Chapter 160

“Just call me Aubree,” Aubree said, feeling a bit uncomfortable with Randall always calling her Miss Miller.

Randall readily went along with it, grinning, “Then, Aubree, why don’t you call me Randall?”

“Okay, Randall,” Aubree smiled.

At the next table, Kelvin stamped his feet in frustration. “Oh my god, it’s only been a few minutes and she’s already so close to him? Even Mr. Turner never got that kind of treatment,” he wondered.

Kelvin fumed inwardly. "Seriously? They just met, chatted for a bit, and she’s already so kind. Mr. Turner, can’t you step up your game?”

As the top executive assistant, Kelvin put his dramatic spin on what he’d overheard and immediately texted Bowen.

Kelvin: Mr. Turner, that guy definitely has ulterior motives for Miss Miller. He was just asking about her grades and if she wanted to apply to his university—isn’t it obvious he’s trying to snatch her up?

Kelvin added: And another thing–this guy is way too familiar. It hasn’t even been that long, and he’s already very close to Miss Miller. They were chatting happily when I entered.

Kelvin: Mr. Turner, Miss Miller looks so happy–she’s been smiling nonstop and speaking so gently! Could it be that she’s actually falling for this guy’s tricks?

If Randall ever found out about Kelvin’s messages, he’d be screaming bloody murder. He was merely showing professional courtesy to his business partner, nothing more.

They’d be seeing each other constantly as colleagues now, maintaining a good relationship was necessary.

As for all that smiling, everyone would grin when a goldmine came calling!

When Bowen saw the message, his mind was flooded with images of Aubree smiling at Randall by the window. Her radiant smile put even the most vibrant blossoms to shame.

Bowen looked up at the girl.

Bowen’s composure finally shattered. He reached for the car door handle.

Kelvin: Mr. Turner, look quick, that guy’s making his move!

In the restaurant, Randall accidentally knocked over his glass, sending the drink spilling toward Aubree. Some had already splashed onto her clothes.

Randall frantically wiped the table, all the while hurriedly handing tissues to Aubree, his face full of apology and worry.

But to those already viewing things through a biased lens, this guy was clearly up to no good.

Bowen wondered, ‘Where the hell do you think you’re putting your hands?'

Without hesitation, Bowen flung open the car door and stormed into the restaurant.

“Seriously, Bree?" he fumed inwardly, "What kind of taste do you have, falling for some smooth–talking guy who can barely say a few words?"

Ethan and Samson’s eyes lit up as they swiftly exited the car and followed.

Up ahead: Kelvin slammed the menu down, bracing for action.

The waiter, who had been keeping a close eye on Kelvin since he entered, was already on high alert.

Just as Kelvin was about to make his move, the waiter swiftly intercepted him. “Sir,” the waiter said firmly, “you’ve been fidgeting since you arrived. Is there something about our dishes that displeases you?”

Before Aubree had a chance to see who the oddball with the upside-down menu was, Randall let out a sharp cry.

Bowen’s face darkened, his eyes turning icy as he wrenched Randall’s wrist. “Where the hell do you think you’re putting your…”

Aubree froze at the familiar voice. “Bowen?”

Behind him, Kelvin, shaking free from the waiter’s hold, rushed over and exclaimed, “Miss Miller, you can’t just judge people by their looks. Well, if you must, at least go for someone like Mr. Turner. You really shouldn’t trust just anyone.”

“What the heck is going on?" she wondered. Aubree stared blankly at the group that had just stormed in, utterly bewildered.

Randall’s hand was twisted at an unnatural angle–clearly dislocated.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” he groaned, wincing in pain. “Aubree, I mean, Miss Miller and I were just discussing a business collaboration. Maybe you’ve got it all wrong?”

Bowen froze, his gaze dropping to the spilled water on the table. The sight made him realize–he’d completely misread the situation.

The menacing aura that had just enveloped Bowen instantly dissolved. Though he was still gripping Randall’s wrist, his hold had slackened considerably.

Bowen found himself in an awkward limbo–not knowing whether to advance or retreat gracefully, utterly embarrassed.

Bowen shot a furtive glare at Kelvin. ‘What kind of nonsense is he spreading now?' he thought.

Randall was drenched in cold sweat from the searing pain. Wincing, he pleaded, “Uh, sir, could you please just let go of my hand first?”