forward.
The curse she was about to let loose stopped upon seeing the man’s cool and handsome face.
Titus Zane curved her lips, her plump lips shining seductively under the night lights.
"Director Moore, you’re going this way too?"
Apart from this, Titus Zane couldn’t think of any other reason.
"Hey, you old man, what’s the matter?" The flirtatious man who nearly had his prey intercepted was in a foul mood, stormed out from the driver’s side, rolling up his sleeves, his attitude screaming Ancestor of the Second Generation.
"Don’t you know first come, first served?"
"No," Nathan Moore caught Titus Zane’s arm, subtly stepping forward to shield her behind him.
Titus Zane, however, sarcastically lifted her lip corners.
This is... playing the hero to save the beauty? Intending to fight for her?
Quite rare, it seems, besides Olivia Zane, likely no one else could affect Nathan Moore’s emotions.