Seize His Little Wife

Christine White craned her head towards the man on stage, her heart beating fast and unable to stop, both nervous and apprehensive.

Baird Lane glanced at her faintly before turning his attention to Assistant Gates.

Assistant Gates’s back was chilled by his obscure eyes, but he still inquired stiffly, “President Lane, Secretary White drew you, you see …”

“Ives Norton put you up to this?” Baird Lane narrowed his eyes, his voice cold as ice.

He had said that he was not allowed to add his name to the list.

But his name still came up, obviously someone did it on purpose.

And in the entire welcome party, only Ives Norton could order Gates around except for him.

Seeing that Baird Lane had guessed the truth, Assistant Gates hung his head and could only admit, “Dr. Norton did have me do it.”

“He’s really got nothing better to do!” Baird Lane’s thin lips pursed.

Assistant Gates rubbed his nose and cast a furtive glance in Christine White’s direction, “So President Lane, what to do now, Ms. White she’s waiting, she’ll be humiliated if you don’t dance with her.”

“If you knew that, why didn’t you think about the consequences when you did it in the first place.” Baird Lane blushed a little.

“I’m sorry President Lane, I know it’s wrong.” Assistant Gates buried his head even lower.

“You’re docked a month’s bonus, and the next time you make a similar mistake, you’re just outta here!”

“It’s …” Assistant Gates accepted the punishment with a serious expression, while mentally cursing Ives Norton to death.

“All right, you keep presiding.” Baird Lane threw out a cold face and lifted his feet onto the auditorium.

Christine White watched as he took a step toward her, a crisp footstep that sounded like it was stepping on her heart.

She held her breath and called out to him, “President Lane…”

Baird Lane held out his hand toward her, “Come on.”

“Go … where?” Christine White looked at his hand, a little afraid to put it there.

“Isn’t it a dance, or don’t you want to?” Baird Lane’s eyes looked at her askance with clear coldness.

“I do.” Christine White’s eyes glowed and she hastily put her hand up.

Her hands were cold and a little wet.

“You’re sweating?” Baird Lane frowned.

Hearing the disgust in his tone, Christine White nodded awkwardly, “Why don’t I go wash my hands.”

She wasn’t sure if he would dance with her, so she was always nervous.

And every time she gets nervous, her palms get sweaty.

“No, I’ll wash after the dance!” Baird Lane took her by the hand and, expressionless, descended the auditorium towards the center of the venue, and wherever they went, the crowd automatically parted to either side to make way for them to have a wider field.

The music plays and Baird Lane moves with Christine White.

At some point the crowd around them stood in a circle again, surrounding them and watching them dance.

Under such circumstances, Christine White’s whole body was tense, completely unable to let go, and the dance was very stiff, not only not graceful, but also stepped on Baird Lane’s feet several times.

Baird Lane’s temples jutted, his face dark as ink, and he lowered his voice to question, “Christine White what’s the matter with you, didn’t the etiquette teacher teach you to dance?”

“Taught …” Christine White blushed, not daring to look at him at all.

She knew how humiliated she was now, and the crowd of onlookers were probably laughing at her.

“You were taught and you still dance like this?” Baird Lane’s handsome face sank.

Christine White bowed her head sensibly, her voice so small it was barely audible, “Teachers didn’t teach for long in the first place.”

“That’s no excuse.” Baird Lane took her for a spin, his brow colder, “I asked you if you’ve practiced yourself.”

“I …” Christine White trailed off.

Baird Lane sneered, “It seems that there are none, it’s a good thing the outside world doesn’t know you’re the Young Lady of The Lane Family, or else you’d really be pulling down The Lane Family’s rank.”

Christine White’s body shook slightly, her bright eyes suddenly dimmed, her heart aggravated and sad.

So that’s what he thinks of her, that she’s a wife who can’t get it up.

Maybe Debby York is right and his wife should be the kind of woman who is as perfect as he is.

Like her, she’d just be a drag on him.

Christine White bit her lip, the tip of her nose a little sore, and the rhythm of the dance slowed down, and the moves after that simply went wrong more often than not, and the dance was a mess.

Baird Lane tried to bring her back on the beat when he realized she was making a mistake, but she just wasn’t getting the hang of it, and after bringing her back a few times, she gradually gave up and forced herself to dance the rest of the dance with what little patience she had left.

As soon as the dance was over, he immediately released her, then took the decorative handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the sweat she had left on his hand, “Alright, it’s late, I’ll have someone take you back.”

“Good.” Christine White tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Baird Lane put away his handkerchief and stopped looking at her and turned away from the meeting and went to the rest room.

Ives Norton, who was playing a game, saw him return and gave him a squeeze, “Finished dancing so soon?”

Baird Lane ignored him and sulked into the restroom.

Ives Norton shrugged his shoulders and didn’t care, turning his attention back to his cell phone, “Come on, come on, find cover find cover, there’s snipers on the other side …”

Just as he was typing in the heat of the moment, Baird Lane came out from washing his hands and snatched his cell phone straight away and threw it on the coffee table, “Tell me, why did you instruct Gates to arrange this plan?”

“You know all about it?” Ives Norton raised an eyebrow.

Baird Lane sat down across from him, his eyes blazing like knives.

“Well I’ll say, there’s not much else to it, I’m doing this for you.” Ives Norton hung back and crossed his legs.

Baird Lane grunted, “For me?”

“Yeah, think about it, Christine White is your wife, would you be okay if she danced with another man?”

Baird Lane was slightly startled, frowning tightly as he thought hard about the image.

And then realized that I couldn’t really accept it.

“Look at you, I got it right didn’t I.” Ives Norton took the phone back and put it in his pocket, “So yeah, you should be thanking me.”

Baird Lane pursed his lips, “Okay, why don’t you go back to the hospital?”

“I was waiting for you.” Ives Norton pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up on the bridge of his nose and his expression became serious, “Seriously, did you tell Christine White about the bone marrow or not?”

“Said.”

“And what does she mean? Promise?”

Baird Lane rubbed his brow, “No, she said to think about it.”

“Thinking about …” Ives Norton rubbed his chin, “How long is that going to take, Molly Bort’s place can’t really wait any longer, The Bort Family over there were still at noon today asking me how the surgery hasn’t gone ahead yet.”

“What’s the best time for the first surgery?” Baird Lane asked, narrowing his eyes.

Ives Norton held out a slap on the wrist, “Preferably no more than five days; the sooner we do the first surgery, the better her white blood cell count will be controlled and the more successful the second surgery will be.”

“I know, go back to the hospital and I’ll talk to Christine White after the welcome party.”

If he had said so, Ives Norton naturally had no problem with it and straightened his clothes and stood up, “Alright, then I’ll leave first.”

“Uh-huh.”

…

It was eleven o’clock at night after the welcome party.

Baird Lane returns to the cottage to find the cottage lights still on and the sound of a television faintly coming from the living room.

It’s late and she’s still up?

Baird Lane finished changing his shoes and walked into the living room to see that what he thought was Christine White watching TV in the living room was Aunt Lucy.

“You’re back, sir?” Aunt Lucy looked a little surprised to see him.

Baird Lane set his briefcase down, “Why isn’t Aunt Lucy resting?”

“When you get older and can’t sleep, you simply get up and watch some TV.” Aunt Lucy smiled back.

Baird Lane’s eyes scanned the living room, “Where’s Christine White?”C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.