Titus Zane returned to the villa at ten o’clock in the morning and, upon seeing the man sitting on the sofa, paused in surprise. However, he quickly came to terms with the situation.
Since he was going to confront him anyway, not going to work was actually convenient. It was better to speak face-to-face than over the phone.
He was still dressed as he had been when he left the house the day before. The shirt and wide-legged pants under his trench coat were slightly wrinkled, but they did not detract from his beauty.
Especially his casually draped long hair and his unpainted face. Though it looked somewhat pale, it had an added sense of disheveled beauty.
"Brother, where did you go last night? Why didn’t you call to let us know you were safe? I was so worried," Olivia Zane approached in her wheelchair, her tone reproachful yet unable to hide her "worry".
Titus gave her a glance, his expression indifferent.
"What’s there to worry about? I’m almost thirty, do you think I’d get lost?" He said, without giving another look to the sullen Nathan Moore on the sofa, and went upstairs with a stomp.
"Nathan, what’s wrong with brother?" Olivia watched Titus’s retreating figure and murmured to Nathan Moore as she wheeled herself over to him.
Nathan gave her a glance, stood up, and walked toward the stairs.
Upon returning to his room, Titus began to pack his clothes.
A large suitcase was laid out on the floor in front of the wardrobe. He took all the clothes out and hastily folded them into the suitcase.
Before leaving the hotel, Logan Ray had already booked the plane ticket. It was for three in the afternoon, from City B to the capital, with a transfer afterward.
"Finally decided to come back?"
In a rush, Titus was packing hastily, which is why he did not notice the tall figure entering the room until a cold voice, sharp as ice, pierced his ears, making Titus suddenly look up.
Seeing the man only a few steps away, with his hands in his trouser pockets, looking down at him as he packed his clothes, the thin lips carried a hint of a smile. It was clearly a smile, but it made Titus involuntarily shiver.
Under Nathan’s gaze, Titus stood up to meet his eyes, with his arms unconsciously clenched by his sides.
After taking a deep breath, Titus spoke, his tone calm.
"Nathan Moore, let’s talk..."
Although he was not restricting his freedom, if he was going to leave, he should make it clear face-to-face instead of sneaking away since he was not a prisoner.
"Shush..." Nathan gestured with his forefinger, the well-defined finger positioned in front of his lips. His handsome face showed no sign of anger, and his thin lips even held a curve, reflecting in his dark eyes.
He indicated the open suitcase at Titus’s feet and said softly,
"No rush, continue packing,"
Nathan’s voice was light, soft, and magnetic, like the intimate whispers between lovers. If Titus wasn’t so aware of his character and the nature of their relationship, he might have been misled into thinking Nathan Moore was whispering sweet nothings to him at this moment.
Titus exhaled again, met Nathan’s eyes, and reiterated.
But Nathan merely glanced at him indifferently and turned away, walking toward the door with long strides.
His elegant pace was calm and unhurried, one hand in his trouser pocket, wearing a grey-blue knitted sweater with the button of the white shirt underneath open at the neckline, revealing a part of his sexy chest muscles. He moved like a male model strutting on the runway, his figure tall and imposing.
Titus narrowed his eyes slightly and then squatted down to continue arranging the suitcase.