Chapter 465 The Slick Guy


    It was hard to miss someone who was easy on the eyes. He leaned against a white sports car, his


    composed gaze fixed on me, and the cigarette in his hand glowed against the evening''s gray, like a


    ghostly me flickering with silent menace.


    I was ready for that, knowing he would track me down sooner orter. So when I saw him, I did not


    freak out. I was not scared, not one bit.


    Gregory did not push me to head for the border, but I knew Lucas would show up eventually. I was


    in no rush.


    "Yvette, it''s been a while," he called out, flicking his cigarette away with a smirk, watching me from


    afar.


    It''s been a while!


    I have heard that a lottely, each person saying it with their own spin, their own mood. However,


    coming from him, it just rubbed me the wrong way.


    Had it really been that long?


    It felt like just a blink, barely two weeks. Why did it seem like ages?


    This is from N?velDrama.Org.


    I eyed him, breaking the silence with a tone that was neither icy nor warm, "You showed up way


    sooner than I thought you would."


    His lips curled into a blinding grin at that. "Does that mean you''ve been dying to see me?"


    Oh, if only he knew. Dying to see him drop dead, maybe, or get sliced and diced into a million


    pieces.


    I just shed a tight-lipped smile, keeping my thoughts to myself while my eyes probably threw


    daggers.


    He caught the look, his brow creasing in annoyance. He strode over, his hand rough against my


    cheek as he scolded, "Cut it out with those dagger eyes, you know I hate that."


    With a sharp flick, I batted his hand away. "Spit it out. What do you want?"


    He did not trek all the way here just to chit-chat, that was for sure.


    He pressed his lips together, a frown creasing his forehead, but he got straight to the point. "I heard


    you''ve been shacking up with Maxwell, that pretty boy. Be a dear, pack your stuff, and let''s go."


    I did not bother asking where to. I just headed straight for Maxwell''s ce. Not like I had much to


    pack—just that book, "The Legend of Jumaroshan," I had not finished. Might as well take it to kill


    time.


    Maxwell was not back yet. I left him a note so he would not worry his head off.


    Packing, what a joke. I had nothing to my name, not even a spare set of clothes—just the ones


    Maxwell had thrown together for mest minute.


    Downstairs, Lucas eyed the book in my grip, one eyebrow arching. "That''s everything?"


    I nodded, climbing into his car without a word.


    He did not seem to mind, just gave the book an extra look. As he fired up the engine, a smirk yed


    on his lips. "Never pegged you for a fan of this stuff."


    I shot a sidelong nce out the car window, my voice dripping with indifference. "Just caught a


    glimpse by chance."


    I was not in the mood for chit-chat, so I shut my eyes.


    He got the hint and did not press me with more questions.


    The ce he took me to that time was not the swanky mansion we had been to before. Instead, it


    was a modest vi on the outskirts of town. It was not huge, but it felt cozier than that shy pce


    that was almost too much.


    Cozy. The thought almost made me snort. Cozy was hardly a word I would use for a killer''sir. It


    was downright hrious.


    No bodyguards in sight, no one tailing us.


    It looked like it was just Lucas and me.


    That was definitely not his usual vibe.


    We walked into the vi, and he tossed his coat aside, sprawling out on the couch like he did not


    have a care in the world. He caught me still standing and curled an eyebrow, "Hungry? What do you


    feel like eating?"


    Right, dinner time had slipped my mind.


    I plopped down on an armchair, feeling anything but hungry, and said tly, "I''m good."


    Out of the blue, he piped up, "How about I whip up some noodles?" I blinked, confused, and gave


    him a questioning look.


    He met my gaze, one eyebrow cocked, "Don''t feel like going out, and noodles are quick and easy."


    What was he up to?


    I kept quiet, and he took that as a yes. After a bit of silence, he headed to the kitchen. The fridge


    was stocked, and even though the ce seemed new, the kitchen was kitted out like a pro''s.


    The kitchen was right there in the open, so I could see him moving around. He was tall and lean,


    and that pale blue apron he tied on just did not fit the picture.


    With his fair skin and the ck shirt making him look even more ghostly, it was tough to square the


    guy in front of me with the heartless monster rumored to kill without a second thought.


    I guess I was staring a little too obviously because Lucas, who was busy dropping noodles into a


    boiling pot, caught my gaze and smirked. "Yvette, you know, staring at a guy like that can lead to


    trouble," he teased.


    I did not budge, just kept myposed stare on him and let out a small, mockingugh. "Lucas,


    when you say things like that, it justes off as sleazy."