Chapter 92: Chapter 91: Admit Your Mistake
The bar owner led the way, holding his breath as he whispered cautiously, "Mr. Lockwood, this is the private room."
Simon Lockwood still wore a black suit, his figure tall and imposing, his aura cool and ascetic, but his expression was simply glacial.
As he pushed open the door, Simon Lockwood saw the girl draped intimately over another person. Before he even had time to frown, he noticed two unfamiliar men sitting to the side.
The bar owner’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest. He hurriedly berated the two male models and told them to get out.
As they passed the doorway, the two male models instinctively glanced up and met the man’s murderous, ice-cold gaze. The color instantly drained from their faces.
Seeing things were going south, the bar owner muttered an apology and made a hasty exit himself.
The implication was obvious.
Simon Lockwood’s expression could no longer be described as merely grim; a storm was brewing on his face.
’Male models.’
’Joanna Kennedy... Just brilliant.’
Anna Yates hadn’t expected him to arrive so quickly. At first glance, she could hardly believe this was Simon Lockwood.
This powerful, imposing man, with the oppressive air of someone in command, was a far cry from the pale-faced boy who had once asked her, "Where’s Jo?"
It had only been six years, yet Anna Yates felt as though it had happened in another century.
But when she saw how his gaze had been glued to Joanna Kennedy’s face, unwavering, from the moment he entered, she was certain. This was Simon Lockwood. He hadn’t changed at all.
"I brought her here, and I hired those two guys. Jo only had one cocktail; she didn’t do anything," Anna Yates forced herself to explain, seeing his grim expression.
Simon Lockwood authoritatively scooped the drunken girl off of her and into his arms, lifting her by the waist. His tone was devoid of emotion, purely perfunctory. "Do you need a ride home, Miss Yates?"
As if she would dare. Anna Yates swallowed hard. "No, no, it’s fine. A friend is coming to get me soon."
"Mm."
Simon Lockwood turned and left without the slightest hesitation.
His question had been a mere formality, a matter of good breeding.
"Simon," Anna Yates suddenly called out.
The man stopped but didn’t turn around.
"...Jo... she’s not having an easy time right now. She’s different from how she used to be. What happened back then... I hope you won’t hold it against her," Anna Yates said, struggling with the words.
’But then, who has it easy? She was the one who chose to leave, and she’s the one who’s suffering now.’
’So, what was the point of it all?’
Simon Lockwood said nothing and strode away.
The man’s tall, elegant figure vanished from the doorway. Anna Yates retracted her gaze, sank slowly into her seat, picked up her glass, and took a long, slow sip.
Simon Lockwood’s grip was powerful, and the person trapped in his arms could barely breathe. Held so uncomfortably, Joanna Kennedy whimpered a few times and began to struggle faintly.
The man’s fingers suddenly dug sharply into the soft flesh of her waist. She cried out in pain and opened her hazy, drunken eyes. Seeing it was Simon Lockwood, she shot him a vicious glare.
But her cheeks and the corners of her eyes were flushed red, and even her neck was tinged with pink. Her eyes glistened with moisture, stripping the glare of any real threat. Instead, it only served to stir the dark impulses in a man’s heart.
Simon Lockwood said darkly, "Behave."
Joanna Kennedy: ?
’In front of Simon Lockwood, she didn’t know the meaning of the word "behave."’ She struggled even more fiercely.
Simon Lockwood’s voice turned cold. "Behave."
’He’s being harsh with me?’
’He’s being harsh with me *again*?!’
’Why did Simon Lockwood always have to look so stern with her?’
’He’d be harsh if she got a problem wrong. Harsh if she skipped breakfast. Harsh if she drank cold water. Harsh if she came home late. Even when she was bullied by others, he was still harsh with her.’
’She hadn’t done anything wrong this time, and he was *still* being harsh with her?!’
’Where was the justice in that!’
Fueled by a combination of alcohol and past memories, a wave of indignation washed over Joanna Kennedy. She struggled, pushing against the man’s firm, broad chest, her lips pouting as she muttered sullenly, "Go away, I don’t want you..."
Simon Lockwood stopped in his tracks. He slowly lowered his gaze, looking down at her, trying to suppress something that was about to burst forth. "What did you say?"
But Joanna Kennedy didn’t notice, still digging her own grave. "I said, I don’t want... *sob*..."
A large hand suddenly clamped down hard over her plump lips, nearly covering her entire face. Whimpering, Joanna Kennedy was pushed into the back seat of the car.
The man followed her in, slammed the door shut, and pinned her beneath him. In the dim light of the car, his breathing was heavy as he said viciously, "You’re not allowed to not want me. Understand? You’re not allowed!"
’The hands of the clock turned, but it was a twelve o’clock that would never arrive. For six years, he had been trapped in that bedroom, waiting for someone who would never return.’
The man’s eyes were bloodshot. He bit out a single word: "Apologize."
"*Sob sob sob...*" Terrified, Joanna Kennedy was crying uncontrollably, her eyelashes soaked with tears. She reached up, trying to pry away the large hand covering half her face.
Simon Lockwood was still lost in a towering rage, the dull ache in his chest preventing him from thinking clearly. To him, the girl’s struggles looked like an attempt to flee.
’She wants to leave me... She wants to leave me...’
’And why wouldn’t she? She’s already done it once before...’
Simon Lockwood’s mind went blank. TICK TOCK. The sound of a clock filled his ears again. The scene swam around him. It felt as if a knife had been plunged into his heart and was now being twisted, slowly and relentlessly.
"Apologize." The word was practically torn from his throat, carrying with it a terrifying, metallic scent of blood. The pressure from his hand increased. "Apologize!"
Each vicious demand to "Apologize" sounded, inexplicably, like a desperate plea of "Don’t go."
The girl beneath him gradually stopped struggling. Her tear-filled eyes, brimming with sorrow, seemed to gaze through six long years and deep into the eyes of the Simon Lockwood before her now.
Simon Lockwood’s pupils contracted. He snapped back to his senses, releasing his hand in a near panic.
"COUGH... COUGH..." Finally free, Joanna Kennedy turned to the side, coughing hoarsely. She looked delicate and fragile.
Simon Lockwood instinctively reached for her, but then, as if remembering something, his face paled and he slowly, helplessly, pulled his hand back.
In mid-air, it was caught by the girl’s soft, strengthless hand.
Simon Lockwood’s body went rigid. He lifted his handsome face, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. His fingers remained stiff, not daring to grasp her hand in return.
Getting no response, Joanna Kennedy struggled to sit up, displeased. Her slender arms trembled as they wrapped around the man’s lean waist.
She was like a small animal, baring its soft belly in a gesture of complete surrender.
The small animal nestled into his arms, nuzzling against him, oblivious to the danger. Her voice was still thick with drink. "Simon... I’m thirsty. Do you have any water?"
"...Yes."
His hands trembling, Simon Lockwood grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the front. It took him several tries to twist the cap off before he held it to the girl’s lips.
Joanna Kennedy took many small sips. When she’d had enough, she turned her head away.
Simon Lockwood’s voice was very soft. "More?"
Joanna Kennedy shook her head and slumped against his shoulder, unmoving.
After a long moment, Simon Lockwood finally dared to wrap his arms around her in return. His voice was a low whisper. "I’m sorry..."
’I shouldn’t have... treated you like that.’
No one answered him. The girl on his shoulder was already asleep, her breathing light and even.
Simon Lockwood couldn’t help but close his eyes, his thick, dark lashes glistening with moisture.
