Top Assassins Call Me The Lady Boss novel Chapter 119

Chapter 119: Acting like a jealous a girlfriend

Chapter Hundred and Nineteen

The bowling alley buzzed with laughter and the rhythmic crash of pins. Neon lights danced across polished lanes, reflecting in Matilda’s eager eyes. She clutched a vibrant bowling ball, its weight grounding her excitement.

"Come on, Markus," she beckoned, gesturing to the adjacent lane. "Join me for a game?"

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Markus shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "I’m good. Watching suits me."

Matilda rolled her eyes, setting up her stance. "At this rate, everyone will think you are just my bodyguard."

He chuckled softly. "Technically, I am."

’Even Cole doesn’t do this much.’ she thought to herself as she rolled her eyes.

She released the ball and watched it glide smoothly down the glossy lane. It curved slightly to the right, then struck the pins with a crisp, satisfying clatter. A small victory, but when she turned, the smile slipped off her face.

There Markus was. He did not have the usual stoic look and neither was he silent like he had been with her all day.

He stood there not as detached or brooding as usual. No, now he was... relaxed. Talking. Laughing.

With them.

A cluster of girls stood just off the edge of the arcade carpet. They were around her age. They were her peers. What was special about them?

One of them touched his arm mid-laugh, and another twirled her hair as she giggled at something he had said. Markus did not pull away. He smirked and just nodded along. He looked engaged.

Matilda’s jaw tensed.

So this was his definition of "technically her bodyguard"?

She marched back toward him, her footsteps sharper than they needed to be, the clunk of her bowling shoes hardly muffling the annoyance bubbling in her chest.

"You are not even watching," she snapped, arms folded tightly across her chest.

Markus glanced at her, brows raised. "I saw the strike. Good job."

"That was three throws ago."

He sighed and straightened, the easy grin he had worn with the others fading like it had never existed. "What is the problem now?"

She flinched. Now?

Matilda narrowed her eyes at the group of girls still watching from a distance, giggling behind their hands. "No problem. Just funny how you’re allergic to fun when it is me, but suddenly you are Mr. Nice when the little giggle club shows up."

The amused light in his eyes dimmed. "Are you seriously doing this here?"

"You would not even bowl with me," she said, voice cracking slightly as the frustration caught up with her. "I ask you for one game, one moment, and you stand there like you are too important. But them? You are practically flirting."

Markus stepped closer, dropping his voice to a firm murmur. "Watch it, Kiddo."

"I am not a kid," she hissed, chin lifting defiantly.

"That is exactly what you are acting like," he snapped. "Throwing a tantrum because someone else is talking to me? You are barely eighteen."

Her lips parted, stunned by the sharpness in his tone. "Barely, huh? Well, today happens to be that exact day; my eighteenth birthday, Markus. In case you forgot. It’s ’barely twenty- four hours."

Something shifted in his eyes. Regret? Guilt? It passed too quickly to catch.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated. "This is not the time or place—"

"No, you know what?" she said, brushing past him. "Don’t worry. Go back to entertaining your fan club. I’ll go celebrate by myself."

As Matilda stormed off, her bowling ball clunked to the floor with a dull thud behind her. Markus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had not raised his voice much, but it had been enough to draw attention and not just from her.

From the corner of the lane, the cluster of young women watched the entire exchange with rapt interest, their amusement dimming into confusion.

"Was that his girlfriend?" one of them whispered to another, eyes still following Matilda’s retreating figure.

Though they whispered, she still heard them.

"She looks too young," another muttered, pulling her ponytail tighter. "Maybe she is just his little sister. Can’t you see him and then her?"

"I don’t know," the first girl said. "Did you see the way she looked at him? That wasn’t a ’little sister’ kind of glare."

A third girl laughed under her breath. "She was jealous. Definitely. The ’why are you smiling at them and not at me’ kind."

Then they laughed. It was irritating Matilda.

Markus, overhearing just enough, exhaled through his nose and offered them a tight, apologetic smile.

"Not what you think," he said.

"Oh?" the ponytail girl raised a brow, intrigued. "She seemed upset."

"She is just... young," he said, hoping to end the conversation there. "Her birthday is today. Her emotions are running high."

"So you are close," one of them nudged.

He did not answer. Just gave them a nod and turned away, eyes scanning the room for Matilda.

Because as annoyed as he was, and as ridiculous as she was acting, she was still his responsibility for the day.

And despite how much she pushed his buttons or tried to he was not about to let her celebrate her birthday sulking in a corner.

Matilda turned, surprised and maybe a little embarrassed to be caught grinning so wide. _{fr\eewebno vel .c(o)m}

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