I Married the President

Chapter 159: Chapter 159: Isn’t That Being a Hooligan?

Seeing this, Claire Sinclair finally understood. She couldn’t help but ask, ”Teacher Hartwell, do you know about my relationship with Mr. Quincy?”

Reporter Henry Hartwell: It’s obvious.

Claire: You have to help me keep this a secret!

Reporter Henry Hartwell: No problem.

Claire Sinclair was about to say something more when she suddenly heard a commotion outside. A car was pulling in!

Her heart tightened. She walked over to the window, parted the curtains, and looked out. A familiar car was parked outside—it was none other than Adrian Quincy’s private car.

’Why is that guy back?’

Claire Sinclair went to the door. Just as she opened it, the man appeared outside.

Adrian Quincy strode in, wrapped an arm around her slender waist, and lowered his head to peck her on the lips.

Her face flushing, Claire Sinclair slipped out of his embrace and took a step back. ”Mr. Quincy, why are you back?”

”I’m not busy tonight, so I came back to keep you company.”

”Oh...”

”Have you had dinner?”

”Mhm!” Claire Sinclair nodded immediately, afraid he would get angry if he found out she’d eaten instant noodles again.

Unfortunately, she had underestimated the man’s sense of smell.

As soon as he stepped inside, Adrian Quincy smelled instant noodles and frowned. ”You ate instant noodles?”

Claire Sinclair looked away guiltily and explained in a small voice, ”I was just too tired to cook today, so I bought some instant noodles to fill my stomach. But I only had a couple of bites before I couldn’t eat anymore. You can check the trash if you don’t believe me!”

Adrian Quincy raised a hand and tapped her on the head. ”Don’t let it happen again.”

With that, he headed for the kitchen.

After a moment’s hesitation, Claire Sinclair followed him. ”Mr. Quincy, I’d like to sleep separately tonight.”

Adrian Quincy paused and looked back at her. ”Why?”

”You’re, well... you’re too intense. I’m afraid I’ll be late for work again tomorrow.”

”Mhm.” Adrian Quincy nodded and, surprisingly, said nothing more.

’That guy... he agreed???’

Claire Sinclair was a little stunned by his easy compliance, and she breathed a sigh of relief. ’I should be safe tonight, right?’

Adrian Quincy cooked her some egg noodles. He made enough for two and ate with her.

Claire Sinclair was in a bad mood and ate the noodles distractedly, her mind preoccupied with how to bring up the matter of the contract termination fee.

’That contract was worth tens of millions. She didn’t know how much the termination fee would be. She hadn’t asked Ethan Kingsley yet, but it had to be at least a million, right?’

Adrian Quincy suddenly put down his chopsticks and asked in a deep voice, ”What are you thinking about?”

”Well... you know that contract I signed last night? I don’t want to do the shoot anymore, but the termination fee... I don’t know how much I’ll have to pay. I don’t know if the death benefit my sister left me will be enough to cover it.”

”If you don’t want to do it, then don’t. You don’t have to pay the termination fee either.”

”Isn’t that being a thug?”

Adrian Quincy’s cold eyes narrowed slightly, and a wicked curve played on his lips. ”As long as we make *them* the ones acting like thugs, you can even get a termination fee from them.”

Claire Sinclair: ”...”

’What terrifying cunning!’

”But how do you do that?”

”For the next month, they’ll probably be too busy dealing with a public relations crisis to find time for an ad shoot.”

”What do you mean?”

Adrian Quincy looked at the girl’s cute, clueless face and said in his deep voice, ”Claire, finish your noodles and go to bed early.”

”...” ’Fine, don’t tell me then.’

After they finished the noodles, Claire Sinclair wanted to clear the table herself, but the man shooed her out of the kitchen, telling her to go rest early.

Claire Sinclair couldn’t win the argument, so she obediently went upstairs.

When she came out after her shower and was about to lie down, she found someone already lying in the bed. She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. ”Mr. Quincy, didn’t we agree to sleep separately?”

”I won’t touch you tonight. Go to sleep.”

”...”

’Why did she find his words so hard to believe?’