NovelApp"I'll be waiting at home for you." Romeo didn't put up a fight, going along with Arabella's plans.
"You can't sneakily follow me or send anyone to guard me." Arabella seemed to see right through him: "Don't think I don't know what you're up to." Romeo didn't expect Arabella to be so sharp, seeing through his plans in a heartbeat.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtHe pulled Arabella into his arms, looking into her eyes and asking, "Are you forbidding anyone from following you because you're in danger? Are you worried | might get caught up in it? Are you worried about me?" Before Arabella could even answer, Romeo asked again, "Who's the other party?" "I have no idea yet, but they've asked for discretion.” Arabella was trying to reason with Romeo: “If they find out | went back on my word and brought a bunch of bodyguards and you, will | have any business left?" Romeo kissed her, amazed by how articulate Arabella was.
He turned around and fetched a black hairpin, pinning it to her hair.
"This is the latest tracker. If you stay still for too long or if your location is off, I'm coming for you." Arabella didn't expect him to have such a thing. A seemingly ordinary hairpin turned out to be a tracker.
"I had it specially developed." Romeo saw her confusion and explained, "All for your safety." "Guess | should thank you then." Arabella stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking at his worried face, and chuckled, "Don't worry, I'll be back soon. I'll be fine." "| sure hope so." Romeo pressed his forehead to hers, kissed her lips, and watched her leave. He felt a tinge of sadness, as if something was missing.
As agreed, Arabella arrived at an old warehouse on the outskirts of Summerfield ten minutes early.
There were about a dozen bodyguards stationed outside the warehouse. Seeing a young girl getting out of the car, they were all a bit puzzled.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm"I'm here to deliver the painting." Arabella walked up to the head bodyguard and calmly said, The head bodyguard looked her up and down and said, "Sorry, you can go tell Mirabelle that our boss wants to see her in person." "Il am Mirabelle." The head bodyguard took another look at this young girl. Impossible.
The master of Oriental ink painting, known as Mirabelle, was actually just an eighteen-year-old girl? Who in their right mind would believe that? "Sorry, I'm not joking." The head bodyguard seriously said.
"Neither am I. It's the truth." Seeing the serious look on Arabella's face, not like she was joking, the head bodyguard was half convinced and went in to report to his boss.
After a while, he came out and invited her in, saying, "Please come in." Just as Arabella was about to enter the warehouse with the painting, the head bodyguard suddenly put out a hand to stop her. "Sorry, please take off the hairpin." Arabella: Was she busted so soon? "It's safe inside." Seeing that Arabella wasn't making a move, the head bodyguard explained, "Our boss won't do anything to you." "If he won't do anything to me, then whether | wear this hairpin or not shouldn't make a difference." "Our boss doesn't want his whereabouts known by others. We're very sorry and hope you can understand." Seeing no malice in his words, Arabella took off the hairpin and handed it to him. The head bodyguard accepted it and made a respectful invitation gesture: "Please, this way." Arabella entered the warehouse. The place was spacious and bright. There was only a large desk in the middle of the warehouse with brushes, ink, paper, and ink stones. There was no one around, but Arabella still spotted several cameras, some facing the desk, some facing her.
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