Looking at the phone that was abruptly hung up, Titus Zane was a bit slow to react.
That voice just now... was it Nicholas Croft’s?
Together with Beatrice Hargrave so early in the morning, could it be that they’ve gotten back together?
With a belly full of suspicion, he put away his phone and didn’t call Nathan Moore again.
In City T, at Nicholas Croft’s villa, a battle raged with fiery intensity.
"Hmm... Uncle Nicholas... be gentler..." Beatrice Hargrave bit her lip; his magnificent size and ferocity were hard to bear, but the warrior standing behind her nibbled at her ear and laughed devilishly, "Darling, if I’m not forceful, how can I make you tremble..."
Beatrice Hargrave was speechless. This bad uncle, who appeared so refined and gentle in public, spewed such words that embarrassed her once he shed his clothes.
Hmph, one day when she was in the mood, she would record it all and play it for his brothers to hear, to see if he still had the face to meet people!
Amidst her feelings of grievance, the phone hidden under the pillow rang. Just having answered Titus Zane’s call and then abruptly hung up by Nicholas Croft in that manner, Beatrice Hargrave thought it was her again and hurriedly called for a break, "Uncle Nicholas, stop for a moment, I need to take a call..."
"Don’t you dare!" The two domineering words landed, and Nicholas Croft’s large hand gripped Beatrice Hargrave’s waist tightly, as if terrified she might escape.
From beneath the pillow, the phone continued to ring. Beatrice Hargrave stared at that pillow, extending her arm several times without reaching it, and the man behind her, perhaps intentionally, became even more ferocious.
The ringing finally ceased, and the room once again filled with the symphony of gasps and impacts intertwining. However, this movement was short-lived before that ringtone sounded again.
This time, it was not the soothing music but a monotonous ringtone; it was Nicholas Croft’s, his phone resting on the cabinet by the bed.
Feeling the man behind her waver, Beatrice Hargrave spoke out in protest, "You’re not allowed to answer it either!"
No sooner had her words fallen than the man reached out his long arm, and the phone was already in his palm.
Looking at the incoming call on the screen, Nicholas Croft furrowed his brows and stared at the number. Hesitating for a moment, he still answered.
The movements below continued, and he switched on the speakerphone, setting the phone on the bed.
"Nicholas, are you up?"
The voice of Hannah Hargrave rang out, distinctly odd within the symphony of sounds.
Beatrice Hargrave tensed up, daring not to make a sound.
The words were distinctly detached, anyone could tell the coldness of the man, but Hannah Hargrave, as if not noticing, continued enthusiastically.
"Um... not much," Hannah Hargrave prolonged the note, sounding as if she was sweet-talking her boyfriend, "Beatrice didn’t come home last night, dad and I are worried, called her and she didn’t answer, do you know where she went?"
Nicholas Croft didn’t respond, but below there was a heavy thrust, sudden, without any guard, a cry of surprise spilled from Beatrice Hargrave’s throat. She had just covered her lips with her hand when the onslaught came like a tidal wave, leaving her no chance to catch her breath.
Through the speakerphone, Hannah Hargrave’s voice sounded anxious and wounded, "Nicholas? Are you listening to the call?"