I pursed my lips and looked down at my fingers. “Give yourself a break.”
He got up, and before heading to his study, he turned towards me. “Actually, there are still some things I need to deal with. I’ll try to get it done asap, and see you in a bit.”
I mellowed as I saw him walked further away. When I finally came back to my senses, I realized I forgot to check if he wanted dinner.
Regardless, I went to the kitchen, made some spaghetti, and brought it upstairs.
The door was left ajar, and I could see him on the phone.
I wasn’t sure what the conversation was about. The fountain pen in his hand landed so heavily on the contract that it pierced through it. The ink spread into quite a sizeable area from the persistent pressure. Something vexatious was brewing.
Those solemn dark eyes of his noticed what’d happened, but his hand was still driving the pen deeper into the table.
“Are you done?” Fury shadowed his face.
The person on the other end of the line seemed to sense the tightness in his voice. Nevertheless, the conversation continued.
“Brothers? Him and I? You don’t know what the market is like,” Ashton growled.
Yup, he is angry.
After he hung up, ferocity lurked in every corner of his narrowed eyes. He glanced at the patch of ink, lifted his hand, and proceeded with signing as if everything was okay.
Splash! The flick of his wrist spilled his coffee.
He maintained his poise, pulled a few sheets of tissue, and pressed his desk dry.
All these years jostling in the market had made him stoic. A poker face was his go-to expression.
After going through certain phases in life, a man would know clearly what he desired and what he’d rather keep his hands off. Those were the means of survival.
Knock, knock!
Ashton looked towards the door and saw me standing outside. “So, what have you brought me?” The gloom that was on his face a second ago vanished. A faint smile supervened.
I smiled back and walked into the room. After putting the spaghetti on his desk, I wiped the remaining coffee off, feigning oblivion.
After that, I scooped the tissues from his hand and chucked them into the bin. “I’ve made some meatball spaghetti. It’s my first time making it though.”
He gave out a warm twinkle, sat himself down, and munched away as if what happened just now was a trivial event.
“By the way, how’s Aunt Sally?” I asked as I tidied the desk.
Sally was Marcus’ stepmother. Thus, it wasn’t wrong to say that Ashton and Marcus are cousins.
“Umph!” He responded with spaghetti still bunged up in his mouth.
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