After Betrayal - I Married a Handsome Tycoon-Chapter 100: You Don’t Like Me, What About My Body?

Chapter 100: Chapter 100: You Don’t Like Me, What About My Body?

"El—" what.

Before Caleb Lockwood could finish, Connor Quinn, who had "accidentally" appeared in the video, shot him a cold glare.

Their eyes met, and Caleb Lockwood flinched in fright.

Before the rest of his words could tumble out, Rowan Churchill, who was sitting beside him, clapped a hand over his mouth and finished for him. "A b-big man! Moira, why is there a man in your room?"

While Rowan Churchill and Caleb Lockwood were scared, Moira Sloan was simply feeling guilty.

So, in this atmosphere, the three of them displayed a surprising level of unspoken agreement.

One person stammered, two were vague, and all three tried to muddle their way through it.

"A friend," Moira Sloan said.

"Oh," Rowan Churchill and Caleb Lockwood replied.

Moira Sloan added, "Just a regular friend."

On the other end of the screen, Rowan Churchill and Caleb Lockwood nodded in unison. "We get it."

Moira Sloan, over-explaining, added, "He’s the brother of a female friend of mine from Everwood County."

Rowan Churchill and Caleb Lockwood’s acting was superb and convincing. "Right, right, right."

The video call, which had begun with warm affection between fellow apprentices, ended with everyone looking for the best escape route.

After the call ended, Moira Sloan turned and shot Connor Quinn a glare.

Connor Quinn, holding a freshly opened bottle of mineral water, looked completely composed. "It was an accident."

"Knock it off with your little schemes," Moira Sloan said.

At Moira Sloan’s warning, Connor Quinn’s jaw tightened, and his expression instantly grew crestfallen. "I wasn’t trying to use this as an opportunity to stake my claim."

Moira Sloan was suddenly speechless.

The next moment, Connor Quinn tightened his grip on the water bottle and walked away.

Watching his retreating back, which was slightly slumped yet seemed to be held straight by sheer force of will, Moira Sloan felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest.

’Wait a minute.’

’What did I even say?’

’He was the one who "accidentally" crashed my video call. He was clearly the one at fault, so how did I end up being the bad guy?’

Meanwhile, after hanging up with Moira Sloan, Rowan Churchill and Caleb Lockwood sat on the sofa, staring at each other in bewilderment.

Caleb Lockwood said, "Connor and Moira..."

Rowan Churchill stammered, "A ch-chance encounter, probably."

"But they’re in the same room," Caleb Lockwood added.

Rowan Churchill wrung his hands helplessly, then looked up at the ceiling. "It’s the weekend, rooms are hard to come by. Sh-sharing is normal. Right, it’s normal."

Caleb Lockwood frowned. "Should we ask Connor?"

Rowan Churchill replied, "It’s true that all men must die. My death could be heavier than a mountain or lighter than a feather, but I absolutely refuse to die for some stupid, pointless reason."

Just as Rowan Churchill finished speaking, the phone in Caleb Lockwood’s hand vibrated.

They both looked down. A text message had appeared on Caleb Lockwood’s screen: *Keep your mouths shut.*

That evening, Moira Sloan was too lazy to go out and just ordered takeout to the hotel.

Most takeout was heavy on oil and salt. Connor Quinn’s cooking had spoiled her palate recently; she’d never thought much of it before, but today she found the food inwardly revolting and could barely stomach it.

She only managed a few bites before putting down her chopsticks. Seeing that Connor Quinn hadn’t said a word, and not wanting the atmosphere to be too oppressive, she deliberately started a conversation. "How much do you make on a business trip like this?"

Connor Quinn replied, "I charge by the hour. Fifteen hundred per hour."

Moira Sloan raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t realized a Tattoo Artist could charge by the hour. "That much?"

"Yeah," Connor Quinn said.

"At that rate, you should have saved up quite a bit of money," Moira Sloan remarked.

’So how could he be this broke?’

Connor Quinn put down his chopsticks and said in a low voice, "Jobs like this are the exception. In Everwood County, a tattoo usually costs two or three hundred, a few thousand at most."

Moira Sloan understood. "Oh."

It was true. The average income in Everwood County was relatively low, so of course, the local spending power couldn’t compare.

As she finished speaking, a thought occurred to Moira Sloan. She adjusted her posture, crossing her long legs, and looked at Connor Quinn with a sly smile. "Did you really not have any women before me?"

Connor Quinn’s face was placid, his expression earnest. "None."

"Doesn’t seem like it," Moira Sloan teased.

Connor Quinn gazed at her bewitching, flamboyant face and asked in a low voice, "How so?"

This time, it was Moira Sloan’s turn to be at a loss for words.

’How so?’

’It’s obvious when it comes to... that.’

’He’s such a tease, and he knows so many tricks.’

’There’s no way he was a first-timer.’

But Moira Sloan definitely couldn’t say that out loud.

Their relationship was already ambiguous, and now they were a man and a woman alone in a room. If she brought up a topic like that, anyone who didn’t know better would think she was trying to seduce him.

In reality, she was just purely curious.

She had been curious for a long time.

Since the opportunity presented itself today, she had just asked on a whim.

The conversation stopped at this critical juncture. Worried things would get out of control again, Moira Sloan feigned composure, casually tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she stood up.

But just as she stood up, Connor Quinn, still sitting on the sofa, grabbed her wrist with his large hand.

She looked down at him. As she watched, he slowly leaned back.

With one looking down and the other looking up, Connor Quinn’s voice grew low and raspy. "Moira Sloan, I know you don’t like me as a person... but what about my body? Do you like it? Does it make you crave it, even just a little?"