Chapter 13 Lose Control
This kind of exception was definitely a first, even though Malcolm had only appointed Humberto to manage a single farmland project.
Malcolm’s secretary hesitated. “Mr. Bautista, maybe you should give it some more thought…”
Charlotte was equally surprised at Malcolm’s decision, and even her breath hitched for a second.
Malcolm said to Dawson, “Reach out to Humberto.”
He said so in an understated way.
Dawson had looked into Humberto, knowing Humberto didn’t have an impressive background. He came from a small village, and though his academic performance was fine, he wasn’t qualified to be one of the Bautista Group’s managers at all.
“Mr. Bautista…”
Dawson still looked hesitant.
But then he didn’t continue because of Malcolm’s glance.
Surprised by Malcolm’s arrangement, Charlotte stood in place, not knowing how to respond. Malcolm glanced at her without explaining anything because he knew he didn’t have to. She knew perfectly why he had made such a decision.
On a whim, she blurted out, “Humberto…”
Chimer 13 Lose Control
Malcolm’s gaze fell upon her.
She pursed her lips, not continuing.
She wanted to say Humberto didn’t need it.
However, she knew very well it was a lie. Humberto did need it. And if
she could…
Noticing her silence, Malcolm knew what she was thinking. Since she had silently agreed, he said to Dawson, “We’ll take a walk around.”
With Charlotte following him, they walked around the farm leisurely.
Just then, one of the local staff recognized Malcolm and walked over to them. “Excuse me. Are you Mr. Bautista?”
In Ariodale, the Bautista family was known for their generosity. Every year, their donations for education had always been the highest in
Ariodale.
Ever since they purchased the farmland, local people feared being evicted. However, their worry turned out to be unnecessary. Instead, they were all assigned proper jobs in this farmland.
They heard it was Malcolm’s decision.
So, they all respected the Bautista family, especially him.
Malcolm smiled, “Yes.”
The staff handed him a basket of cherries and said with a warm smile, “Mr. Bautista, these are from this farm. They’re totally pesticide–free and fresh. Please accept them.”
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Malcolm said. “Thank you.” Then he took the basket over and took out several glistening cherries to look at them more closely.
Charlotte was used to his high and all–mighty side, and this was a first. She was surprised to see him accept the basket.
The local staff thanked Malcolm excitedly, and he responded gently.
After the man left, he handed over the basket to Charlotte and said
without giving her a chance to refuse. “Let’s continue.”
With a full basket of rosy cherries, she was lost in thought for a while before catching up.
At night. Charlotte and Malcolm hugged each other tightly in the car.
“Still hurting?” he asked.
She couldn’t help but shiver a bit at his words. She had always found it an unpleasant. terrifying thing.
But this time, she actually lost control.
Yes, she did.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck. Noticing her long silence, he didn’t ask anything because he knew why. Gently tilted her face, he looked into her eyes, which gradually became crystal clear again.
Charlotte was too shy to speak. After quite some time, she nodded and asked. “Can I get down now?”
Since it was done, she didn’t want to continue to sit on his lap. And of
Cluster 13 Lose Control
course, Malcolm got it. While steadying his breath, he set her down on the seat, and she sat next to him, covering her breasts with her clothes.
Malcolm turned on the car light, and the dim yellow glow instantly filled the space and fell on Charlotte’s slender figure. He glanced at it before lowering his head, his lashes casting faint shadows across his face.
He took her dress from his own body and handed it back to her.
Exposed under the light, Charlotte felt ashamed. She clutched her dress while asking with her head lowered, “Could you turn the light off?”
Hearing this, he reached out and turned off the light above their heads. Engulfed by darkness again, she immediately put her dress back on.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, Malcolm lit a cigarette, waiting. Somehow, the soft rustling of fabric at this moment was deafening.
