Lingering Doting Marriage: Big Boss, Little Sweet Heart

Chapter 3120: Chapter 3209: I Only Trust That You Don’t Want to Die

”Think carefully.” Baron Lawrence said, not rushing him to make a decision.

Paris Arden-Nicholson looked as if his world had collapsed, yet he had to force himself to say, ”I have thought it over.”

Baron Lawrence took out his phone and sent a message to Scott Harris. Shortly afterwards, Scott Harris stepped down from a Land Rover at the intersection and walked over briskly while bowing respectfully, ”Lord.”

”Give him the item.” Baron Lawrence’s eagle-like eyes casually flicked, his proud and handsome face was suffocating.

Scott Harris took a small bottle from his pocket and placed it on Paris Arden-Nicholson’s table, then stepped aside.

Paris Arden-Nicholson stared curiously at the bottle, observing it for a few seconds, then picked it up and couldn’t help asking, ”What is this? A drink?”

”Poison.” Simple and crude enough!

Before Paris Arden-Nicholson could throw the bottle away, he heard Baron Lawrence order forcefully, ”Drink it!”

His face looked as if he had been punched, with vivid colors cascading dramatically. It took him a while to force his stiff features into an incredulous expression, ”Drink it? Are you kidding me?!”

He hastily pushed the bottle away, ”You said it’s poison. I’d be out of my mind to drink it.”

He’s not idle enough to drink dichlorvos for fun.

”I asked you to think it over.” Baron Lawrence didn’t take his resistance to heart, casually reminding him.

Paris Arden-Nicholson’s face flushed red, and with great effort, he resisted the urge to swear, ”You asked me to think, but not about drinking poison!”

”Because I don’t trust you.” Baron Lawrence’s jet-black eyes stared into his, as if seeing through his soul, ”You agreed now, how can I be sure you won’t run later? I don’t want people to follow you 24/7; it’s too much trouble.”

Paris Arden-Nicholson, desperate to avoid drinking poison, raised his left hand as if swearing, ”No trouble, no trouble, I guarantee I won’t run away!”

”I only believe you don’t want to die.” Direct, ruthless enough!

Paris Arden-Nicholson realized that regardless of what he said, Baron Lawrence wanted him to drink the mysterious substance. His scruffy face was contorted almost beyond recognition, suddenly he flung his hand, ”I won’t drink it; you drink it.”

As soon as he spoke, Scott Harris had stealthily moved to his side, pressing the muzzle of a Browning pistol silently against his waist.

Paris Arden-Nicholson’s muscles went rigid.

Baron Lawrence looked into his eyes, his handsome face showing no emotional fluctuations, his rose-colored thin lips impatiently pursed, ”Drink!”

Even Paris Arden-Nicholson’s thick nerves could sense Baron Lawrence’s extreme impatience.

He could also feel the gun pressed against his waist wasn’t aimed at a vital spot, but where a shot could leave him paralyzed. His eyes, bright and clear, were full of frustration and misfortune, glancing toward Enna Clark so pitifully. Enna Clark felt bad in her conscience meeting his gaze and turned her head away.

Sorry, she really wanted to save Gigi.

Paris Arden-Nicholson saw his last hope of rescue had chosen to leave him to die; he reached out, slowly picked up the bottle, resigning himself, ”Just to say, I don’t work for free! If you want me to diagnose you, I charge.”

Even a Samaritan hero needs money, he has to swipe a card to buy a motorcycle, nobody’s just going to give him one for free because of his medical prowess.

Maintaining one’s hobbies is an expensive affair.

”Fine.” Baron Lawrence is never short of money!

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