“Shh!”
Dotson became nervous at once. He turned around and found that no one followed him out. Then he warned the man, “Don’t ask what you shouldn’t ask. Just pretend like you know nothing about him. Now, go on with your tasks. I need to get some clothes for the boss.”
“Okay. Seeing the serious look on Dotson’s face, the man gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Take care.”
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Dotson maintained his composure and responded, “Okay.”
By the time Dotson returned with the clothes, Hannah and Bryson had finished playing a game.
“Boss, I’ve brought the clothes. They’re brand new. They should fit Mr. Mitchell perfectly.”
Hannah, without looking up, instructed Bryson, “Try these on.”
“Okay.”
Dotson approached and handed the clothes over to Bryson. As Bryson walked into a room to change, Dotson let out a relieved sigh.
Sensing something was wrong with Dotson, Hannah looked up at him and asked, “Why do I get the feeling you’re a bit scared of him?”
“I… I am not.”
Dotson looked away subconsciously and didn’t dare to look into Hannah’s eyes.
Catching this subtle reaction, Hannah found it amusing. “I can’t believe the fearless Dotson is actually scared of someone.”
Dotson remembered a night when Bryson had swiftly ascended the stairs and managed to kidnap someone from a dangerous situation without any harm.
Dotson couldn’t resist remarking about Bryson, “He’s exceptional.”
Hannah laughed heartily at the comment. “Yes.”
She nodded in agreement. “You’re absolutely right. He’s definitely not Like a normal person.”
“Then what am I like?”
Bryson’s voice suddenly interrupted them from nearby, prompting Hannah and Dotson to turn around.
Bryson appeared in a plain white T-shirt and black sports pants, which accentuated the length of his legs. His hair, neatly styled before, now casually fell across his forehead, softening his usual sharp demeanor.
Bryson looked like a college student who hadn’t graduated yet. This scene had a huge impact on the heart of Dotson.
Holding a black sports jacket casually over one arm, Bryson walked over to the sofa with a laid-back stride. He squinted at Hannah, leaning one hand against the back of the sofa. “Miss Moore, what exactly is so unusual about me?”
Bryson had overheard Hannah’s earlier comments.
Without missing a beat, Hannah acted clueless, grabbed two large bags from the coffee table, and headed toward the dining room. “I need to start cooking. Please, stay out of my way.”