Chapter 271 - 270
Simon Lockwood walked out of the old residence under a hail of Old Master Sinclair’s curses, his expression placid, his heart unstirred.
The moon was full tonight, hanging high in the sky—just like in Aethelburg.
As he sat in his car looking out, moonlight spilled onto the ground, stretching the shadows of passersby. People walked past his car, talking, but Simon Lockwood heard nothing.
In the enveloping gloom, his world was soundless—a silence so profound it threatened to drown him.
His hearing aid had died, its low-battery light flashing blue.
He wasn’t sure how long had passed. Simon Lockwood leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes in exhaustion. His brow was furrowed and his lips pressed into a firm line. He raised a hand to cover his eyes.
A cool breeze drifted in through the car window, ruffling the short hair on his forehead like a lover’s caress. In a trance, he heard a girl’s clear, sweet voice.
It was soft and coaxing, as if pouting as it called out, "Simon."
It felt as if a century had passed, yet in just a few short months, Simon Lockwood had been utterly defeated. He couldn’t stand seeing Joanna Kennedy’s look of disgust and detachment, couldn’t bear to hear her cold, icy words.
That was his... Joanie. But there was absolutely nothing he could do...
*
The wind was still blowing, and tonight it seemed particularly strong. The weather forecast called for rain tomorrow.
Joanna Kennedy closed the window and drew the curtains. Porridge was simmering in the kitchen. She scooped up the little kitten that was pawing at the drapes, placed it in its bed, and threatened, "You behave yourself. These curtains are expensive. If you chew them up, I’ll sell you."
The little kitten seemed to understand. "Meow!" it cried, even flashing its claws. But it was too tiny to have any real bite. Without a shred of mercy, Joanna booped its little head.
She tapped it and then fled, a perfect display of someone who can’t keep their hands to themselves. Even from the kitchen, she could hear the kitten’s nonstop "mewing." So annoying.
It had lost all the well-behaved innocence it had when she first found it. Joanna Kennedy sighed, not once reflecting on her own instigation. Then a thought struck her, and the hand stirring her porridge slowed.
Calling it "little kitty, little kitty" all day wasn’t a real solution. It needed a proper name.
’What should I name it...’
This stumped Joanna Kennedy. She hated coming up with names. After ten minutes, she finally landed on the perfect one—Lulu!
’So annoying, just like a certain someone. Lulu is the perfect name.’
’Lulu, Lulu...’
Joanna Kennedy repeated the name to herself several times, the corners of her mouth turning up unconsciously. Then, she thought of something, and her smile turned into a displeased pout.
’So much for pursuing me. Not a peep out of him since. Figures. Men’s promises are nothing but lies.’
Her culinary skills extended only to porridge and scrambled eggs with tomatoes. After a simple meal, she started clearing away the kitchen trash.
She’d been away for a few days, so all the trash bags in the apartment needed changing. Once that was done, Joanna Kennedy grabbed the full bag of garbage and headed downstairs.
The dumpsters were on the west side of the building. Joanna walked over, tossed the bag inside, and dusted off her hands. As she turned around, she noticed a car parked under the banyan tree in front of the building.
A black Maybach. It looked a little familiar. As she drew closer, she could see the window was open.
Peering through the half-lowered window, Joanna’s expression froze at the sight inside.
Inside the dimly lit car, a man was sitting in the driver’s seat, leaning back slightly. The back of his hand covered the upper half of his face, revealing lips that were a shade too pale.
The silver hearing aid on his ear flashed blue, again and again, illuminating the striking lines of his face—a sharp jawline, a long neck, and a prominent, alluring Adam’s apple.
Joanna’s heart skipped a beat. She immediately tore her gaze away and started walking off, only to force herself to a stop a few yards away.
The moon vanished behind dark clouds, and the wind was picking up. It looked like it would rain any minute. And with the rain would come a drop in temperature.
Her fingers, dangling at her side, unconsciously began to twist the hem of her top. One second... two seconds...
Joanna gritted her teeth, turned stiffly, and walked back. She stopped by the car and rapped on the window with her knuckles. "Simon Lockwood?"
She called his name, but when the man didn’t react, she frowned and raised her voice. "Simon Lockwood?"
’Still no response. Even if he were asleep, he shouldn’t be sleeping so soundly.’
Her gaze fell on the hearing aid, still flashing on his ear. Joanna’s heart leaped as a possible explanation dawned on her.
She tried calling out a few more times, but just like the first two, there was no response. As she watched, the man’s lips seemed to grow paler. His Adam’s apple bobbed once, and a drop of cold sweat slid down his temple.
Joanna was at a loss. She’d never seen Simon Lockwood like this; he looked so fragile, so pained...
For a moment, Joanna didn’t know what to do. Her hand dropped from the window to the door handle. She pulled it without thinking and was surprised to find the door was unlocked.
Simon Lockwood was having that dream again. In the dream, there was a vast expanse of white, with snowflakes fluttering down onto a broken mountain peak.
Amid the desolate, silent snowscape, a girl stood with her head bowed. Specks of blue starlight drifted from her chest, rising into the air.
As the starlight multiplied, the girl’s figure grew increasingly transparent, until at last, she vanished completely...
’Joanna... Don’t...’
"Joanna, don’t..."
The man’s voice was hoarse, laced with a nearly imperceptible sob, concealing some immense sorrow.
Joanna’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. It felt as if a thin wire had wrapped around her heart, pulling tighter and tighter until she was suffocating.
’Don’t what? Am I in Simon Lockwood’s dream?’
’We’ve only known each other for half a month. Why is he acting so deeply devoted?’
Joanna forced back the stinging in her eyes, miserably ducking her head. She had to pull the handle several times before the door finally swung open. The motion didn’t seem to stir the man from his nightmare.
Now that she was closer, she could see Simon Lockwood’s forehead was beaded with cold sweat, his handsome brows knitted tightly together. He seemed to be trapped in a terrible dream, an unspeakable, suffocating sorrow radiating from him.
Joanna took a deep breath and reached out to grasp the hand covering his eyes.
The instant her fingers brushed against his warm ones, her wrist was seized in a vicelike grip.
She didn’t know when he’d opened his eyes, but they were bloodshot, and he still seemed trapped in his nightmare. The emotion in their depths was completely unguarded—a terrifying, aggressive possessiveness that felt like an invasion.
The pressure on her wrist continued to tighten. The sharp pain finally snapped Joanna back to her senses, her delicate brows knitting together in agony.
A small, suppressed cry of pain escaped her lips, echoing in the quiet car, but Simon Lockwood couldn’t hear it. His mind and eyes were filled with only one thing: her stunningly beautiful face.
Her almond-shaped eyes glistened with unshed tears of pain. The tip of her nose was red, her cheeks were flushed, and the wide collar of her T-shirt exposed her fair, delicate collarbones—an invitation to take a bite.
’She looks so easy to bully, exactly as I remember.’
’Is this a dream?’
’It must be. Otherwise... how could Joanna be here before me?’