"What did the manager say? Did he tell you about her?" Nicolas asked, his gaze locked on Robin's face.
"Yes, boss. Her name is Cindy White. She comes from a poor home, and her mother is mentally ill, while her father doesn't care about her," Robin explained what the manager had told him to his boss.
"It's fine. Let's go home. I don't want to keep Grandpa waiting," Nicolas said, his voice calming as Robin hopped into the car and settled into the second front seat. The driver started the engine and sped off toward the Sullivan mansion.
Nicolas's heart still churned with unease, but he tried not to dwell too deeply on Cindy. After all, she seemed desperate, and she might have had ulterior motives for kissing him like that.
'But her lips…' Nicolas thought about those soft cherry lips claiming his firm ones. He shut his eyes, trying to recall how heavenly her lips had tasted. He reclined against the car seat, draping his right arm over the armrest of the plush Maybach.
His body tensed as a primal desire to sleep with her surged through his veins. But he knew that wouldn't happen. He was getting married, and his wife should satisfy him fully.
For years, Nicolas had dodged scandals about himself, believing they served as a man's shortcut to downfall.
The sunny breeze whipped across his face as he rolled down the car window. Soon, the Sullivan mansion loomed into view as the driver steered through the black gate, guarded by burly bodyguards.
The security men saluted them upon arrival while the car cruised in and parked on the magnificent residential grounds.
The back door swung open, and Nicolas stepped out of the car, standing tall and radiating masculine charm.
Though Nicolas commanded vast wealth, he had grown up with his grandfather and still resided in the old mansion. Adjusting his suit—he had just returned from his company before deciding to lunch with Aaron—he strode purposefully toward the mansion ahead. When he entered, the maids greeted him warmly, but he spared no one a glance.
Grandpa Daniel perched on the living room couch, his features radiating authority despite his advanced age.
"Good evening, Grandpa," Nicolas greeted with a smile, his lips curving upward as he approached his grandfather. He still acted like a child, even at 30.
"Nicolas, I thought you didn't want to return home again," Grandpa Daniel remarked, closing the magazine he had been reading. His lips curled into a smile as he peered at his grandson's face. Though he had other grandchildren, they belonged to his two daughters and didn't bear his surname, so he prioritized caring for Nicolas, who helmed the Sullivan Group.
Taking a seat next to his grandpa, Nicolas raked a hand through his hair, trying to shake off any lingering feelings about that unknown woman from his heart.
"Grandpa, why wouldn't I return home? I've been busy sealing international deals to expand our company abroad, into other foreign and African countries," Nicolas replied, his voice cool yet carrying sincere gravity.
"That's fine," Grandpa Daniel replied with a smile. "You arrived just in time. The Paulson family has agreed to the marriage. So I want you to go welcome your bride and register your marriage with her."
With a thoughtful look, Grandpa Daniel added, "This house has been too silent for too long without the presence of children. All your cousins are growing up, and I need an heir to succeed you. With your aversion to women, I'm sure you'd prefer to stay single for the rest of your life."
"Hahaha," Nicolas laughed, his hearty sound drawing the attention of the young maids who admired him, though they knew attempting to seduce him would cost them their jobs. The Sullivan heir wasn't like other wealthy scions and CEOs in Brooklyn City, who lusted after various women and lacked self-control.
Nicolas embodied control, refinement, and honor. He boasted no scandalous records, leaving women to pine for his glance. But he remained business-oriented, laser-focused on his personal goals with no time to spare for pleasure.
"What's so funny about what I said?" Grandpa Daniel asked, his voice gentle and infused with years of maturity.
"Grandpa," Nicolas smiled and asked, "Who told you I don't like women? That's just gossip and rumors about me. And I'm okay with the gossips, as long as it keeps women from targeting me. It only becomes a problem when I'm the center of all women's attention."
Nicolas licked his lips, trying to savor the lingering taste of the young woman who had dared to kiss him. He wished he had met her before Grandpa Daniel arranged a bride for him.
"Then why haven't you brought a bride home? Why put your old man through the hassle of finding a wife for you?" Grandpa queried, feigning annoyance.
Rising to his feet—since Nicolas always preferred to stay clean—he chuckled and said, "Grandpa, it's easier finding a wife through your scope. At least, not every woman would want to marry an old man."
"What do you mean? I can still perform in bed!" Grandpa Daniel growled at his stubborn grandson, fury flashing in his eyes. He sensed Nicolas was in a good mood, which he attributed to the new company's launch in foreign countries. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched Nicolas climb the stairs.
"Grandpa, I know you're handsome and agile. But if I were the one broadcasted in search of a wife, several women would line up here wanting to marry me," Nicolas said, his voice calm but sincere.
"You're right. Go bathe; I'll wait for you to join me for dinner before calling the Paulson family to inform them that you're the one marrying their daughter, not me," he replied, glancing away from his grandson.
Despite his old age, Grandpa Daniel remained sharp, capable, and calculating. He had once served as CEO of the Sullivan Group in Brooklyn City before his late son, Ares Sullivan, took the reins.
Pondering his grandpa's offer, Nicolas strode back to meet his grandfather and sat beside him.
"What's this? Have you changed your mind now?" Grandpa Daniel asked, his gaze sharp and steady as he peered at Nicolas's face.
"No," Nicolas chuckled and replied, "I just want to see what the bride looks like. You know I won't reject anyone you chose for me. But what if she's some ugly woman?"
Nicolas's gaze darkened, and Grandpa Daniel appeared thoughtful.
"You're right. I'll request they send her photos now. Let me call them so we can clarify things." He beckoned his assistant, who stood guard nearby, to bring his phone.
Once the phone landed in Grandpa Daniel's hand, he dialed the Paulson mansion, calling Mr. Paulson.
Silently and hopefully, Nicolas wished the bride would turn out ugly so he could pursue Cindy—he couldn't pry her from his mind. Her sorrowful face troubled him, and he craved an excuse to search for her, feeling guilty for not offering help when she was in danger.
Of what use was his wealth if he couldn't aid a woman—or anyone—in need at a dire time? What if those men were kidnappers? What if they were traffickers? What if he'd never see her again?
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he waited for Grandpa Daniel's call to connect.