Flash Marriage: Slow Down Mister

Chapter 134 The Man is Found

After Horace and Clara left the auction, they got straight into their car and prepared to go home.

With all that had happened at the charity auction, there was no telling what the rumors would be. Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

Horace's $10 million bid will surely be another Stratmont sensation and may even make the headlines.

When Clara arrived at the car, she took out a small handkerchief and wiped the wine stains from

Horace's arms and body.

She whispered, "I'm sorry, it's all my fault for causing you trouble again."

Trouble?

Horace laughed softly.

Clara, you are indeed a massive pain in the ass.

But I am willing to be troubled by you, and with you by my side, I am eager to be so troubled for you

every day.

Horace patted her and said, "That's okay, I like it."

Clara's heart was grateful to Horace; she could feel his warmth and love every time.

The things he does for her cannot be measured in terms of value.

Clara felt so happy to have Horace's love. Since she grew up alone, Clara has never known what love

is. When she met Darren, she thought that was love and that she could live in the sunshine every day

and be happy.

But when she met Horace, Clara finally knew what love was.

Horace has been defending her from the start. On the day of the blind date, he took care of her meal

expenses so that she wouldn't make a fool of herself. Then, he wanted to marry her, indirectly solving

the problem of Clara's account so that her mother, Helena, could recover. Then, there was the

uncountable love and heroic rescue; such a man was worthy of a lifetime commitment.

Clara suddenly couldn't help but hug Horace.

His chest was so warm and expansive, and Clara felt comfortable.

She felt his warmth and heartbeat; at that moment, she just wanted to lean into his embrace and forget

all her unhappiness.

Clara said, "Horace, thank you. Not thank you because of the ten million dollars, thank you because of

your love and protection of me, thank you."

Horace's heart heated up, and it was the first time Clara had ever offered to hug him. She probably

wasn't angry with him anymore.

Horace didn't have time to react; what was wrong with Clara?

He asked carefully, "You're not angry with me anymore?"

"I stopped being angry a long time ago." Clara said frankly, "I just thought before that you didn't respect

me enough; how could ... you treat me so dominantly, not at all gently, almost rudely. But when I think

about it, you were, I think, just too angry at the time, and you can't be blamed for all of it."

Horace frowned, "You were just angry about that?"

Clara tilted her head sideways and asked curiously, "What else would I be angry about?"

Horace thought that after all these days of cold-fighting, Clara was angry because she cared about

what Darren thought, and that's why he was so upset.

It turns out that wasn't the case.

Instead of answering Clara's question directly, Horace smiled and said, "It's good that you're not angry

anymore."

Clara said, "So, you're not angry either?"

Horace wanted to ask about the photo of Darren kissing Clara but didn't want to remind Clara of the

man again.

At the same time, it didn't seem necessary to know. At this very moment, Clara was sitting beside him,

looking at him with such affection that he didn't think anything mattered.

He believed her.

It was that simple.

Horace said, "Silly girl, I stopped being angry long ago, too."

"Then why have you ignored me all these days? It's killing me inside." Clara asked, frowning.

Horace looked at Clara's delicate face and wondered what he would do with her.

"I'm not ignoring you." He hugged her and whispered, "And not angry."

Clara frowned.

So, he wasn't angry. Did that mean he wasn't jealous?

"I thought you were jealous."

"I was indeed jealous." Horace didn't deny it either.

Clara's heart sank.

He added, "But I believe you, Clara, I believe you. I'm just jealous."

I believe you.

Three simple words, but they warmed Clara's heart.

Darren didn't believed in her back then, but now Horace did.

That's the right person, right?

That's good.

They looked at each other and smiled. The cold war that had been going on for so many days was

because they cared too much about each other.

Horace holds Clara's hand tightly and clasps her fingers together.

Looking at the beautiful Clara in front of him, Horace felt a tightening in his throat.

Clara saw the burning gaze in Horace's eyes.

She ducked her head sheepishly.

But Horace caught her chin, lifted it and kissed her on the lips.

Clara's body began to soften, her heart full of affection.

She could get rid of her previous passivity and kiss Horace alone.

Horace is so moved that his heart flutters with it.

Horace's love grew, and Clara's arms wrapped around his neck.

His lips felt like they were going to eat her, and Clara let Horace have his way as she took his caresses,

willingly giving him everything she had.

The temperature in the carriage grew warmer as Horace murmured into her ear, "Go home and let me

feed you well."

Clara breathed deeply, her chest heaving together, her face blushing more and more.

The shyer she was, the more attractive she looked to Horace, and he sealed her lips with his again.

They kissed, and the day's events seemed to flow warmly through Clara's heart at that moment.

Clara melts too, like the icebergs of the Himalayas melting away into bubbling glacial water, nourishing

each other's hearts.

When the car finally arrived at the villa, the driver and Isaac, red-faced, watched the two of them get

out.

It was only then that Clara noticed someone else in the car and blushed, feeling the redness and heat

on her cheeks from the kiss and hastily straightening her dress.

Horace said, "Come on, let's go home."

They got out of the car, and Clara pushed Horace into the house. Horace was thinking about how to

have Clara when he got a call from Alastair.

What a wrong time for this bugger!

Horace frowned and didn't want to bother, so he hung up, but Alastair made a second call.

Horace then stood up. He knew Alastair. He usually seemed to be indifferent. It must be something

important for him to be so urgent.

Horace said to Clara, "You go up first; I'll make a call."

Clara nodded and went upstairs first.

And Horace got on the phone.

Alastair panted on the phone, "Horace, Horace, I think I know who the man in the Millennium Hotel was

two years ago who lost his silk scarf! I'll tell you all about it at your house in a minute!"

Horace's expression changed all of a sudden.

The man who did it two years ago was found?