Chapter 60:
Could Harlee really think she could ascend socially purely on the appeal of her looks? Dream on!
Regaining a semblance of composure, Lindsay turned back to Rhys, her voice tinged with a fearful respect.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Green, I was unaware. I’m here to bring you the medical report of your grandfather. I’ve done my homework and was just about to translate it for you.”
Rhys’ expression grew stern as he recalled Lindsay’s prior translation error that nearly led to a catastrophe. Nonetheless, recognizing her diligence in delivering the report, he decided to grant her one more opportunity.
“Take a seat in the back,” he instructed.
“Understood, Mr. Green,” Lindsay responded, her voice carrying a mix of nerves and respect.
She clutched the file folder tightly, worried he might revoke his leniency, and swiftly took her place in the back seat of the car.
“Miss Sanderson, if you would,” Rhys said, his tone smooth and refined as he held open the passenger door for Harlee.
With a slight nod, Harlee acknowledged his gesture and slid into the car.
This scene stung Lindsay deeply, sitting in the back and watching.
She couldn’t fathom what Harlee possessed, beyond her apparent beauty, that elevated her in Rhys’s esteem. Just how had Harlee managed to draw his attention so effectively?
Upon arriving at the restaurant, Lindsay positioned herself next to Rhys. She leaned toward him, her voice dripping with sweetness as she began translating the medical report, deliberately pushing her arms together to accentuate her cleavage, almost to the point of indecency.
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Yet, Rhys remained unmoved, his attention fixed solely on the content of the report, seemingly oblivious to her display.
Lindsay, noticing his lack of interest, slowed her translation, attempting to prolong the moment.
However, Rhys’ patience began to wane.
“Didn’t you say you were prepared? Why do you seem so unsure?” Rhys questioned, his tone cool as his eyes narrowed at Lindsay.
“I understand, Mr. Green. I’ll pick up the pace,” Lindsay replied hastily, hoping to regain his favor.
Her pulse quickened, her face fixed into a strained smile as she scribbled hurriedly with her pen.
“No need for that.” Rhys, ever impatient, grabbed the file from Lindsay’s hands.
Rhys glanced toward Harlee, who was seated a couple of seats away.
“Miss Sanderson, would you mind translating this report? It’s okay if you’d rather not.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Rhys winced, regretting his forwardness.
He really needed to stop imposing on Harlee.
“Well, since we’re just waiting for our meal, I don’t mind doing the translation,” Harlee responded nonchalantly, accepting the report.
She then picked up a pen.
In mere minutes, Harlee had translated the entire document seamlessly and returned it to Rhys.
Her script was bold and free, each stroke infused with a unique character.
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