Dexter slowly opened his eyes. “Stop the car,” he demanded. The car behind had been following them around for the past two days. It must be the people sent by the police to tail them. To avoid any problems, he chose not to hide from the police.
Dexter walked towards the car that had stopped beside them, carrying a bottle of water. Summer watched as the man approached her car and stood by the door, gently knocking on her car door.
Dexter handed her the water bottle and inquired, “What brings you here? Are you feeling better?” He gazed at her with a slight grin..
When Summer saw him, she smiled widely, her small face shining with joy. “I’m conducting. research at the Russell Group. I wonder if I could have an interview with Mr. Russell?”
As a researcher, she was tasked with creating a thorough due diligence report on several major corporations. This job was not a typical one for someone with her background. However, she was exceptionally good at her job.
While maintaining eye contact, Dexter replied, “I have three meetings scheduled and won’t be available until after midnight. If you don’t mind. waiting, we can have it after my meetings.”
Summer was in disbelief. She glanced down at her watch and saw that it was already six o’clock. She believed Dexter was insane for maintaining such a hectic schedule. Over the past few days, she had been getting less than six hours of sleep each night as she followed him around.
He never took a break from traveling as he had – a packed schedule. ‘Dex, please take care of yourself and prioritize your health, she gently reminded him as he handed her a bottle of water.
Dexter chuckled and walked away. Following the incident at the factory, Summer’s desire for his attention grew stronger.
Whenever Dexter thought of the incident, he was reminded of Josie, and his face would grow grimmer. Summer watched warily as the man walked away, her grip on the bottle tightening.
Despite her family’s disapproval, she snuck out to find him. No matter what, she was determined not to give up on this man.
After all, he persevered and rescued her from the factory, never giving up on her. The location for Dexter’s final meeting was changed unexpectedly.
When the residents of Wavery learned about the incident at the factory, they decided to host a gathering to welcome him, which took place at a bar.
This place was only frequented by people from wealthy backgrounds. Summer was curious, trailing behind Dexter as she attempted to enter – the bar.
They were individuals who had resided in Wavery for an extended period to work for Dexter. Although he was uneasy with their excessive eagerness, Dexter had to keep them satisfied to uphold a strong alliance.
Summer hurriedly followed Dexter through the busy crowd but was stopped by an employee. “Miss, you’ve been here for a while. Would you like to order a drink?” Two hours later, Dexter’s meeting came to an end.
Summer lay sprawled across the table, her face flushed from the alcohol. The empty glasses in front of her were a testament to her drinking. Dex leaned in closer to hear what she was saying. “Dex, wait for me,” she mumbled under her breath.
When they returned to the Mason Garden, Anderson was awakened in the middle of the night to prepare a hangover soup.
Summer had a low alcohol tolerance and would become a child-like mess when drunk, flailing her arms and making loud banging noises as she knocked things over.
Dexter remained rooted to his spot. Anderson stared at him suspiciously, but his expression wasn’t giving anything away.
Dexter’s secretary’s explanation of what had happened left him gasping in shock. “How have I never noticed Mr. Russell’s popularity?” he wondered aloud. He brought another girl here, even though one was still recovering.
Dexter’s icy glare could have cut through steel. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed, raising his hands in surrender. “There are still patients inside.”
Dexter thought of Josie, but his spiritless eyes betrayed no hint of emotion. Anderson entered his bedroom, unaware of the man struggling to restrain Summer’s flailing arms.
