My One-month Marriage With Mr. Hawkins

Florence’s heart hammered as if it would jump out from her chest.

If she continued staying on his lap, she would be on fire.

She tried her best to tilt her head. “Excuse me, Mr. Hawkins. It’s quite late now. If you are not in a hurry, you can deal with those documents tomorrow.”

Then tomorrow it would be Timothy who helped him turn the pages.

Seeing through Florence’s mind, Ernest answered calmly, “They are all urgent.”

Florence was rendered speechless.

If he had so many urgent documents to deal with, why did he go to have the crayfish with her in the evening? They didn’t get full while it was a waste of time.

Florence felt angry but she dared not speak it out. She could only sit on Ernest’s lap and turn the pages for him after a certain estimated period.

However, she didn’t know that Ernest didn’t take a look at the document at all. His gaze was glued on her face, deep and affectionate.

Florence kept turning the pages for Ernest. Since the content was way too boring, shortly, she started dozing off, her head nodding.

“Bang.”

Her head suddenly fell toward the desk.

Ernest acted pretty quickly. He placed his thick palm on the desk and held her forehead.

Then, he held her waist and let her nestle in his arms.

Pressing her head on Ernest’s shoulder, Florence rubbed like a kitten. After finding a comfortable position, she continued to sleep.

Ernest stared at the woman in his arms, his eyes darkened.

How he wished that she could always stay in his arms so obediently...

He lowered his head, his thin lips pecked on her forehead. Then he carried her in his arms softly, walking to the big bed.

...

When Florence opened her eyes, she found a tough problem -- she was sleeping on Ernest’s bed again.

Her heart was tightened. Subconsciously, she looked aside.

It was empty beside her except for a pillow. She heaved a breath of relief. When she was about to get up, she touched the temperature left on the bed sheet beside her.

Ernest had just got up not

were sleeping on the same bed again

to

thinking about

rang out at the door. Ernest was in a suit without a tie, emanating a sense of

frame, he said in a seductive tone, “How about I go back and sleep with you

necessarily!” Florence refused

not thinking about last

Ernest. Lifting the quilt,

out, only to find Ernest was standing in the room

passed the tie

was confused. “What are you

me,” Ernest uttered a few works

at Ernest up and

she said, “Well... since you could dress up in a suit, you should tie the necktie

wear the clothes with one hand. Have you seen anyone tie the necktie

“I’ve never tied a necktie for

Ernest

her head and put it on

said in a deep and

up a fire burning through

withdrew her hand in a

please don’t move. I’ll tie it

so she knew how to tie a necktie. After a long while, she finally

down to check his tie, a

stressing each syllable, “You need to practice more

Did he mean that she would

she thought of this, Florence felt as if there was an explosion in her brain. Her

dared not to overthink,

her to stay with Ernest every second and every

at Florence’s fluctuate back, his lips curled up

strode after

the dishes in the dining room not far away and there were two pairs of bowls and tableware

hand was injured? How could he prepare the

explained naturally as if he had

to Florence and reached out to

“... Okay.”

pulled her hand

recently -- he always