Chapter 230
[ 456 words ]
Claudia’s breath hitched at the revelation!
The connection? Both Blaise and Jaxon had made it crystal clear to her.
But now, with Yorick’s insinuation, Claudia felt an unprecedented suffocation, fully realizing the purpose of her visit to Spring Hill.
…
Having walked a considerable distance, Yorick’s figure grew colder, and Orion’s phone started buzzing incessantly.
He answered, and whatever was said on the other end remained a mystery, but his response was a simple. “Yeah, got it.” After hanging up, he hurried to catch up with Yorick.
“Sir, the heir to the Lugar family, legally named Ronald, commonly known as Mr. Quinn.”
Yorick stopped dead in his tracks.
Turning to face Orion, his eyes deepened. “Ronald? Mr. Quinn?”
Mr. Quinn, the thunderous name from Ferrowland.
The man who had been spending time with Stella, was he the formidable Mr. Quinn from Ferrowland? The heir to the Lugar family?
Yorick felt his blood turn to ice.
Orion nodded. “Yes.”
They had finally traced the man’s name.
Yorick’s aura turned icy, his fists clenched, as he mulled over the name. “Ronald! Mr. Quinn!”
So Ronald was also a Quinn…
Yorick’s breathing became labored. “What’s his relationship with Stella?”
Orion, caught off guard, instinctively replied, “Aren’t they lovers?”
The word ‘lovers’ struck a nerve with Yorick, unsettling his breathing once more.
…
Ronald hadn’t mentioned it was alcohol, and Stella had been none the wiser.
But now, hearing his clarification, she realized her cheeks were flushed-a sure sign of inebriation.
“Whoa, I had no idea. Thought it was
juice.
taste was so sweet it
masked the alcohol entirely.
strong stuff?” Content besoines
Ronald replied, “It packs a punch later on.”
Stella felt dizzy. She knew wines could be deceptive. “Whose brew tastes like this?”
It was sweet, with no hint of alcohol to her senses.
Ronald playfully tapped her nose, his indulgent smile tinged with helplessness.
He was right about the drink’s kick. Soon, Stella felt lightheaded, her vision blurring. “Whoa…”
She slumped into Ronald’s embrace.
Ronald effortlessly lifted her onto his lap. “Feeling bad?”
Stella’s breath felt warm as she wrapped her arms around Ronald’s neck, as if in a dream.
Or perhaps reality and dreams had merged indistinguishably.
She nuzzled against his neck like a kitten, murmuring, “Ronald.”
Ronald, worried she might catch a chill from the alcohol, wrapped her in a blanket.
Still concerned, he carried her upstairs to her room, intending to let her rest.
“I ordered some hangover soup,” he spoke softly.
Stella could hardly grasp what Ronald was saying; alcohol always left her in a daze.
As he carried her upstairs, she felt as though she was floating on a cloud, drifting into sleep, comforted by his familiar scent, irresistibly drawn closer.
Her consciousness blurred further…
“Ronald.”
“I’m here.”
“Don’t be with other women, okay? Don’t marry them, okay?”
Ronald’s breathing became unsteady.
Looking down at Stella, her cheeks.
fished, his eyes flickered. For t gemme, he felt the depth of her
genuine feelings.
Speaking again, his tone was softer, “Why?”
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