Chapter 896: Chapter 896: A Contest of Superiority_1
The intimacy between the two pricked George River’s eyes, Hannah’s words felt like a bucket of ice water being poured over his head, chilling him to the bone.
"George, we broke up a long time ago."
The girl leaned into the man’s embrace, her head tilted in a way that made her look especially soft and obedient, yet the words she uttered were devoid of any emotion, merely stating a fact.
George clenched his fists, his eyes bloodshot, staring fixedly at Hannah, he enunciated each word, "Initially, it was just a moment of impulse on my part, which doesn’t count. Moreover, you never really agreed to it, so that doesn’t count as a breakup."
George River, the once cold and ruthless domineering boss, for the first time revealed his unreasonable persistence, as if he had reverted to the childishness and naivety of his teenage years.
At least in front of Arnold Simmons, he always seemed a few notches below.
Hannah sighed, as if she was helpless against his foolish antics.
Arnold lowered his head and pinched the girl’s cheek, looking up at George with his usual indifference in his eyes, "George, how old are you to still say such things?"
Arnold’s presence was too strong, it seemed as if no matter how many George Rivers stood before him, they would always seem less significant.
Or perhaps it was because of the generational difference, the moment someone called him "Second Master," whether it was George or Jimmy Simmons, they were ultimately the younger generation.
George’s eyes nearly reddened as he suddenly felt an oppressive sadness weighing down on his chest, so suffocating he could hardly breathe.
Alcohol bolstered courage, and today it seemed he had set his heart on competing with Arnold. Despite his hoarse voice, his words were firm, "Arnold, don’t be smug. No matter what, you can’t change the fact that Hannah once liked me."
Arnold’s expression didn’t change, but his grip on Hannah’s hand tightened just a bit, his smile carrying a trace of chill as he said lightly, "You said it yourself; it was once."
George was speechless, drunkenness clouding his mind into disarray.
Indeed, had it been any other clear-headed moment, he would never have behaved this way.
But even drunk, he could still feel that sense of powerlessness when sober around Arnold, as if no matter what he said or did, he could never shake him.
There was a moment when George truly wanted to cry, especially when he met Hannah’s gaze.
After a brief silence, Hannah suddenly spoke again, her voice clear, "George, did you really like me that much?"
Upon hearing this, George nodded eagerly, his whole person dizzily floating on cloud nine.
Arnold, however, stared resolutely at the person in his arms, his hand never loosening, his eyes swirling with dark intentions, as if ready to burst free from his restraint at any moment.
He was uneasy.
Hannah scratched the palm of his hand, blinked her eyes as a gesture of comfort, and then under George’s love-filled gaze, she feigned distress but heartlessly said, "But I don’t like you."
Her naive words felt like knives grinding at George’s ears, painfully sharp, his head buzzing.
She said... she didn’t like him?
That sentence, no matter how many times it was repeated, was always a blow to him.
George felt like he was having a nightmare.
And just when it seemed Hannah’s blow wasn’t harsh enough on George, she tiptoed to kiss Arnold on the lips. Her movements were awkward, her gaze innocent, yet laced with a different kind of temptation.
With a tone that was sweet and pleading, almost like seeking approval, she cooed, "Arnold, it’s only you that I like."
Arnold’s gaze was intense, fixated on the cherry lips presented before him, so red and tempting. He didn’t care about the looks from others as he wrapped his arms around the girl’s waist and kissed her.
After a moment, when they parted, only then did Arnold’s low and slightly hoarse voice sound, "Hmm."
