My One-month Marriage With Mr. Hawkins

Chapter 21: The Man in the Hotel That Night

With her mind entangled in messy thoughts and her restless heart racing with anxiety, Florence hailed a cab to the company instead of taking the subway.

She did not report to the Design Department upon her arrival but instead make her way up to the floor where the President’s office was located.

As soon as she stepped out of the lift, she unexpectedly bumped into Timothy who was heading towards her.

Florence asked promptly, “Is Mr. Hawkins in, Timothy?”

“You’re here to see Mr. Hawkins?” Timothy gazed at her with an obscure look in his eyes and pursed his lips into a smile. He continued shortly, “I was just going to look for you. Mr. Hawkins is waiting for you on the rooftop. You may head up there to meet with him.”

What did Ernest want with her? Florence brushed away her thoughts for now as she needed to speak to him too.

After escorting her up to the rooftop, Timothy did not step out from the lift but instead went back down right away.

An open air café was situated on the rooftop and it was open for the employees to enjoy their break.

However, the cafe was hushed at the moment with no one in sight, and even the waiters were nowhere to be seen.

Florence strode into the cafe and found Ernest at the spot where the best panoramic view could be enjoyed from the rooftop.

He was seated in elegant manners, his side profile ever so captivating and magnificent.

Florence was slightly anxious from thinking about what she had to say. She took a deep breath, mustered her courage and marched towards him.

She sat down across him, and asked out of politeness, “Are you looking for me, Mr. Hawkins?”

Ernest put down the coffee cup in his hand, his glance at her constituted complex emotions that could not be apprehended. The stare lasted for a while and he finally said with husky tone, “The man you met at the Style Hotel that night…”

“You knew about that night?” Florence was utterly confounded, to the extent that her sweeping eyelashes were fluttering in shock.

In hindsight, she recalled that the man in the hotel that night seemed to be someone of great influence and prestige too. As the man behind the curtain for the Style Hotel, Ernest would have known about this incident after that man had brought about a turmoil in the hotel, exhausting every attempt to uncover her identity. It was no surprise that Ernest would get hold of her identity quicker than that man.

With her fists clenched, Florence gritted her teeth and said with a hushed tone, “Mr. Hawkins, I am here to speak to you about the matter that night too. Could you do me a favour?” Her voice revealed her earnest imploration for his assistance.

Ernest’s face darkened as he implicitly realized something might not be right after noticing the earnest imploration and fear in her eyes. “What can I help you with?”

Florence was embarrassed to have to spill to him about what had happened that night.

She opened her mouth heavily, “I do not wish to be discovered by that man and I do not want anything to do with him in the future as well. However, I dropped my diamond-stud earrings in the room in the Style Hotel the other day which could lead to my identity being revealed, and I really do not wish for

him to get hold of them. Mr. Hawkins, could you help me out by getting the earrings for me? Or else, I can get them myself as long as you give me the clearance to do so.”

Ernest’s face blackened even more, his voice getting hoarser, “You do not wish to be involved with him at all?”

After a pause, he spitted out the next sentence coldly, “Do you hate him?”

“Of course. He did that to me while I was drunk and unconscious. What difference is there of him and those bastards who sexually assaulted drunk girls outside the bar?”

Florence replied with no hesitation, her expression displaying detestation and a bit of fear. How she wished she could have given him a thrashing if not for the extreme danger that the man emitted, and the feeling that she could not afford to offend him.

Ernest’s face took on a ghastly expression; his thin lips pursed tightly while he sat bolt upright as if he was an ice sculpture, emanating brooding chilliness.

Florence was not sure whether he will help her out given that Ernest just kept quiet. She persistently asked with a hint of worry in her tone, "You will do me this favour right, Mr. Hawkins? I am now your fiancée nominally, so it will hurt your reputation if it was found out that I am involved with that man.”

His reputation would be hurt? How nice of her to have think this through for him.

Ernest contemplated at Florence with brooding and enigmatic eyes which were oozing hints of darkly menace.

What did she say wrongly? She thought to herself as his intense gaze had made her feel more and more conscience-stricken. There seemed to be nothing that could be called to her mind.

Although it was over her head, she continued while still befuddled, “Mr. Hawkins…”

As if he refused to hear her out anymore, Ernest replied with a stoned faced, “Someone will hand you the earrings.” He stood up after finishing his words, his long legs stalked across the floor to head downstairs.

Florence went rigid for a while, but she soon let out a huge sigh after seeing his towering back figure disappeared from her sight.

Even though Ernest only mentioned that he would pass on the earrings to her, but she knew his awareness of this incident would make investigation in the Style Hotel for that man much more arduous.

This meant that her identity would be safer from being exposed.

To celebrate Florence’s temporary elusion from danger and her success of attaining the title of the President’s Fashion Designer, Phoebe suggested a party at the club for the two cheerful events.

MJ Club is the youngsters’ darling among all the entertainment outlets in City N.

Deafening and heated music were playing enthusiastically over the speaker, and the dance floor was crowded with countless men and women displaying their feverish dance moves. The scene in the club was very happening and rousing.

Phoebe grabbed Florence’s hand, passing by numerous seats to head to the dance floor.

“Come on Flory, let’s dance.”

“But I don’t know how to.”

“Don’t worry, I will teach you.”

Phoebe stopped abruptly after taking a few steps forward. Her eyes were fixated on the VIP deck in front of them, and she exclaimed after noticing a familiar face, “Eh, that’s Ernest Hawkins right.”

Florence followed her glance and saw that a few young men were seated on the grand and luxurious VIP deck, while Ernest was sitting by himself on a single-seat sofa.

The flickering lights danced on his body, making him seemed utterly inscrutable and posh.

As if there was some telepathy between them, Ernest looked up and shot his gaze towards the direction where Florence was in.

In an instant, their eyes met and locked on each other.

Florence’s heart leapt into her throat, and she swiftly averted her eyes as if she was guilt-stricken. With uneasiness swelling up inside of her, she grasped on to Phoebe and started pulling her to march into another direction.

“Florence?!” Harold shouted from her back at that moment.

Florence stopped in her tracks, wanting to pretend that she heard nothing at all and just keep on moving.

However, Phoebe grabbed hold of her instead, her face displaying an enigmatic smirk as she said, “I think that man is calling for you. He’s walking towards us now.”

In that dilly-dallying moment, Harold had managed to appear in front of Florence with a few big strides.

He smiled and said, “What a coincidence, Florence. Are you here in MJ to have some fun?” NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

“Oh yeah, what are the odds.” Florence nodded her head awkwardly.

“Ernest is here with me too. Why not come over to have a seat since we have bumped into each other?”

“There’s no need to…” Just as Florence was about to decline the invitation, she was interrupted by Phoebe.

Phoebe smiled at Harold and chipped in, “That sounds great! It’s more fun when there are more people around.”

“…” Florence was speechless. Was her bestie a traitor?

Since the invitation had been accepted, Florence had no choice but to follow Harold along to the deck. She immediately noticed Ernest who was sitting silently in a corner due to his powerful air of presence.

There were scores of women on the deck leering at him, trying to send silent and lascivious messages with their bewitching eyes.

“What are you standing there for, Florence? Have a seat.” Harold pushed her to the sofa where Ernest was seated, beckoning her to sit beside him.

Florence had never interacted intimately with Ernest in public other than that time during their engagement ceremony.

Looking at the breath-taking man in front of her, her heart tightened with tension.