In My Desperate Time

Chapter 72 What can a swallow know of the aims of a swan?

No!

I roar in my hear.

However, I can’t decide here.

Steven Song glances up at them and says, “as you like.”

Doesn't Steven Song see me winking at him? With his temper that desire to stir up trouble, I really doubt if he did it on purpose.

“Does Mr. Song have any comment on the products of this show?”

This woman talks about the show yesterday straight forward.

“No. There were several clothes yesterday, all of which are designed by Miss Jordan, right? Very nice.” Steven Song replies with a smile.

Miss Jordan?

And she is a famous designer.

There is only one person I know, Whitney Jordan. Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

Nicole Snow is well known nationally but also internationally. But there’s still a gap between her and Whitney Jordan's. Whitney Jordan comes from a very good family, with the excellent resources and the enviable conditions.

So sometimes, people need more than just talents. Some have won at the starting line.

“Yes. But the lady sitting next to you doesn't seem very pleased with my work.”

Then, Whitney Jordan's eyes fall on me.

I feel awkward.

It seems that the dress I commented yesterday is designed by Whitney Jordan. She didn't mess up with me yesterday, but she can't hold it today.

I'm a little nervous.

I look at Frances Louis, who is sitting there eating slowly, not caring what we are talking about.

This man is so mentally strong. I talk to his wife face to face, and he eats with a clear conscience.

I take a deep breath and smile at Whitney Jordan.

“I'm not saying Miss Jordan's works aren’t good, it's just that different people have different tastes, and I happen to like simple things.”

I don’t know if my explanation would make her satisfied.

She ponders for a moment. Her face looks not good. It takes a long time for her to relieve. Then she gives me a gentle smile.

“There is something in what you say. Here is my card. If you have any questions about my work, you can always come and tell me.” She hands me a card and, turning to Frances Louis, says, “Honey, let's eat at another table. What can a swallow know of the aims of a swan?”

My hands take her card and stop in the air awkwardly.

Whitney Jordan seems like a well-educated person. I never think she would say something like this. But it's not surprising, because the lady of a rich and powerful family is inevitably aloof and proud.

Frances Louis doesn’t stand up. He glances at me and says, “You cannot deny all just because you have different opinions. Perhaps, you have something in common.”

Frances Louis’s words make me nervous.

If there's one thing Whitney Jordan and I have in common, it's this man sitting across me.

“I don’t want to eat anymore. Enjoy.”

Whitney Jordan doesn’t buy it and leaves the dining room directly.

An already awkward atmosphere becomes even more awkward.

Frances Louis doesn’t care and continues to eat his breakfast.

I couldn't eat. All I could think about is what Whitney Jordan would do to me if my relationship with Frances Louis becomes public.

Steven Song has just finished breakfast when the organizers calls. They want him to go over and talk about something important.

He gives me an uneasy look and leaves.

“What do you want, Frances Louis?!” I look at him and whisper the words through my teeth.

“Nothing.” He lifts his eyes and wipes his mouth gracefully.

“Why don’t you tell me you have wife?” I wanted to ask him this question yesterday, but I couldn't find the right opportunity.

He stands up and goes out.

I look around, seeing no one notice us, and follow him up.

The second floor is near to the third floor, so he takes the stairs.

“I am asking you. Why have you never told me!” I ask again, following him.

Now I am very confused, also feel very embarrassed. I don't even know whether I am a mistress or a third woman. I am ruining Frances Louis’s family. I'm more despised than a mistress.

Frances Louis stops.

He turns around. There is a dangerous smell in his half-narrowed eyes that makes my breath not smooth.

“Jane Noyes, who are you to question me? Or are you jealous?”

Neither.

I want to answer, but I could not utter a word facing the dangerous gaze of Frances Louis.

“Jane Noyes, you are only a woman who wants something from me. You have no right to ask my business.”

Frances Louis's words, like a basin of cold water, pour over my whole body. He always spoils me, which makes me almost forget that I just a tool to warm his bed.

The heart tingles slightly.

I bite my lip and say cunningly to Frances Louis, “I know. I just think you should at least give me some mental preparation, or I don't know have to face your wife.”

“Do your own job. Ignore her.”

Frances Louis says lightly and goes back to his room.

As soon as he goes in, a vase is thrown out of the door, which hits me right on the forehead.