Goodbye, Mr. Regret

"Don't leave me hanging like this... it's torture..."

His lips-cool and gentle-brushed against the side of her neck.

Jessica jolted, her hands pressing hard against his chest, trying to push him away.

But to Timothy, every bit of her resistance only read as coy reluctance.

He caught her wrists, pinning both arms above her head.

Getting her to surrender wasn't difficult for him. He always had his ways.

Timothy's expression was soft, but beneath that gentleness ran a current of unyielding dominance.

Jessica saw the storm brewing in his eyes.

She shook her head desperately. This time, after they'd come back to the room, he'd locked every door behind them.

If he truly wanted something from her, there would be no escape.

She was so anxious, tears pricked at her eyes.

Her lashes were damp, her cheeks flushed pink, heartbreakingly lovely and fragile.

Timothy had been restraining himself for a long time, but he wasn't the type to take pleasure in overpowering a woman. On the contrary, he valued the experience—he would give her all the tenderness she needed to ease her fear.

Just then, the sound of a keycard in the lock. Sheila's hand on the handle-only to find the door bolted from inside.

She frowned, immediately hitting the doorbell.

Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-

The insistent ringing forced Timothy to let go of Jessica.

He frowned, his strikingly handsome face cold and unreadable as he straightened his shirt and calmly walked out.

Jessica sat up slowly, tugging at her clothes where Timothy had rumpled them. He had never once cared what she wanted.

Timothy opened the door.

It was Sheila.

His flawless, elegant features were frosted over with icy indifference.

"What is it?"

His voice was cool, almost distant.

Sheila could tell he wasn't in a good mood. She pressed her lips together, apologetic. "I... did I interrupt something? Sorry, but my suitcase is in your room."

Earlier that morning, when they'd gone to the convention, Timothy had gone to get the car. Sheila had brought her luggage upstairs and, for convenience, had left it in Timothy's room.

Timothy spotted her suitcase. The chill in his expression thawed just a bit. He walked over, dragged it out, and set it in front of her.

He made no move to stop her from leaving.

A pang of sadness welled up in Sheila's chest.

Timothy's shirt was crisp, though a few creases lingered, and his usually

immaculate dark hair was slightly tousled.

So, he'd been with Jessica just now?

They...

Jealousy flared in Sheila's heart.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her suitcase. She bit her lip, her voice tinged with sorrow. "Timothy... I'll be flying back home today. Could you check me out of my room when you leave?"

Timothy arched an eyebrow. "Why the sudden change?"

Sheila kept her gentle smile in place. "You saw how Ines acted. She's only waiting for Jessica. Over lunch, she all but said it outright. I came back for this, and since the outcome is clear, staying would only be awkward for me."

Timothy's gaze darkened, his voice unwavering and cold. "Jessica won't take the job. Ines's protégé is you-no one else."

Jessica heard every word, clear as day, from inside the room.

It can only be Sheila...

Her lips curled in a bitter, sorrowful smile.

Timothy had asked her if she wanted to work.noveldrama

But in his heart, he'd never truly considered letting her go out and find her own path.

Seven years ago, he refused. Seven years later, nothing had changed.