Chapter 227 Are You Worried?
Oliver’s heart was racing. They were both of the same age, but how could this man command such a strong aura and have such an intense gaze? He knew right away that this man was someone he mustn’t offend, and he also thought that this must be Anastasia’s boyfriend.
Anastasia saw Oliver off at the elevator and said with enthusiasm, “Oliver, I’ll treat you to lunch tomorrow. Be sure to come!”
“Of course. See you tomorrow.” Oliver left with the computer tower in his arms.
Anastasia turned around to meet the questioning gaze of the man standing at the door. She said calmly, “You should go back as well. It’s getting late.”
“Explain. Who is he, and why is he helping you fix your computer?” Elliot’s expression was grave, as if his rights had been infringed.
“His name is Oliver Shaw, and he’s a neighbor. He’s a decent fellow who’s excellent at his job.” Anastasia quickly introduced, then felt a little annoyed. Why did she bother explaining? He could misunderstand as much as he liked!
The little guy ran over and said, “Mr. Presgrave, Mr. Shaw lives right next to us. A week ago, my mommy left her phone in a cab, and Mr. Shaw was the one who picked it up and gave it back. Also, Mr. Shaw is super good at computers. Mommy’s work computer suddenly broke down tonight, so she asked him to come over and help fix it. Don’t misunderstand, Mr. Presgrave!”
“Jared, it’s late already. Go to sleep.” Anastasia felt like her son was a busybody, as he had no obligation to explain things in such detail to the man.
Hearing that, Eliot was still a little upset. After all, he would never allow the existence of other men around Anastasia.
“Mr. Presgrave, my mommy will get her new car tomorrow. She said she’ll bring me on a drive!” Jared continued.
Elliot turned around to look at the woman. “You bought a car? Do you have a license?”
“Don’t underestimate me. Of course, I have a license.” Anastasia had gotten it six years ago when she was in her second year of college, but she just never had a chance to drive ever since.
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