Resent, Reject, Regret

Chapter 886

Chapter 886 We’ll Join The Event

“No, I did not. My only evidence is what I heard from my mom. She said when a woman’s pregnant with a girl, their skin starts to glow and become smoother than ever. It’s happening to you.”

Deirdre instinctively rubbed her face and felt none of that. “You’re making it up. I feel no difference!” ‘That’s because you can’t see it.” Brendan teased her, smiling. “Or… maybe my eyes have the lover filter on.” Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Deirdre turned her attention back to her soup as the rest of her body erupted into flustered flame.

It was then that Sam rushed inside. Seeing the couple having their meal, he looked down and greeted them. “Good morning, Mr. Brighthall. Miss McKinnon.”

Brendan took a sip of the soup. “What?” ‘Those old farts in the company are hosting an event tonight. They’re going to promote Desmond Griffin as the acting CEO!” Sam answered, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, is that so?” Brendan’s eyes darkened. ‘They’re moving fast.” “H*ll, I bet they planned this to happen! I’m sure they would have with or without the hospital incident!”

“Alright, then.” Brendan rubbed his hand with a napkin slowly. “Dee? Suit up.”

Deirdre was perplexed. “Uh, what?”

“You’re coming with me to the event.”

Her mind blanked. She snapped out of her trance and rejected him immediately. “Are you out of your mind!?”

He was going to bring a murder suspect to the event!

“No. I’m not,” Brendan answered placidly. “Everything that is happening is because of us, right? We’re the main characters. We deserve to show up in an event we helped make.” “But the police!’

He rose and clapped her on the shoulder. ‘They won’t be bothering you anymore.” It was 3:00 p.m. when the stylists came. Their arrival showed Deirdre that Brendan was being serious.

They brought a lot of gowns with them, too. In the end, Deirdre chose a turquoise gown with hem draping across the carpet. Putting it on made her look elegant and graceful, and her skin as radiant and soft as fresh snow.

The cosmetic artist used only a little makeup to make Deirdre look sprier, yet the effect shocked all of them. She was so impossibly gorgeous that the artist had to praise her. “You are so insanely beautiful, Miss McKinnon! No wonder Mr. Brighthall’s head-over-heels with you. Even I’m going to have a crush on you with beauty like that!”

Deirdre’s eyebrows were perfectly arched. Her features were delicate. Her widow’s peaks made her elegance and mystique shine. Her damaged eyes were milky, yet all it did was imbue her with the vulnerable air of a mysterious but beautiful waif.

Everyone would look at her and feel the compulsion to protect her!

Deirdre simply reacted with a simple smile. Stylists were notorious for heaping compliments aimed at their clients’ hearts, after all. But most of her attention was elsewhere.

She could not understand Brendan. She could see why he would want to crash the event-they were throwing one in his absence, and so he attended it out of bitter wrath. But why bring her along?

Could it be because he was just that proud of a man? He hated it when someone defied him, so he deliberately brought a murder suspect with him so he could wreck their event as hard as he could?

Maximizing their humiliation? i

Deirdre felt as if she was onto something.

Brendan changed into a suit tailored for his frame. When he got out, the stylists cooed and crooned, yet all he was seeing was the woman in front of the mirror. He could not move his eyes away from her.

Deirdre could feel his burning gaze and thinned her lips.

He stepped forward, lowered his head, and kissed the back of her hand. It was an act of submission.