I was done with the back-and-forth and ready to shut the door, but before I could, Clayton stopped it with his hand.
He kept that condescending look, "You're spouting this weird stuff just to get my attention, aren't you?"
I was rendered speechless.
People used to bind feet, now it seemed like he had his brain all tied up.
I suppressed the urge to throw up last night's dinner and coldly told Clayton, "You're reading way too much into it. Even if you were the last love-sick CEO on earth, I wouldn't take you even if for free."
"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt."
Clayton, having been the golden boy all his life, oozed arrogance. He waved his bodyguards away and strode into my apartment with his long legs swaggering.
With our physical mismatch, I couldn't stop him, and I braced myself, "What are you doing?"
Considering Clayton was the typical old-school romantic lead—deep in abusive love with the female lead, often drawing blood or taking organs for his angel.
It was terrifying to think he might fancy some part of me too!
The living room was a mess, with a dozen packing bags strewn around. Clayton's gaze swept over them, and then suddenly, he looked up, "Are you moving out?"
I nodded, "Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't want to be harassed."
I was fuming, ready to bash Clayton's head in.
If it weren't for his insane routine of busting my door every now and then, would I even be forced to move? He should cover my moving costs!
"Harassed?"
Clayton looked at me intently, a sarcastic smile briefly crossing his face, "I've seen plenty of women like you, trying to get my attention with these antics, huh?"
A shiver ran through me, and mimicking Clayton's tone, I snapped back, "Mr. Blackwood, narcissism is a disease, too."
Thinking everyone's head over heels for you, huh? Well, I'm a dignified heir of capitalism, not swayed by your sweet nothings!
At my words, Clayton's gaze turned icy and threatening.
He advanced step by step, pinning me against the wall before stopping, his voice through gritted teeth, "What did you say?"
I was in trouble!
Regret washed over me as I realized Clayton wasn't just a scoundrel but also deeply paranoid. Once he believed something, nobody could convince him otherwise.
His conviction that Eleanor was a manipulative woman who had orchestrated his breakup with his old flame was his twisted form of romance to keep her close and torment her relentlessly.