You Were Smoking?
The room was unusually cold, too. Someone had opened the window, or the stench would have been
even starker. Deirdre was silent for a bit before she asked, ‘You were smoking?”
"Mm." Brendan coughed and cleared his throat. Once his voice regained clarity, he ordered, "The
clothes are on your bed. Change into them. We should get going."
There was no stylist with them. After changing into her getup, Deirdre let her hair free, where it dangled
around her shoulders. Before stepping outside, she put on some lipstick on her lips to look a little more
alive.
Brendan stared at her. "Did you put on lipstick?”
"Yes." She brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and dodged his gaze. "I can't possibly see them
without makeup, but I don't know what else to do. Why? Something wrong?”
“Everything's wrong,” he replied brusquely. Stepping forward, he pressed his finger on her supple lips
and wiped her effort away.
"You did a crappy job."
Deirdre was not at all offended. "Sorry. I was literally doing it blindly."
Brendan cast his eyes to the floor. "Give me your lipstick."
She passed it to him, and the man began to work. He cupped her chin and tipped it higher before
grazing her lips with its rouge tip. Steadily, he worked with the precision of a surgeon until a gradient of
red materialized.
The intensity in his gaze was starting to send shivers down Deirdre's spine. It was only when his phone
rang that she had the opening to move, opting to cast her unseeing eyes down to the floor frantically.
"Are you done?"
Brendan stopped. ‘Yes. Let's go."
The call came from Wynne, who had been waiting for them downstairs. Seeing Brendan and Deirdre,
he eagerly stepped forward and greeted them. "Mr. Brigthall! Miss McKinnon! I'm Mr. Cillian King's
assistant, Wynne. The weather's too cold to stay out here for long. Please come inside.”
Brendan helped Deirdre into the car and took his seat. Wynne started the engine and added, "Sorry for
keeping the two of you waiting. Traffic is terrible today.”
"We've only just gotten ready," Brendan replied nonchalantly. After watching the road the car took for a
while, he asked, "Aren't we heading to Southmont?"
"The family doesn't stay there anymore, sir. Mrs. King said the family should stay somewhere new and
fresh, so they bought a new place in the city."
"I'm sorry?"
Wynne forwent details. "She believed a house that old would only be haunted sooner or later."
Brendan nodded, but he knew it ran much deeper than that. An old mansion was the pride of many
long-standing elite families, a symbol of their longevity and history. The real reason Mrs. King insisted it
must be haunted was that the death of Declan's mother haunted her. She needed this change of
location.
The house was not too far from the hotel Brendan and Deirdre were staying at. Half an hour later, they
arrived at their destination. Even before Brendan got out of the car, Laura was already waiting by the
door with a face brimming with smiles.
"Welcome, welcome! Gillian's upstairs, choosing our wine for the day. Welcome to our home, Mr.
Brighthall, Miss McKinnon!"
Her hands were sore from the nipping air. When Deirdre got out of the car, the young woman reached
out to hold her, and the former immediately shuddered at the temperature.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Laura apologized and pulled her hand back. Deirdre shook her head.
"You've been waiting out here for a while now, haven't you? Aren't you cold?"
Laura smiled. "Oh, it wasn't that long!"
It had to be at least ten minutes, and Cillian had left his wife in the cold while he himself enjoyed the
warmth of his abode. The callousness of it all pressed against Deirdre's chest and stoked a small fire in
her. Brendan would not have done something like that, even in the past.
The three of them walked side-by-side as they made their way to the entrance. Brendan could not help
but notice a barren patch at the right side of the fountain, which clashed with the surrounding area.
"Was something planted there?”
Laura froze. She turned to see if Wynne followed them. When she saw he was not, she answered, "It
used to be a bed of roses.”
Brendan fell silent. It was Deirdre who continued the conversation out of curiosity, "What happened to
the roses?"
About Resent, Reject, Regret - Chapter 608
Resent, Reject, Regret is the best current series of the author Hauling Treasures. With the below
Chapter 608 content will make us lost in the world of love and hatred interchangeably, despite all
the tricks to achieve the goal without any concern for the other half, and then regret. late. Please
read chapter Chapter 608 and update the next chapters of this series at novelebook.com
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