Chapter 773:
Irritated and sore, Robin pushed himself up and shot Dylan a venomous glare. Dylan had stood there the whole time, watching with barely disguised amusement.
“Are you trying to kill me? Couldn’t you have reached out and helped me stop?” Robin demanded, fuming.
Dylan fixed Robin with an icy stare, his brows knitting ever so slightly. This man was a headache-inducing chatterbox.
“Well? Cat got your tongue?” Robin snapped. “You had plenty to say when you tricked me. What now?”
Dylan’s voice was flat, uninterested. “I have no obligation to help you up.” Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room.
Robin, bristling with rage, stomped after Dylan—only to watch Dylan gently shut the door behind him.
“You…” Robin started, but Dylan didn’t even glance his way. Dylan just walked off, silent and indifferent.
That cold dismissal only stoked Robin’s fury. With a growl, he chased after Dylan. “Are you seriously just going to ignore me? Dylan! Stop right there! Did you do something to Christina while I wasn’t around? No way you’d sink that low, right?” Dylan said nothing.
But Robin wasn’t the type to back off. “I heard rumors—you’re interested in men. So why are you hovering around her? What’s the matter? Lost your voice? Come on, Dylan—say something!”
Robin paused briefly, gathering more fuel for his tirade. “Don’t think that giving me the silent treatment will get you off the hook. As long as I’m here, I’m watching you. Every second. Don’t even think about pulling anything shady—”
Bang! Dylan slammed his room door shut, cutting Robin off mid-rant.
Robin barely stopped himself in time—one more step and his nose would’ve met wood. “Dylan! You didn’t even set up a room for me! Where am I supposed to sleep? This is how you treat your guests?” he shouted through the door.
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Inside his room, Dylan rubbed his temple, his head pounding like a war drum. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a chatterbox. Robin was like a one-man symphony of complaints. How had the Miller family endured him all these years?
Dylan couldn’t help but marvel at their endurance.
Eventually, Robin seemed to tire, and he quieted down.
Dylan exhaled in relief. If Robin went on and on, he would’ve called the driver himself—just to shove Robin straight back to Kitaso.
The next morning, as Christina opened her bedroom door, something toppled in her doorway with a dull thud. Still groggy, she nearly stepped right on it. Startled, she quickly retreated two steps. The last traces of sleep vanished in an instant.
“Huh? Morning already?” Robin muttered, squinting as sunlight pierced his half-open eyes. The light was a bit blinding for him, and he hadn’t noticed Christina staring at him.
Recognizing Robin, Christina let out an exasperated sigh and crouched beside him, giving his cheek a few light taps. “There are at least a dozen guest rooms in this place. What are you doing sleeping here? Have you completely lost it?”
Robin, still hovering between dream and reality, heard her voice and thought he must be imagining things. But once her face came into focus, he shot upright like a spring-loaded trap.
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.
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