The Billionaire Heir Fell for the Wrong Girl (Hathaway Whitmore) novel Chapter 169

Chapter 169

Hathaway only brought her phone with her as she headed upstairs. When she walked into the private room at the coffee shop, she was surprised to see Milo waiting for her.

Hathaway’s expression was complicated. Milo was old enough to be her uncle.

Has Avery completely lost it? she thought. If I really married Milo, would we know who’s supposed to be the older one?

The private room was dimly lit, and Milo’s profile was cast in shadow, making him look more serious and reserved. Hathaway felt a wave of unease and instinctively wanted to turn and run.

But then, Milo looked up and noticed her arrival.

“Hattie, have a seat,” Milo said, his voice calm and steady.

Hathaway paused for a moment, then slowly sat down across from him, greeting him politely. “Mr. Carmichael.”

Milo’s gentle gaze fell on her fair face as he smiled. “I’ve already ordered you a latte. If it’s not to your taste, feel free to pick something else.”

Hathaway replied softly, “No need to trouble yourself. A latte is fine.”

Milo sat across from her; his presence was so commanding that it felt like facing a strict elder. Hathaway was tense from start to finish; she couldn’t loosen up at all.

After a moment of silence, Milo finally spoke. “Your brother told me you’ve been going on blind dates lately. So, did you and Lorenzo call it quits? Guess I still stand a chance.”

Hathaway sat ramrod straight, feeling cold sweat trickling down her back.

Milo noticed how stiff she was and chuckled lightly. “You look like you’re facing the principal.”

Hathaway lowered her gaze, a hint of helplessness tugging at her lips. “Mr. Carmichael, were you in the car during that accident on the overpass? Did you save my life?”

Milo looked a bit surprised. “No, I wasn’t in the car. I noticed you simply because I admire your extraordinary presence.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Hathaway’s eyes.

Milo kept talking, pointing out all the things he liked about her. As Hathaway listened, she started to loosen up, not nearly as uptight as when she first walked in.

“Who doesn’t enjoy a little flattery?” she thought, actually finding herself soaking up his compliments.

As their conversation went on and time was running short, Hathaway told Milo she had a flight to catch.

Milo then realized she was going on a trip with her friends. “I was hoping to take you out for lunch, but it looks like we’ll have to save that for another time.”

They stepped out of the coffee shop together.

Milo walked her over to the Rolls-Royce parked by the curb.

Just then, Milo suddenly wrapped an arm around her, gently pulling her close as he whispered a warning. “Don’t move. There’s someone about 300 feet back. Looks like they’re trying to snap photos of you.”

Hathaway’s body went rigid, every muscle tensing up in an instant.

Her mind instantly flashed to Nina.

Nina was now working as Jessica’s bodyguard. Could he really be lurking in the shadows, snapping pictures of me because Jessica told him to? Hathaway wondered.

After a moment, Milo slowly let her go, his gaze drifting into the distance. “They’re gone.”

Just then, Benson opened the car door and stepped out, urging Hathaway to head to the airport. He hadn’t dared to come out while they were hugging.

Milo looked at Hathaway and said gently, “Take care on your way. Give me a call when you get there.”

Hathaway nodded in agreement.

When Nina walked into Jeremiah’s office, Jeremiah was buried in paperwork. Hearing the movement, he didn’t look up; he held out his hand, expecting his tablet as usual.

But instead, he got a stack of photos.

Jeremiah looked up, his cold gaze landing straight on Nina.

Nina gave an awkward smile.

Today, worried Jeremiah might smash the tablet in frustration, Nina played it safe and printed out the photos for him to look over.

Sure enough, after flipping through each photo, Jeremiah’s face darkened, his expression turning downright grim. In the next instant, he grabbed the whole stack and hurled it to the floor in fury.

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