She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 308

Twenty agonizing minutes dragged by. From the outside, the faint clicking of the interior door handle echoed repeatedly. The woman inside was clearly trying to escape, but the doors were locked dead.

Wesley waited on the sidewalk. The car keys were in his pocket—he had grabbed them automatically when he practically leaped out of the driver's seat.

Since the boss had been drinking, he definitely couldn't drive, so Wesley was stuck standing guard.

Shivering slightly in the night air, Wesley reached into his pocket for a cigarette. His fingers brushed against the key fob, inadvertently hitting the unlock button. The headlights flashed once.

A split second later, the rear door was violently shoved open from the inside!

Lyra was straddling Rowan, sitting directly on his lap. Rowan slowly lifted his head from her neck.

Her floral dress was a tangled mess, hitched high over his tailored trousers. Her delicate earrings were completely gone. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, her face was deathly pale, and the corners of her eyes were flushed a deep, devastating red, making her look incredibly fragile and beautifully broken.

Wesley rushed forward, catching the scene full force. He was paralyzed with shock.

Rowan clearly hadn't anticipated the door actually opening. His dark, murderous gaze locked onto Wesley.

"My apologies, Mr. Jameson! I hit the button by mistake..." Wesley stammered, sweating profusely as he scrambled to slam the door shut for them.

Rowan, his hand firmly holding Lyra's back against him, commanded, "Get in and drive."

Wesley let out a massive breath of relief. Thank God they were only making out. If they had been doing anything else, he would have been fired on the spot.

By the time Wesley slid back into the driver's seat, Rowan had released her, and the two were sitting properly on opposite ends of the seat.

Wesley kept his eyes strictly on the road. Halfway through the drive, he realized the woman in the back was crying. Rowan was speaking in a low, husky voice, coaxing her. Phrases like, "Didn't I say you weren't allowed to cry?" and "If you cry again, there will be consequences." Rowan was talking more than Wesley had ever heard him speak, murmuring to her exactly like a man soothing a beloved mistress.

Lyra didn't make a single sound the entire ride.

Even her weeping was entirely silent.

Wesley thought to himself that this had to be utterly humiliating for a woman of her status. She was a prominent heiress, forced into the role of a secret lover, and then caught in the act by a subordinate.

Wesley stared rigidly ahead, suppressing the overwhelming urge to glance in the rearview mirror.

A good assistant knew never to pry into his boss's private affairs.

Still, Wesley couldn't stop the questions spiraling in his head.

Was Mr. Jameson actually keeping Lyra as a mistress?

Was she doing this willingly?

She was the Fairchild heiress, for God's sake.

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