Trapped in the boss's embrace (by Katrina A) novel Chapter 117

Chapter 117 Her Boyfriend?

Violet studied Beatrice with a curious tilt of her head, catching the odd flicker in her reaction but deciding not to pry.

"Alright, we head out at first light tomorrow," she announced. "No promises we'll actually track that girl down, though."

Then, snapping her fingers as inspiration struck, she added, "Wait—what if we could bait Madeline into leading us straight to Noah's body? Catch her red-handed, case closed."

Beatrice let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "That's... an awfully bold 'what if.'"

"What can I say? I aim high," Violet quipped, slinging an arm around Beatrice's shoulders.

She leaned in, rapid-fire outlining her half-baked scheme. "Well? Think it's crazy enough to work?"

Beatrice weighed it for a long moment before nodding. "Actually, the more I consider it, the more it grows on me."

Violet's grin widened as she drained the last of her orange juice. "Perfect. I'll go wrangle Zara right now. We'll keep the original plan but layer this in—let's see how it plays out."

*****

Friday passed uneventfully, granting Beatrice a rare moment of leisure.

She treated herself to afternoon tea with delicate pastries.

Damian didn't come to the office all morning.

He only showed up around 1 PM with Killian, then stayed in his office all afternoon with the door closed, without calling her even once.

It was the most relaxed she'd felt in a long time.

It makes sense.

With his big date tomorrow, he'd naturally want to conserve his energy.

On her way home, she remembered she needed to get Gordon more stomach medicine.

She stopped at a pharmacy on her way, bought the medicine, then after dinner went up to Gordon's place after making sure he was home.

"Gordon, these are for you," she said, offering the pharmacy bag.

"For me?" Gordon peered inside, thoroughly perplexed by the digestive tablets.

Why would Beatrice be giving him these?

"Ethan actually gave me some of your stomach medicine when I wasn't feeling well the other night," Beatrice explained with a smile. "So I bought these to replace them in case you needed them."

"Ethan?" Gordon looked even more confused for a moment, but then seemed to recall something. "Ah, yes! Now I recall—I did ask Ethan to purchase those. Goodness, this aging memory of mine..." He chuckled ruefully.

Beatrice chuckled. "Take care of yourself, Gordon."

"Ah, you know how it is—getting older brings its share of minor health issues. Nothing serious," Gordon sighed good-naturedly.

Remembering the huge box Ethan had carried, Beatrice sighed to herself.

That's an awful lot of "minor issues".

Clearly, managing Mr. Crowley's needs is exhausting—both physically and mentally.

They stood chatting in the living room when Damian stepped out from inside, dressed comfortably in loose beige loungewear, a book casually in hand.

His tall frame and sharp features were softened by the casual loungewear and stylish glasses, creating an effortless elegance.

Beatrice straightened, politely greeting him. "Mr. Crowley."

Damian stopped briefly, looking at her with mild surprise, and then glanced at the bag Gordon held.

He nodded in acknowledgment before sitting down gracefully on the couch, opening the book on his lap.

Beatrice was a bit confused.

Did he come out here just for the better lighting?

She quickly turned back to Gordon. "I should go. I've left something cooking at home. Take care."

As she turned to leave, a quiet voice drifted over from the couch.

"I heard you were feeling unwell."

The tone was casual, almost indifferent, as if making idle conversation.

Beatrice halted mid-turn and glanced back at Damian. "It was just a couple days ago," she answered lightly.

Damian slowly raised his eyes from his book to meet her gaze. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, thanks for asking," she replied politely.

He gave a slight nod. "Rest well this weekend, then."

"I will," she said, offering a polite smile. "You too, have a good weekend."

She left promptly, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

Damian's gaze lingered on the spot where she'd stood moments before, his brows knitting together slightly.

Have a nice weekend?

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