Chapter 208 You Misheard
Carl turned his head again, slowly casting his eyes back over his shoulder.
His gaze was cool and deep, quietly assessing the girl in front of him from above.
Jean, as usual, couldn’t read Carl’s expression.
Finished
Then again, she never could. He was the kind of man who always cloaked himself in shadows–his eyes dark, his face unreadable, like calm water with no ripples.
Still waters, always hiding something beneath.
“Ahem…” Jean cleared her throat deliberately, and for a brief second, her usually bold expression faltered. “Did you just say… you were worried about me?”
As she asked, she tilted her head up slightly, blinking fast and looking at him with bright, questioning eyes.
Carl’s gaze wavered, just for an instant, before it sank back into its usual stillness–dark and unreachable.
“No. You misheard.”
Jean’s lips twitched.
Oh really? So we’re doing that? Just gonna pretend you never said it? I heard you. Loud and clear. Wow, what a fickle man–says something one second, denies it the next. That’s commitment issues if I’ve ever seen one.
Carl heard every word of her inner commentary, and surprisingly, he didn’t get angry.
He simply sighed and furrowed his brows, visibly exasperated.
Honestly, he didn’t know what had come over him when he said that aloud.
“Let’s go.”
He clearly had no intention of continuing this conversation. He gestured ahead, signaling her to keep walking.
Jean didn’t push it either. She nodded and fell into step beside him.
For the first time, they walked side by side.
What’s with this guy? Jean thought, her face calm but her brain in overdrive. He definitely said he was worried. Then nothing. Just ends it right there? And then tries to gaslight me into thinking I imagined it? I really thought for a second he was starting to warm up to me… Guess not.
As she stewed silently, a firm hand landed on her shoulder, giving her a pat–not too hard, not too soft.
Jean froze.
She turned her head.
Carl was looking down at her, hand still on her shoulder.
Chapter 208 You Misheard
“There’s a step ahead,” he said flatly.
Jean looked forward. There was a short staircase in the distance.
But… it was still a ways off.
Seriously? Was that warning really necessary this early?
Still, Jean didn’t let any sarcasm slip. She simply nodded politely. “Oh. Got it.”
Carl withdrew his hand and looked away, no longer making eye contact.
He hadn’t actually meant to warn her about the stairs.
He’d just wanted to interrupt the runaway monologue screaming inside her head.
Her thoughts were way too loud–and every word of it had been an emotional gut–punch for him.
For a moment there, he’d felt like he was being publicly roasted.
The silence between them stretched. Neither spoke again.
Finished
Carl eventually led Jean to the far end of the corridor, where they stopped in front of a locked room.
Every guest room in the estate was locked by default, accessible only with a key.
Carl deftly unlocked the door and pushed it open.
As Jean had expected, the interior was tastefully decorated in an elegant Gothic style. The bed in the center looked like something out of a medieval princess’s chamber.
Not bad for a criminal suspect.
Carl’s gaze flickered slightly.
Normally, a suspect brought to Secret Service HQ wouldn’t get anything close to this kind of accommodation.
Letting Jean stay here was a small indulgence–one that even he wasn’t fully ready to admit.
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