"Beatrice, where do you think Sister Li has gone?" Nicholas Croft reined in his thoughts, asked softly, his downcast gaze resting on Beatrice Hargrave’s face, where even the shadow cast by his fine lashes was gentle.
Beatrice pursed her lips, her index fingers unconsciously tapping each other, "How would I know? I’m not a fortune-teller."
He continued in a gentle voice, "Then can you make a call and ask?"
If he remembers correctly, this little imp gets along quite well with that woman.
"Doesn’t Uncle Moore have Sister Li’s number? He should ask her himself," Beatrice said dismissively, after all, it wasn’t Sister Li who was anxious, and Beatrice couldn’t care less.
The man who had been smoking with his head down finally deemed it worth his while to look up, fixing his eyes on Beatrice. Just a few days had passed, but his handsome face seemed much more haggard.
When he spoke, his voice was slightly hoarse.
"I called her already, she didn’t give me her address."
Beatrice drew out the words, her fingers continuing their playful motion, she pouted again, earnestly saying, "Then I definitely can’t make the call. If Sister Li wanted to tell you, she would have. I won’t be that spy."
Two grown men, utterly powerless in front of this little girl.
They exchanged a look, and Nicholas Croft turned back, raising his long arm to rest it on Beatrice’s shoulder. His lips moved as if to speak, but before a sound could come out, Beatrice had already turned her head towards him, looking at him with all seriousness.
"Uncle Croft, as my sister’s boyfriend, you should be more careful. Otherwise, sister will be angry when she sees this."
He nearly ground his teeth to bits.
Little vixen, so prim and proper now, but who was it that begged for kisses last night while urging, more forcefully?
Now playing the innocent!
But what to do, he liked her pretending, her affected ways.
Because she reminded him so much of his Sophie, especially in bed. That passion, compared to Sophie Foster, was no less intense.
And she had qualities Sophie Foster lacked, like education, family background, and during the day, in front of the media, that simple and pure appearance, even though he knew she was pretending, at least she was willing to. She didn’t want to show the ugliest parts of herself to the world.
Unlike his Sophie, who didn’t know how to pretend, and in the end...
Subconsciously, Nicholas Croft used Beatrice as a substitute for Sophie, transferring all his love, and his guilt towards Sophie Foster, to her.
Therefore, he was willing to bring her along to various social events, all for the purpose of laying the groundwork, so that, one day, her career could soar without having to struggle as Sophie Foster did.
Under Beatrice’s wriggling, Nicholas Croft let his arm fall, but he still coaxed her good-naturedly, "Beatrice, be good, call Sister Li and ask her where she is, or else," he said, glancing at the man opposite him, his lips curling with a teasing smile.
"Your Uncle Moore will be lovesick."
After giving Nathan Moore a glance, Beatrice turned her gaze back, "Is Uncle Moore really that faithful?"
"Yes, your Uncle Moore is very faithful!" Glancing at Nathan Moore again, the mockery at Nicholas Croft’s lips grew even more pronounced.
Nathan Moore, silent as always, kept his head down, taking one drag after another of his cigarette, and in the ashtray in front of him, a dozen butts had already accumulated.
Beatrice curled her lip in disdain, "Who are you trying to fool? I don’t believe that for a second!"
Amidst Nicholas Croft’s perplexed look, she continued, "If Uncle Moore was faithful, he wouldn’t have sent his disabled wife back to her parent’s house!"