No More Waiting, She Chooses Love
Chapter 415

The man standing on the steps didn't even need to hear me say no.

Ernest, clad in a short-sleeved black tee paired with cargo pants, stood beside a sleek black motorcycle, exuding an aura of cool defiance I hadn't seen in him before.

Yet, this wasn't my first encounter with such a persona. Conrad had once carried the same rebellious streak, as if the entire world lay at his feet.

Every time I saw that side of him, my heart would race and skip in an erratic dance.

Even now, memories of riding pillion, arms wrapped around him, speeding through the cool night air, remained vivid.

"Do you still enjoy motorcycle rides?" Conrad's low voice pulled me from my reverie.

I knew what he meant. With a faint smile, I didn't answer but instead walked towards Ernest waiting below.

As I approached, Ernest moved to meet me, only to be intercepted by Jeremy Collins!

Our current boss, Jeremy, emerged from his luxury car, his shirt straining over a prominent belly. Standing beside Ernest, who towered over him, it almost looked like Ernest was giving him a stern talking to from my angle. I couldn't catch their conversation, but Jeremy glanced my way and nodded at Ernest.

Ernest approached me, his gaze fixed on mine, unflinching and resolute.

"Been here long?" I stood atop the steps, leveling our heights.

"Just a bit," Ernest replied, his deep, attentive eyes never wandering.

They say the eyes reveal the truth of one's heart.

"Let's go," Ernest took my hand.

Passing us, Jeremy nodded slightly.

"Mr. Collins," I greeted, acknowledging him.

As Jeremy went his way, Ernest and I moved towards the motorcycle. He handed me a helmet. "Why this?" I asked.

"Convenience," he said truthfully.

In a world dominated by cars, congestion was inevitable, making motorcycles a more agile option.

After securing our helmets, Ernest's all-black attire made him resemble a knight under the cover of night. "Front or back?" he asked.

I paused, having never considered the front as an option; my experiences with Conrad were always from the back seat. "I've never ridden in front," I admitted.

"Let's change that today," Ernest said, lifting me onto the bike before swinging his leg over to join.

His chest was pressed against my back, his soothing baritone voice right by my ear, "Lean forward, hands on the handlebars..." Under his guidance, I became the pilot of our ride.

With a twist of his wrist, the motorcycle roared to life, the wind and night scenery blurring past as we sped away.

As we left, I caught a glimpse of Conrad fading into the distance, his gaze lingering on me...