Chapter 1271: Chapter 1271: How Could He Possibly Chase After a Woman Chapter 1271: Chapter 1271: How Could He Possibly Chase After a Woman And he didnât shoot that woman, which was one thing, but he even went so far as to move into a run-down resettlement neighborhood for her.
He bought the house next to that womanâs, and even cooked for herâŠ
Not to mention the improbability of him buying a worthless junk house, just the cooking alone is impossible!
He never cooks; he canât! He doesnât need to!
With his status, all he needs to do every day is wait for someone to bring him meticulously prepared dishes to his table.
He would cook himself?
How could that be possible?
Yet Scott Harris talked about it as if it really happened.
Baron Lawrence felt an indescribably restless irritation, and when Scott was about to talk about Enna Clark again, he cut him off abruptly, âEnough, I donât want to hear it!â
He could never be that childish!
And he certainly wouldnât pursue a woman!
What woman couldnât he have, that he would need to chase after her?
Unless that woman was as beautiful as a fairy!
The image of the refreshing little face he had seen at the airport involuntarily came to mind. She looked rather ordinary, without any particular brilliance, even bare-faced, without a hint of foundation, but somehow, he remembered her clearly. From her eyebrows and eyes to the shape of her red lips, he even remembered the curve of her long eyelashes.
If it were that womanâŠ
He felt a twinge in his chest.
Suddenly snapping back to reality, he realized what he was doing.
He actually had such a deep impression of a woman heâd only met once and glanced at briefly. How many times had he damn well thought of that face throughout the day?!
âShit!â Baron Lawrence stood up agitatedly and kicked over the trash can in front of him.
Scott Harris had just helped him redress the wound on his shoulder when, suddenly seeing him lose his temper, was startled, âLord?â
Baron Lawrence felt like a nameless fire was burning in his chest, that sense of helplessness of wanting to vent but finding nowhere to do so, and not even knowing why he wanted to vent, made him extremely irritable. With a stern face and an expressionless look, he said, âIâm going to shower.â
Without paying heed to Scott Harrisâ mutterings about his wound not being allowed to get wet, he headed straight for the bedroomâ
âSplash splash splashâŠâ The sound of the shower filled the bathroom.
Ten minutes later.
The man who had taken a cold shower emerged from the bathroom in his bathrobe.
Perhaps it was the cold shower, but his complexion seemed much better, at least not as irritable as before.
His hair was still dripping wet, and grabbing a brand-new towel, he dried the droplets before tossing the towel aside.
By chance, there was an English detective story book lying there.
How did that kind of book end up in the bedroom, and who put it there?
He frowned, bent down, and picked up the detective novel.
Before he had a chance to open it, a series of knocks came from outside.
âLord, dinner is ready.â
He hadnât eaten all day, and stomach acid churned in his belly. Baron Lawrence put down the detective story book that shouldnât have been in his bedroom and left.
After dinner, it was nearing midnight.
He hadnât planned on resting, but seeing the detective novel he had carelessly thrown to the bedside, for some reason, he picked it up again, as if compelled by some ghostly force.
He thought he would have another night of habitual insomnia, but after reading a few stories, he surprisingly closed his eyes and drifted off into the darknessâŠ
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