Chapter 163: Chapter 161: He Has Always Been a Man Who Moves My Heart (1)
Ethan Ellsworth couldn’t take it anymore. "Hey, Lamb Intestines, if you’re going to order, then hurry up. We have to order after you’re done. We can’t just order what you like, so get on with it. Or how about I order for you? A plate of lamb intestines, a plate of lamb tripe, a plate of mutton, and a plate of lamb head meat. They’re all your close relatives."
Herman Hawthorne burst out laughing, and Charlotte Young’s face turned livid. Her good mood was instantly ruined.
Even Quentin Grant couldn’t help but chuckle, but he still said, "Alright, hurry up. Ethan can be a bit impatient."
After she finished ordering, Ethan Ellsworth passed the menu to Nora Ainsworth. "You order."
Nora Ainsworth calmly took the menu and ordered carefully, "Kung Pao Chicken, Sweet and Sour Fish, Big Plate Chicken, Seaweed and Egg Drop Soup, Fish-Fragrant Eggplant, and Mapo Tofu. That’s all."
After she finished ordering, a winter chill suddenly filled the air.
Because these home-style dishes were all Quentin Grant’s favorites.
Nora Ainsworth looked up and smiled. "What’s wrong? I’ve just had a craving for these lately."
Ethan Ellsworth watched her thoughtfully, then chuckled. "Nora, I forgot to tell you, there’s a bed scene in our new drama. Will you feel awkward about that?"
’What a sudden change of topic—’
Nora Ainsworth’s expression didn’t change. "Why would I? I’m just damaged goods anyway. It’s nice enough that you don’t mind."
Ethan Ellsworth coughed lightly into his hand. Seeing Quentin Grant’s face darken, he grinned smugly. "Why would I mind? So many socialites and debutantes act all prim and proper on the surface, but are actually wild underneath. Compared to them, you’re so much better."
Chloe Marshall chimed in, "That’s right, Nora. Honestly, I think Young Master Hawthorne is a great guy. Why don’t you just get with him? We’d all approve."
Ethan Ellsworth nodded.
Quentin Grant was thoroughly infuriated. He had originally brought Charlotte Young along to show off, but not only had he failed, he’d also made himself extremely uncomfortable.
"Ethan, after we eat, you and I are going to have a good talk."
Ethan Ellsworth’s face fell. He knew that when Quentin Grant said "talk," he really meant "spar."
"Why isn’t the food here yet? I’m gonna scroll through Weibo." Ethan Ellsworth pulled out his phone.
An unusual tension filled the air.
Nora Ainsworth and Chloe Marshall were whispering to each other.
Ten minutes later, the food began to arrive.
Nora Ainsworth didn’t have much of an appetite to begin with and only moved her chopsticks a few times. Meanwhile, Charlotte Young was picking up food and feeding it to Quentin Grant. ’She told herself she didn’t care, that it didn’t matter,’ but a suffocating pain tightened in her chest.
On the surface, she still wore a faint smile, as if she had truly let go.
But for most of the meal, she either spoke with Chloe Marshall or sat in silence.
The next several dozen minutes were torture for her.
Finally.
Quentin Grant put down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth. "We’re leaving now."
He rose and walked ahead, and Charlotte Young quickly stood up to link her arm with his.
Ethan Ellsworth said in a low voice, "Let’s go, too."
After settling the bill, they stepped out of the restaurant. A wind had picked up outside.
It was a bit cold.
Ethan Ellsworth pulled his car over and said to Nora Ainsworth and Chloe Marshall, "I’ll drive you home. Get in."
But Nora Ainsworth refused. "No, thank you. We just ate, so we’d like to walk. It’ll only take half an hour to get home."
Chloe Marshall nodded. "Boss Ellsworth, you can head back first. Nora and I will take a walk to let our food digest."
Ethan Ellsworth had no choice but to agree. "Alright then, I’ll head back. You two be careful on your way."
The two of them nodded and started walking home together.
"Nora, why?"
She let out a long breath. "I know what you want to ask, but I can’t say it. Because if I do, I’m afraid I won’t be able to control my emotions and I’ll do something impulsive that I’ll regret."
Chloe Marshall broke into a smile. "Nora, don’t think about these unhappy things. Let’s run! We’ll get home much faster that way."
Nora Ainsworth turned her head. "Okay, go!"
The two figures began to race, one after the other. They ran fast, but not as fast as the car behind them.
Quentin Grant’s car sped past them. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Under the lights, her dark hair flew about, obscuring her face. The strands danced across her features, and he couldn’t see her expression clearly.
The car went faster and faster. The once-clear image of her in his eyes grew smaller and smaller, gradually blurring into a single point.
She seemed to have stopped running. Though he couldn’t see clearly, Quentin Grant could feel it—Nora Ainsworth’s gaze was fixed on his car, not leaving it for a long, long time.
Chloe Marshall noticed she had stopped. When she went closer to look, she saw Nora staring desolately at the spot where the car had vanished. Alarmed, she called out, "Nora?"
Nora Ainsworth snapped back to reality. "Yes, Chloe. Let’s go home together."
Chloe Marshall didn’t ask any more questions. "Okay, let’s go home."
Quentin Grant stopped the car in front of Charlotte Young’s home as usual. This time, however, he didn’t get out as smoothly. Instead, he just looked at her.
"Get out."
"Quentin, what’s wrong—" Her smiling, delicate face froze.
He stared at her and said bluntly, "Did you really think I’d suddenly fall in love with you? Don’t make me say it a third time. Get out!"
An indescribable tightness seized Charlotte Young’s chest. She couldn’t deny it; his words had struck home, a single arrow straight to the heart.
"Fine." Not daring to say more, Charlotte Young swallowed the words she wanted to say and got out of the car resentfully.
Quentin Grant drove back. Remembering what Ethan Ellsworth and Herman Hawthorne had said during dinner, he got out and slammed the car door shut.
His eyes landed on the Men in Black standing guard, and he strode toward them.
The entire group instantly clenched their buttocks, standing ramrod straight and staring ahead, presenting their most disciplined formation.
"Captain."
The captain trotted out. "Yes, Young Master."
"Starting tomorrow, no one is allowed into this villa except for me, Young Master Hawthorne, and Ethan Ellsworth. That includes my mother."
"Understood!"
"Mm." Quentin Grant turned and walked toward the living room.
"Young Master?" The captain couldn’t help but call out again.
He answered as he walked, "What is it?"
"You won’t be... running off again tonight, will you?"
Quentin Grant’s voice was so faint it was almost inaudible. "No, I won’t be running off."
His tall figure gradually faded into the shadows.
He walked into the study and immediately turned on his computer. Quentin Grant sat in his chair, drumming his fingers on the desktop, producing a series of crisp, dull taps.
Ethan Ellsworth and Herman Hawthorne were both online. On the screen, their two faces wore tirelessly smug expressions.
Quentin Grant narrowed his eyes. "You two have anything you’d like to confess?"
Ethan Ellsworth spread his hands. "Confess? Me? Absolutely nothing!"
Herman Hawthorne nodded. "My answer is the same as Young Master Ellsworth’s. Absolutely nothing."
"You two... fine. Ethan, tell me about this new drama of yours. Is there a bed scene? Will... inappropriate parts be shown?" he finally asked.
Ethan Ellsworth gave him a punchable grin. "Thank you for your concern, Young Master Grant. Don’t worry, I’m a guy. If there’s any nudity, it’ll just be my upper body. I’m in great shape, so you have nothing to worry about."
