Chapter 412 - 387: Are You Afraid of Me? 2

After lunch, Dylan Heston drove Nancy Hughes back to the office.

Just as she was about to get out of the car, Dylan grabbed her wrist. She turned back, about to ask what he was doing, but before a sound could escape her throat, his lips were on hers.

His warm, moist lips pressed close, slowly caressing hers. Nancy felt as if her heart was about to beat out of her chest.

Dylan released her and smoothed her hair back from her ear. "Alright, go on up."

"Oh, okay!"

As usual, Nancy’s reaction was a beat slow. She muttered an agreement and got out of the car.

She was still in a daze by the time she got to the office elevator.

’When Dylan kissed me just now... wasn’t Kyle Kerr sitting up front?’

She instinctively covered her mouth. ’Oh god, does that mean Kyle saw everything?’

’Oh my god!’

She groaned inwardly and headed back to her desk.

Having disappeared for half the day without a good reason, Nancy was prepared for a scolding.

Called into her team lead’s office, Nancy watched as her supervisor slammed a stack of files down on the desk.

"I’m sorry, I... something came up unexpectedly."

"’Something came up,’ so you can just disappear for half a day without a word? Do you have any idea we had a meeting today? The entire conference room was waiting for you!"

Nancy bowed repeatedly in apology. "I’m so sorry, ma’am!"

Her team lead was ferocious and showed no mercy when scolding someone. The faint of heart would quit on the spot after a tongue-lashing, while the more resilient, like Nancy, would just return to their desks, dejected.

She rubbed her temples. Faced with a mountain of data, it looked like she was in for a long night of overtime.

Once she dove into her work, she forgot about everything else.

Her colleagues gradually left for the day, but Nancy remained at her desk, engrossed in her work: entering data, then cross-referencing it.

Her eyes felt like they were going to fall out, and she was still only a little more than halfway done.

Her memory had been slipping lately, and she didn’t remember her other job until Ms. Chandler from the art studio called.

"I’m so sorry, Ms. Chandler. I’m swamped with work at the office today. How about I come in on Saturday to help out?" Nancy said as she made herself a cup of coffee to perk up.

"Alright then. Next time something like this happens, remember to call me in advance."

"I will, Ms. Chandler. I’m truly sorry about this."

When you’re at someone’s mercy, you have no choice but to bow your head.

She took a sip of coffee and noticed an unread message on her phone.

She opened it and saw it was a text from Dylan Heston, asking what she was doing.

The text had been sent an hour ago.

Nancy replied that she was working overtime. He texted back almost immediately, "Still at the office?"

"Yeah."

"I happen to be nearby. Come down in ten minutes."

"Huh?"

Nancy replied with a confused "Huh?", after which he went silent.

Ten minutes later, Dylan called and told her to come down.

Nancy hurried downstairs. Dylan was waiting in his car. She ran a hand through her hair. "What are you doing here?"

"Get in."

"But I’m not done with my work!" she said, pointing up at the office building. Dylan opened the passenger door and pulled her inside by the hand.

’Where are we going?’

It was prime dinner time, and Dylan took Nancy to an authentic Portmire restaurant.

The restaurant served classic Portmire cuisine, with traditional flavors you couldn’t find anywhere else.

The decor was nothing special, but the restaurant was clearly thriving—the main dining hall was packed.

Dylan seemed to know the owner. He exchanged a few words, and they were led to a private room.

The room was spotless, with a table by the window. From her seat, she had a view of the scenery outside.

Nancy’s gaze drifted to the window. In the distance, a large bridge was lit up, its lights merging with the deepening night.

"It’s so beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah."

Nancy had rarely gone out to enjoy herself since coming to Portmire.

Most of her time was spent working. She needed money for living expenses and to pay for her tuition.

She had no idea what fun things there were to do in Portmire, nor what the city’s famous local specialties were.

Halfway through the meal, she accidentally spilled juice on her clothes while reaching for her glass.

"I’m just going to the restroom," she said, quickly getting up and heading out.

The yellow juice left a conspicuous stain on her off-white blouse.

She took off the blouse and tried rinsing it, but the stain wouldn’t budge. Thankfully, her clothes underneath were fine.

Coming out of the restroom, she headed back toward the private room.

"Nancy, it really is you!"

She had only taken two steps when a voice from behind called her name.

Nancy knew that voice all too well.

She turned around stiffly and saw Zane Lennox standing a short distance away.

"What a coincidence!" she said, turning to greet him.

Zane looked her up and down. "It really has been a while. Who are you having dinner with?"

Nancy opened her mouth, but found she couldn’t bring herself to say Dylan Heston’s name to Zane. She forced an unnatural smile. "With a friend."

"Is that so?"

Nancy nodded awkwardly. "I should get going!"

For the first time ever, she felt a desperate urge to get away from Zane Lennox.

"Wait, I have a question for you," Zane said, closing the distance between them in a few quick strides.

In the blink of an eye, he was standing right in front of her.

She let out a confused sound. ’What could he possibly want to ask me?’

She tilted her head up to look at him, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. "What did you want to ask?"

Things were different now. Zane had become a true businessman, his every gesture radiating a professional aura. Reading people was second nature to him.

Zane studied her expression. "You seem a little nervous."

"No!" she refuted weakly, her voice barely a whisper.

She looked up. "So, what did you want to ask me?"

’It has to be about Georgia Thorne again. The only time Zane ever thinks of me is when it’s about her.’

Zane looked down at Nancy. He’d recently heard a rumor about a woman Dylan Heston had been seen with.

The famously private man had been spotted in public with a woman he openly called his girlfriend.

’A girlfriend named Nancy Hughes. Could it be the same Nancy Hughes I know?’

’Nancy isn’t what you’d call stunning. She’s more the pretty, fresh-faced type.’

’It must be someone with the same name. It can’t be her.’

Zane silently dismissed the rumor. After a moment’s silence, he asked, "Are you still working at Sheridan Group?"

"Yeah," she replied glumly.

"Hmm."

After waiting a moment and hearing no mention of Georgia Thorne, she looked up at him, puzzled.

"What is it?"

"N-Nothing!" she stammered, shaking her head and taking a step back to put some distance between them.

’Things feel a little awkward with Zane now, too.’

She used to always look for excuses to talk to him, to be near him. Now, there was nothing to say.

The atmosphere grew awkward. Just as Nancy was racking her brain for an excuse to leave, Dylan Heston emerged from the private room.

She turned and saw Dylan, who was looking right at them.

As Dylan walked toward them, Nancy subconsciously took another large step back, putting even more distance between herself and Zane.

"I was wondering why you weren’t back. Run into a friend?" Dylan’s voice was magnetic as he came over and draped an arm around Nancy’s shoulders.

Nancy nodded. Thinking they might not know each other, she quickly made introductions. "Zane, this is Dylan Heston." Then she turned to Dylan. "And this is Zane Lennox."

As two men who moved in business circles, it was impossible for them not to know each other.

Dylan extended his hand formally. "A pleasure, Mr. Lennox."

Zane’s expression suddenly turned serious. His eyes darted between Nancy and Dylan, finally settling on Dylan’s hand resting on Nancy’s waist. "The honor is all mine, Mr. Heston."

’So it really was her!’

Nancy and Dylan. He never would have imagined that two people who seemed to have absolutely nothing in common could end up together.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Dylan tightened his arm around Nancy’s shoulders. "Well, Mr. Lennox, we won’t keep you. Goodbye."

’Like they’re the ones being disturbed,’ Zane thought.

Zane forced a polite smile. "Mr. Heston. I hope we’ll have the chance to meet again."

Dylan practically dragged Nancy away, but she managed to call out a "Goodbye" to Zane before she left.

Back in the private room, a heavy silence fell. Nancy glanced up at the man across from her several times before lowering her gaze again.

She chewed on her chopsticks. Dylan’s expression seemed to have darkened again.

’Wasn’t he perfectly fine just a moment ago?’

’This man is impossible to read.’

Dylan’s dark mood persisted all the way back to her office.

Nancy racked her brain. She hadn’t done anything wrong. ’Maybe he’s upset about something from work,’ she reasoned.

She wasn’t good at comforting people, so she just fidgeted with her hair and said, "Well, I’m going to head back up then!"

Back at her desk, she slumped down, her eyes glazing over as she stared at the mountain of data.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged back into the dizzying sea of numbers, not finishing until ten o’clock.

After getting home, she fed her cat, took a shower, and finally collapsed into bed. It was already midnight.

Her body was exhausted, but her mind was wide awake, a single nerve pulled taut.

She rolled over and picked up the phone from her bedside. It was quiet. No messages from anyone.

She had never really dated anyone before, so she had no idea what a relationship was supposed to be like.

’Whatever. I’ll just stop thinking about it. I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another day of hustling.’

Remembering what had happened, she deliberately set three alarms to make sure she wouldn’t oversleep again.

However, she woke up when the first alarm went off.

It was only seven, so she had plenty of time—she could even leave for the office half an hour earlier than usual.

She rested her head on her desk, scrolling through her phone as her colleagues slowly trickled in.

Days went by, but Nancy didn’t receive a single text or call from Dylan Heston.