Forbidden Passion
Chapter 513 He Want to Kiss Her

Phoebe took her sweet time in the shower, then blow-dried her hair. Hungover and feeling lousy, she slapped on some light makeup. After changing, she hugged the wall, sneaking towards the living room, hoping to slip out unnoticed by Theodore.

From the kitchen, Theodore's deep voice drifted out, sounding like he was on the phone.

Phoebe peeked in to make sure he was occupied. She ditched her slippers, held them, and tiptoed to the door.

Ollie, perched on the cat tree, spotted her sneaky moves. He jumped down and landed at her feet.

"Meow."

Startled, Phoebe quickly shushed him with a finger to her lips.

She bent over, taking tiny steps to the door. Just as she was about to put on her shoes, someone grabbed her collar. "Where are you going?" Phoebe's heart skipped a beat. She turned to see Theodore, one hand in his pocket, the other holding her collar, frowning.

"Hi," she said sheepishly.

Theodore glanced at her slippers in hand, frown deepening. "Put your shoes on."

"Oh!" Phoebe quickly put on her slippers and stood at attention. "Shoes are on, Mr. Reynolds."

Theodore's frown eased. He grabbed her collar and pulled her towards the dining room. "Wash your hands and eat."

Dragged into the kitchen, Phoebe had no choice but to wash her hands under Theodore's watchful eye.

They sat at the dining table, set with snacks, light porridge, and soup.

"Drink the soup first," Theodore instructed, pushing it towards her.

Phoebe downed the soup. Theodore then pushed the porridge her way, and she quickly finished that too.

Raising an eyebrow, Theodore pushed the bread in front of her. Seeing her obediently eat, he kept pushing more plates her way.

Even though the portions were small, Phoebe was stuffed. She looked at Theodore pitifully. "Are you trying to stuff me to death for last night?" Theodore stifled a laugh. "Not pretending to have amnesia anymore?"

Phoebe thought, 'He's definitely punishing me.'

She made a last-ditch effort. "I blacked out. Did something happen last night?"

Theodore raised an eyebrow, his look saying, "Keep acting?"

The room fell silent.

Phoebe nervously hiccuped, closed her eyes, and said, "If I did anything wrong, please don't stuff me to death. I don't deserve it!"

Theodore's lips curled up. "You deserve it."

"No." Phoebe was about to kneel. She really couldn't eat anymore. "The me from yesterday is dead. The one alive today is your poor secretary. Do you really want to stuff her to death?" Theodore tilted his head, thought for a few seconds, and said, "Yes."

Phoebe felt hopeless but knew she brought this on herself. She swallowed hard and clenched her clothes. "I'm sorry, you can just hit me!"

Theodore was amused by her resigned look but didn't show it.

He thought for a moment, then leaned in and said, "Close your eyes."

Phoebe's heart sank, but she closed her eyes.

She braced herself for a punch. In the darkness, all her emotions-nervousness, fear, sadness-swirled around.

She didn't even know why she felt sad.

She had struck Theodore first the previous night. Allowing him to retaliate felt just, yet the notion left her feeling melancholic.

Her eyelashes trembled. After about ten seconds with no movement, she grew impatient. It felt like a knife was hanging over her head, ready to fall but not falling.

Just as she was about to peek, a warm hand touched her cheek.

It was Theodore's palm, gently brushing her face.

Phoebe froze. His touch was so light it felt like a caress. She opened her eyes to find Theodore's stern face very close.

His eyes were filled with intense emotions, making her heart skip a beat. She stared at him, dumbfounded.

Theodore's hand was still on her cheek. Her trembling eyelashes brushed against his heart, making him itch.

He slowly lowered his arm, resting it on the back of her chair, and leaned in slightly. His gaze fell on her slightly parted red lips.

He really wanted to kiss her.

Phoebe watched as his handsome face got closer. His gaze flicked down for a moment, landing below her nose.

She felt like she was under a spell, unable to move.

Suddenly, the phone rang, halting Theodore's approach. He looked at Phoebe, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

Phoebe jumped up and dashed out. "I'm going to work," she claimed.

Theodore instinctively reached out, as if to pull her back.

Seeing her rush to the door, he dejectedly withdrew his hand and picked up the phone from the dining table. "This better be urgent."

Lawton, sensing Theodore's gritted-teeth tone, nervously said, "Mr. Reynolds, Bishop has been making the rounds with some big-shot company shareholders lately. They've been meeting behind closed doors, and that might spell trouble for you."

Theodore looked up and saw Phoebe putting on her shoes and rushing out the door. His eyes darkened, and his expression turned cold. "He really thinks he can shake my foundation with just his words. He's overestimating himself." Actually, Bishop had been secretly contacting the major shareholders of the Reynolds Group for a while. Theodore had turned a blind eye, curious to see what Bishop could stir up.

Four years ago, when Theodore took over the Reynolds Group, he had purged the internal ranks.

It seemed that his methods had been too gentle in the past two years, making people forget how ruthless he could be.

Lawton hesitated and said, "It's said that Mr. Brandon Reynolds is supporting Bishop. Otherwise, the shareholders wouldn't dare be manipulated by an illegitimate child." "Looks like my dad's gone senile," Theodore said mockingly.

Lawton didn't dare make a sound. He only dared to listen to such blasphemous words. "What should we do now?"

"Set the bait. I want to see how much dirty money Bishop has made from the Grand Hotel over the years!" Theodore instructed.

Baiting the hook always worked, especially against those with ill intentions.