How should she answer that?
Julian Fairchild leisurely awaited a reply from Maeve Lane.
Teasing Maeve was just... too much fun.
A few minutes passed, and the phone chimed.
[Perhaps, I can only fake a smile and pretend to be composed.jpg]
The man smiled slightly, the amusement in his eyes was gentle but sincere.
Henry Hughes walked in from outside and saw Julian Fairchild with a bright smile on his face, the iciness in his gaze melting away.
He gripped the door handle, his expression natural, "Chatting with her?"
The smile on Julian Fairchild's lips quickly faded, and he straightened up slightly, "It's none of your business."
"How is it none of my business," Henry Hughes disregarded Julian's hostile glare, "Maeve and I are friends, after all. We have a reasonably close relationship, don't we?"
His tone was rather conciliatory.
Julian Fairchild wasn't having it, and sneered, "We don't have any relationship... I haven't even settled our last scores."
