After Betrayal - I Married a Handsome Tycoon-Chapter 19: What a Delicate Woman

The night was deep, and the phone screen seemed especially bright in the darkness.

Connor Quinn glanced down at it, his expression indifferent, as if he hadn’t seen a thing. He didn’t reply or delete the message, simply shoving the phone back into his pocket.

Forty minutes later, Connor Quinn drove home.

He’d managed to avoid the worst of the rain, but he was still a little damp.

As Connor Quinn pulled out his keys and opened the door, Jade Quinn and Zachary Curran, who were sitting on the living room sofa watching TV, both turned to look at him.

Seeing how damp he was, Jade Quinn quickly got up to grab him a towel.

Connor Quinn took it, drying his damp hair as he asked, "Have you two eaten?"

They both shook their heads in perfect unison.

They were clearly waiting to be fed.

Connor Quinn said, "I’ll go change, then I’ll cook for you two."

With that, Connor Quinn tossed the towel aside and went into his bedroom.

Inside the bedroom, Connor Quinn walked to the closet to get some clean clothes. Just as he pulled off his black t-shirt, the bedroom door was suddenly pushed open from the outside.

He’d never liked people invading his personal space, and his brow furrowed instinctively.

A moment later, Zachary Curran gasped from behind him, blurting out in shock, "Connor, your back..."

Connor Quinn turned his head. "What?"

An unnatural blush crept across Zachary Curran’s face. "Fin-fingernail scratches."

Zachary Curran was in his early twenties, an age where, despite never having been in a relationship, he understood what was what.

The scratches on Connor’s back were obviously from a woman.

And at that awkward angle, they had to have been... doing *something*...

A particular person suddenly popped into Zachary Curran’s head: the owner of the Lacquerware shop next door.

Startled by the thought, Zachary Curran shook his head vigorously.

’Impossible. Absolutely impossible.’

’The owner of the shop next door is such a delicate, pampered woman. You can tell just by looking at her that she’s not one of them. Besides, Connor just got the cold shoulder from her a couple of days ago.’

While Zachary Curran’s mind was racing, Connor Quinn noticed the scratches on his body as well.

They weren’t just on his back. He had them on his arms, too.

There was even a bite mark on his shoulder.

’Back then, her body had been trembling, on the verge of tears. The last bit of strength she had was all used to bite him.’

Connor Quinn said, "Keep your mouth shut. Don’t go saying anything to Jade Quinn."

Zachary Curran snapped out of it, a cheeky grin on his face as he asked nosily, "Who was it, Connor?"

Connor Quinn said, "No one."

Zachary Curran didn’t believe him and leaned in closer. "Was it that ’Miss Gorgeous’ from the hair salon...?"

"No," Connor Quinn replied flatly.

Zachary Curran started guessing wildly. "Then was it Ms. Finch, the one who runs the flower shop on Central Street?"

"No," Connor said, growing impatient.

Zachary Curran said, "Then who else is there? There hasn’t been anyone recently. You scared off all the previous ones with that perpetual scowl of yours. It can’t be the owner of the shop next door..."

Connor Quinn’s face was hard. "And why couldn’t it be her?"

Zachary Curran continued without thinking. "Because there’s no way she’d look twice at guys like us. The owner next door is obviously one of those delicate women who needs to be constantly pampered and put on a pedestal. And you can tell she’s not short on men—elite men, at that. As for us..."

As Zachary Curran trailed off, he saw that Connor Quinn’s expression was unchanged, his gaze deep and unreadable. Zachary’s mind went blank, and then something clicked. "No way... Connor. It wasn’t actually the owner of the shop next door, was it?"

Connor Quinn didn’t answer. He turned away and said in a cold voice, "Get out. I’m changing clothes."

"Connor," Zachary Curran said.

"Don’t make me say it again," Connor Quinn warned.

Zachary Curran fell silent.

As Zachary Curran slunk out of the room, Connor Quinn didn’t immediately change. Instead, he walked over to the bed, picked up the phone he had tossed there, and opened WeChat. He tapped on the pinned profile picture and sent a message to that delicate, pampered proprietress: *Asleep yet? Does it still hurt?*