Titus Zane first comforted Wesley Foley with a few words, then got up to fetch their coats.
When he helped Wesley put on his coat, in Nathan Moore’s eyes, it was a gesture both gentle and considerate, and also those slightly knitted beautiful brows.
Was he feeling sympathy for this pretty boy? Or was he angry his secretary got him drunk?
Ignoring Nathan’s dark facial features and the cold light in his eyes, he put one of Wesley’s arms around his neck and over his shoulder, supporting him as they walked towards the door of the private room.
Nathan’s gaze followed the woman whose expression was clearly not calm until Titus’s figure disappeared from sight.
Only then did he turn back, his features cold and hard, glancing at the secretary who was still clinging to him.
Tilly Zimmerman was quite drunk, already leaning against his chest, semi-conscious. His icy gaze held little emotion as he carded her along to grab their coats from the rack and turned to head for the door.
The elevator down was located at the far end of the corridor, and as they passed by the washroom, the open door revealed the considerate and caring woman helping Wesley wash his face.
One hand wrapped around Wesley’s waist, the other splashing cold water gently on his forehead.
Instinctively stopping in his tracks, when he opened his mouth to speak, a cold scoff was the first to escape his proud nostrils.
"Assistant Zane is really considerate and careful," he said with icy sarcasm, not mincing words as the corners of his lips curled up sharply like a blade.
"Director Moore must be really popular, even the nanny tasks are taken care of by Assistant Zane, which is truly admirable to Director Moore."
A cold glance swept over, and Titus’s complexion wasn’t any better than Nathan’s.
With a fleeting look at the secretary draped all over Nathan, those full lips also curved with an equally icy coldness.
"Director Moore, you should be more concerned about the one in your arms. Only a big-breasted but brainless creature would self-inflict such a loss in the act of harming the enemy."
The naked taunt was unreserved in its harsh language, and his gaze shifted back to Wesley, Titus’s tone became gentle once more.
"Wesley, feeling any better?"
"Hmm... still uncomfortable..." Wesley supported himself on the washbasin with one hand, brows tightly knitted, revealing a prominent "chuan" character.
"Why not try to throw up a bit more, it’ll feel better after vomiting."
"Hmm..." Titus again supported Wesley towards the cubicle with a male symbol, the sound of vomiting mixed with the woman’s soft comforting words, so grating as they entered the ears.
Nathan’s obsidian eyes tightened again with some fleeting emotion, as Tilly hanging on him muttered to herself, "Director Moore... I want to sleep..."
Lowering his gaze, he couldn’t ignore the pressing mounds in front of him even if he wanted to, his gaze intensified, and Nathan spoke with an unprecedented tenderness.
"Good girl! Let’s go back to sleep now, just hang in there, you did so well today, I will definitely give you a good reward..."
In the cubicle, the hand Titus had on Wesley’s waist involuntarily tightened.
His delicate face was colder than ever, his chest heaving under the floral fabric with each breath.
A voice clenched through gritted teeth, piercing through the open door of the cubicle, entering Nathan’s ears.
With a smirk and a cold laugh, Nathan responded, "Pot calling the kettle black."
After speaking, he wrapped Tilly up and left with big strides.
By the time Titus supported Wesley out, there was no longer a trace of that man in the corridor.
The sneering curve of his lips verged on self-mockery, "Men are creatures that think with their lower halves!"