The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet

Chapter 212

Thalassa stood in front of a black Rolls Royce, its polished surface still gleaming with a luxurious sheen

, even in the absence of light.

She did a lap around the car and noticed a punctured tire. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

The tire was flat causing one side of the car to sit lower than the other.

Crouching down, Thalassa inspected

the tire closely. Near the ground, she spotted a silver needle embedded in the rubber.

That was the culprit that punctured the tire.

She reached out to grasp the end of the needle, pulling with all her might to yank it out.

But the needle was lodged deeply, and despite her efforts, it wouldn’t budge.

Perhaps it was because she couldn’t muster enough strength while crouching that she stood up, bent o

ver, and gave it her all, gripping the end of the needle.

One, two, three!

“Whoosh!”

The needle finally came out. As the needle was freed from the tire, her body, due to the excessive force

, toppled backward.

She braced herself for a painful butt–landing.

But suddenly, she crashed into a solid, wide, lean, and strong embrace.

She hit the man’s chest with such force that it would’ve knocked an average person off his feet.

But this man was strong, extremely steady, tall with powerful legs, and had a tremendous sense of stab

ility.

He didn’t even flinch, instead, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest.

In his strong masculine presence and his cold, intimidating aura, Thalassa hurriedly apologized, “I’m so

rry, I didn’t mean to.”

In her panicked gaze, she saw his chiseled face, his deep–set features, and his star–like eyes–

handsome and profound.

Thalassa’s speech faltered, her heart skipped a beat. “Holy cow, it’s Lysander!”

She quickly moved out of his embrace, nervously saying, “Mr. Sinclair, what a coincidence.”

Lysander took a step towards her, his gaze intense and shadowed.

Thalassa felt overwhelmed by his powerful aura, nearly breathless.

His towering figure loomed over her, stepping closer and closer. Thalassa retreated in fear. Realizing s

he was still holding the needle, she quickly hid it behind her, putting up a nervous smile towards Lysand

er.

Soon, her back hit the car, and she was cornered with nowhere to go. Lysander leaned against the car, trapping her between his chest and the vehicle.

He leaned in, his hot breath getting closer and closer.

His strong, masculine scent enveloped

her, a scent so familiar to her from a stormy night five years ago, when this scent had once entangled h

er.

Thalassa’s heart pounded like crazy, his lips were getting closer, and she nervously turned her face aw

ay.

But Lysander just missed her lips, whispering in her ear with his deep, magnetic voice, “You seem quite

interested in my car.”

His heavy breath tickled her sensitive ear, causing her to shrink her neck. She hastily explained, “No, it’

s not like that, Mr. Sinclair, you’re misunderstanding and I’m not interested in your car.”

“So you’re interested in me?” Lysander’s deep voice held a hint of huskiness.

His implicit and mysterious words made Thalassa’s heart race and her cheeks involuntarily flush.

Just as she was about

to say something. Lysander cut her off, and his commanding voice echoed again: “Come to my office in

ten minutes.”

With that, he released his hold on her and stepped into the elevator.

Watching his retreating figure. Thalassa clutched her racing heart, trying to calm herself down.

*

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