That was whether Andrea had really saved Heather.
Not to make Geoffrey feel guilty or have Heather repay the favor. She just didn’t want someone she hated to keep claiming credit for her kindness.
After all, someone like Geoffrey who even forgot she took a knife for him must have more than gratitude for being nice to Andrea.
Gareth had worried whether Maureen really wanted to leave. Now he knew she meant to go.
“Okay.”
After settling everything, Gareth took Maureen back.
Back at Pearl.
Maureen pushed the door open. Geoffrey had come back early, sitting on the sofa with his shirt unbuttoned, holding a glass of whiskey.
His slightly reddened eyes fell on Maureen.
“Finally decided to come back?”
Maureen walked up: “I just had dinner with him. If you’re bothered by that, I’ve got nothing to say.”
She was about to head upstairs when a strong force yanked her into his
arms.
Geoffrey gripped her wrist firmly, lowering his voice: “You think I won’t end him?”
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Right now, Geoffrey didn’t care about anything
Maureen’s pupils trembled violently: “You bastard!”
Geoffrey laughed: “I’m the bastard? Yer you were once so mad
love with me?”
Maureen caught the scent of alcohol on him, certain he was drunk and spouting nonsense.
“I won’t talk to a drunk. Let me go.”
“No!”
Geoffrey simply wrapped his arms around her, whispering by her ear, “If I let you go, will you just run off with Gareth?
Hmm?”
Maureen tried to pry his hands away
Geoffrey refused to release her.
He demanded word by word: “Why betray me?
Didn’t you swear to love me forever?
Why break your promise?”
“You know how I felt seeing that child for the first time?
I damn well thought he was my son!”
Drunk Geoffrey poured out all his bitterness.
“Then he tells me his father is Gareth!
Our child was lost just recently, wasn’t it?
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And you’re already carrying his?”
“How could you be so cruel?”
Maureen pressed her lips tight, offering no answer to his accusations.
Geoffrey pressed relentlessly: “Who’s the real bastard here?”
He grabbed Maureen’s chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
Maureen caught the scent of liquor on him, waves of nausea churning in her stomach. She fought the urge to vomit.
“Geoffrey, you’d better let go of me right now.”
“What if I don’t?”
Geoffrey, truly drunk, hadn’t noticed Maureen’s distress.
The next second, a retching sound echoed through the room. Geoffrey’s face darkened as coal.
Seizing the moment, Maureen scrambled off him and bolted for the bathroom.
This feeling was familiar. She must be pregnant.
Thump!
Maureen had forgotten to shut the bathroom door. Geoffrey strode in, now somewhat sobered. Frowning, he stripped off his soiled shirt and flung it aside before confronting her.
“Do I disgust you that much?”
Maureen turned to leave without answering.
Geoffrey seized her wrist again, then effortlessly hoisted her sideways
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against his hip. Suspended midair, Maureen’s head spun. “Geoffrey! Put me down!” she cried, clawing uselessly at empty air in this awkward hold.
Carrying her upstairs with one arm, he entered the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. His full weight followed, crushing her against the
mattress.
Maureen gasped, stunned by his suffocating heaviness–she’d never realized how much he could steal her breath.
Now, she didn’t want anything more to happen between them, so she bit down hard on his shoulder.
The pain made Geoffrey stop. His deep eyes fixed on Maureen, and he grabbed her chin.
With just a little pressure, Maureen winced in pain, her brow furrowed.
Geoffrey took the chance to hold her tight, reeking of alcohol, his hand touching the scar on her back: “The one you’ve always loved is me, right?”
Maureen might have said yes before, but now she wasn’t so sure.
Because Geoffrey was nothing like the gentle big brother she remembered from her childhood; he was too cold, too heartless.
Without hearing Maureen’s answer, Geoffrey couldn’t sleep, his head pounding.
He didn’t know if it was from drinking too much or something else.
Also because he was drunk, he missed Wayne’s call and didn’t know that over seven billion had vanished from his private account.
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Jacob hadn’t expected tonight to be even easier than last time. Staring at the long string of numbers on his computer, he wasn’t that shocked.
Instead, he started investing it bit by bit, in batches and under various names, into Maureen’s overseas company.
Next day, noon.
Geoffrey woke up, his head splitting. Instinctively, he glanced beside him–Maureen wasn’t there.
He immediately threw off the covers and got up.
Downstairs, Maureen was revising her newly composed score. She looked up to see Geoffrey’s chiseled torso, leading down to slightly wrinkled suit pants, sleepy–eyed.
He was getting increasingly careless about his appearance.
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