Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 52: Chapter 52
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 52: Chapter 52. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Just then Sir Whitmore cleared his throat and shot his grandson a warning look.
Understanding at once, Victor said coolly, "With her brother staying next door, what is there to worry about? Everyone in the estate is family—she's perfectly safe."
Annabelle's face went ghost-white. "Victor..."
Clutching his sleeve, she whispered anxiously, "Are you still angry about the other day? I never meant to misunderstand Elena—I just love you too much..."
Expressionless, Victor removed her hand. "This isn't the time. Go back to your room and rest."
Annabelle bit down hard on her lip; clearly Victor still cared about Elena, that witch!
Beaming ear to ear, Sir Whitmore announced, "Almost everyone is here. Ellie, Mr. Bennett, Adaline—please join us in the back garden downstairs later. Tonight we're having a barbecue buffet. Young folks these days love grilling their own food, ha-ha-ha!"
He then glowered at his grandson. "Well? Go shower and change!"
"Yes, Grandfather," Victor answered.
Seeing an opening, Annabelle dashed into Victor's room. "Victor, I'll wait for you."
Sir Whitmore's smile stiffened, yet he still hooked an arm around Elena's. "Come on, Ellie, let's head down first."
"Alright."
Even before Sir Whitmore's engagement banquet began, he had already given Annabelle a savage wake-up call.
The sting only heightened her sense of impending doom.
The moment Victor reappeared, she stuck to him like glue, trailing him all the way downstairs and never leaving his side at the grills.
Elena shared a grill with Sir Whitmore.
She concentrated on grilling skewers and handed them to him as they finished, mindful that the elderly gentleman shouldn't have too much spice.
From time to time Sir Whitmore's eyes drifted toward Victor and Annabelle a short distance away.
Annabelle clung to Victor's arm, rubbing against him as if she wished to drape her whole body over his.
The sight left Sir Whitmore thoroughly displeased—such shameless behavior in front of so many guests!
He cleared his throat. "Victor, come here a moment."
Annabelle's grip tightened. "Victor—"
Victor pried her fingers loose. "Grandfather needs me."
With that he walked off, leaving Annabelle gnashing her teeth in frustration.
"I see you're handy with the grill—make a few skewers for Ellie as well," Sir Whitmore said, surrendering his spot.
Victor glanced at her, his eyes meeting hers at the exact same moment.
He tilted his lips in a teasing arc. "You don't know how?"
Without looking up, Elena answered blandly, "My skill can't compare with yours, President Whitmore."
Victor's smile widened; he picked up a beef skewer and began to demonstrate.
Beside them Sir Whitmore wore the doting grin of a meddling aunt—until, little by little, the smile froze upon his face.
Because Annabelle Bennett had shown up as well!
Annabelle said with feigned regret, "Sis, Victor's grilled mackerel is absolutely delicious. It's such a pity you're allergic to seafood and can't have any—what a shame."
Annabelle's remark carried a sly double meaning; both Elena and Sir Whitmore caught it at once.
She started to edge toward Victor, but the old gentleman moved faster, planting himself squarely beside his grandson.
Annabelle's smile stiffened. "Grandpa, you must be tired of standing. How about I bring you a chair?"
Understanding at once, Victor said coolly, "With her brother staying next door, what is there to worry about? Everyone in the estate is family—she's perfectly safe."
Annabelle's face went ghost-white. "Victor..."
Clutching his sleeve, she whispered anxiously, "Are you still angry about the other day? I never meant to misunderstand Elena—I just love you too much..."
Expressionless, Victor removed her hand. "This isn't the time. Go back to your room and rest."
Annabelle bit down hard on her lip; clearly Victor still cared about Elena, that witch!
Beaming ear to ear, Sir Whitmore announced, "Almost everyone is here. Ellie, Mr. Bennett, Adaline—please join us in the back garden downstairs later. Tonight we're having a barbecue buffet. Young folks these days love grilling their own food, ha-ha-ha!"
He then glowered at his grandson. "Well? Go shower and change!"
"Yes, Grandfather," Victor answered.
Seeing an opening, Annabelle dashed into Victor's room. "Victor, I'll wait for you."
Sir Whitmore's smile stiffened, yet he still hooked an arm around Elena's. "Come on, Ellie, let's head down first."
"Alright."
Even before Sir Whitmore's engagement banquet began, he had already given Annabelle a savage wake-up call.
The sting only heightened her sense of impending doom.
The moment Victor reappeared, she stuck to him like glue, trailing him all the way downstairs and never leaving his side at the grills.
Elena shared a grill with Sir Whitmore.
She concentrated on grilling skewers and handed them to him as they finished, mindful that the elderly gentleman shouldn't have too much spice.
From time to time Sir Whitmore's eyes drifted toward Victor and Annabelle a short distance away.
Annabelle clung to Victor's arm, rubbing against him as if she wished to drape her whole body over his.
The sight left Sir Whitmore thoroughly displeased—such shameless behavior in front of so many guests!
He cleared his throat. "Victor, come here a moment."
Annabelle's grip tightened. "Victor—"
Victor pried her fingers loose. "Grandfather needs me."
With that he walked off, leaving Annabelle gnashing her teeth in frustration.
"I see you're handy with the grill—make a few skewers for Ellie as well," Sir Whitmore said, surrendering his spot.
Victor glanced at her, his eyes meeting hers at the exact same moment.
He tilted his lips in a teasing arc. "You don't know how?"
Without looking up, Elena answered blandly, "My skill can't compare with yours, President Whitmore."
Victor's smile widened; he picked up a beef skewer and began to demonstrate.
Beside them Sir Whitmore wore the doting grin of a meddling aunt—until, little by little, the smile froze upon his face.
Because Annabelle Bennett had shown up as well!
Annabelle said with feigned regret, "Sis, Victor's grilled mackerel is absolutely delicious. It's such a pity you're allergic to seafood and can't have any—what a shame."
Annabelle's remark carried a sly double meaning; both Elena and Sir Whitmore caught it at once.
She started to edge toward Victor, but the old gentleman moved faster, planting himself squarely beside his grandson.
Annabelle's smile stiffened. "Grandpa, you must be tired of standing. How about I bring you a chair?"
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