Chapter130 Would You Do Me the Honor of a Dance?
"Bang!"
The door slammed shut violently.
Immediately after, a tremendous crashing sound came from next door, followed by Thomas's screams and the pregnant woman's terrified cries.
"Thomas, you bastard!"
"Ahh! Honey! Honey, let me explain. Ahh! My head!"
Various crashing sounds and cursing mixed together, audible even through the walls.
Miranda frowned.
Though satisfying, the noise was truly too loud.
She turned her head toward Clifton, who still hadn't spoken.
"Show's over."
She walked over, her hand naturally resting on the man's wheelchair armrest. "Shall we go?"
Clifton looked up at her. "Alright."
As they left the club, they could still hear police sirens from upstairs.
The black Maybach drove smoothly along the road.
The car was very quiet.
Miranda sat sideways, chin propped on one hand, those beautiful eyes staring unblinkingly at the man beside her.
After staring for a while, Clifton finally looked up from his tablet.
The man turned, meeting her gaze, his eyebrow arching.
"Why are you staring at me? Keep it up and I'll charge you."
Miranda burst out laughing, her eyes curving into crescents.
"I was thinking how lucky I am."
She leaned forward slightly, moving closer to him. "So lucky to have met you. Before I could even make a move, you solved such a huge problem for me."
Just as they'd gotten in the car, Lisa had sent a message.
The online narrative had completely reversed.
The "real mistress's" pregnancy test, Thomas's chat records, and the video of the scumbag and mistress at the club had all been posted online.
Now the entire internet was cursing Thomas as a scumbag, and all those who'd cursed Miranda before were coming to apologize.
She didn't need to think to know this was his doing.
Clifton looked at the smiling face so close to his, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.
He closed the tablet, his tone lazy yet carrying some seriousness.
"Meeting me truly is your good fortune."
Miranda's smile deepened. She blinked, her tone taking on a playful quality.
"Then, do I have the honor of inviting you to dinner?"
Yesterday, with her injured face and bad mood, that meal had been like chewing wax.
Today, in such good spirits, she absolutely had to invite him to dinner.
Clifton raised an eyebrow, looking at her with an expression between a smile and not. "Why not lunch?"
After all, it wasn't even noon yet.
Miranda smiled mysteriously. "Because there's no time for lunch."
Her eyes sparkled with fine light. "I want to cook for you myself."
Clifton froze for a moment.
Then, those deep eyes rippled with traces of amusement, like ice and snow beginning to melt.
"Alright."
His voice was low and rich. "Dinner it is."
...
That afternoon, the kitchen at the Prescott estate bustled with activity.
Miranda wore an apron, alone in the kitchen.
When they'd returned, she'd specifically had the butler prepare ingredients, all things Clifton usually enjoyed.
Australian Wagyu beef, air-shipped black truffles, and fresh asparagus.
Clifton had helped her so much and protected her so dominantly. This meal required her absolute sincerity.
After two hours of effort.
When the clock pointed to seven in the evening.
The dining room had been completely transformed.
Candles burned in elegant silver candelabras, their flickering light illuminating the aromatic dishes on the table.
The wine in the decanter showed an alluring ruby red color.
Everything was ready.
Miranda removed her apron, checking the time. Just as she was about to go upstairs to call Clifton.
Looking up, she found the man had already appeared at the corner of the dining room.
Tonight, Clifton had dismissed all the servants.
In the entire main building, it was so quiet only the two of them remained.
He wasn't in his wheelchair.
The man's tall, upright figure wore a simple white shirt, sleeves slightly rolled up, looking both casual and at ease.
Miranda stood at the foot of the stairs, watching the man walking toward her, her heartbeat involuntarily skipping.
No matter how many times she saw him.
This man's face, this physique, never grew old to look at.
"Wait for me in the dining room for a few minutes."
Miranda suddenly realized she was still wearing clothes that smelled of cooking oil. Dropping that line, she turned and ran upstairs.
"I'll be quick!"
Ten minutes later.
The crisp sound of high heels on the floor came from the staircase.
Clifton stood by the dining table, looking up at the sound.
Miranda had changed into a wine-red halter gown, her previously pinned-up hair now cascading down loosely, curled ends resting on her round shoulders.
The dress was extremely form-fitting, outlining her graceful waist and elegant curves.
Under the warm yellow candlelight, she looked like a blooming red rose, stunning and captivating, breathtakingly beautiful.
Their eyes met.
In that instant, even the air seemed to thicken.
Clifton's gaze deepened, his Adam's apple sliding up and down.
By the time he realized it, he'd already walked to the foot of the stairs, extending his hand to her.
Miranda placed her hand in his warm palm, using his support to descend the last two steps.
"Why are you dressed so beautifully?"
Clifton looked down at her, his voice somewhat hoarse.
Miranda laughed softly, her finger playfully hooking in his palm.
"Good food should be paired with beauty, naturally."
She looked up, those eyes full of starlight. "I want you to enjoy both the food and the view today."
Everything she possessed, Clifton had.
Money, power, status. He lacked nothing.
Things she didn't have, Clifton had too.
Thinking it over, the only thing she could offer, the only way to express her gratitude, was probably this unique sincerity and companionship.
Clifton saw the sincerity in her eyes, feeling something gently strike his heart, softening it completely.
He tightened his grip on her hand, smoothly wrapping around her slender waist and pulling her into his embrace.
"I like it very much."
He whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her earlobe, making Miranda scrunch her neck.
Then Clifton freed one hand, picking up the nearby remote control and pressing a button.
Melodious, soothing waltz music instantly filled the entire dining room.
Miranda startled, turning to look.
In the corner, an old-fashioned phonograph played a black vinyl record slowly rotating.
Before she could ask.
Clifton bent slightly in a perfect gentleman's invitation, those deep eyes reflecting her image.
"Before dinner, would you do me the honor of a dance?"
Miranda looked at this man before her, as handsome as a god, her lips curving into a brilliant smile as she unhesitatingly placed her hand in his palm.
"Of course."
To the rhythm of the music, they danced in the flickering candlelight.
Her skirt swirled, two figures intertwining together, inseparable.