âYes, sir!â
In the private room, security guards swiftly covered Dr@perâs mouth, muffling his cries for mercy.
Then, they hauled him out of the room.
Once they were gone, the manager approached Hilliard and apologized.
âIâm terribly sorry, Mr.
Simmons.
I never expected that Mr.
Castro would do such a thing.
Next time, weâll ensure the customers are decent people before letting them in.
â
âs BunnyBookery
Hilliard nodded without saying a word.
The manager continued, âMr.
Castro has messed with the food and turned the whole place into a mess.
How about I arrange a nicer private room for you and Miss Turner?â
Just as Hilliard was about to respond, Jennifer interjected, âThere would be no need for that.
Iâve had my fill.
â
âIn that case, Iâll leave you in peace.
Let me know if you need anything.
â
The manager grinned fawningly, promptly exited the room, and shut the door behind him.
Immediately he left, the room immediately fell into silence.
Hilliard made his way to Jenniferâs left and settled into a seat that Dr@per hadnât sat on.
Peering at her profile, he inquired in a hushed tone.
âAre you content with a fiancé like Dr@per?â
âWhatâs your take?â she asked.
He sat upright in silence, his gaze locked onto her face.
âYou donât really Like him.
Otherwise, you wouldnât have stayed quiet and watched him suffer.
â Hilliard pointed out.
Jenniferâs smile turned bitter, and she said, âDr@per could help the Turner Group do well.
I donât have a choice but to agree to the engagement because my father wants it.
â
She took an empty glass and poured herself some red wine.
âEveryone in Forden knows I tried everything to attract a man but got turned down.
But Dr@per doesnât care about my past.
Itâs not your concern.
You wonât end up marrying me anyway.
â
Feeling down, she raised the glass to drink.
But Hilliard took it away.
Jenniferâs frustration bubbled within her as Hilliard snatched the glass of wine away for the second time.
A surge of irritation coursed through her, her words sharp and unyielding.
âHilliard, give that back! Who are you to dictate my actions? What gives you the right to impede my enjoyment?â