After Betrayal - I Married a Handsome Tycoon-Chapter 23: Self-Evident

They’d just gotten a taste of each other last night, and now he was asking if she was free tonight.

It was obvious what he was implying.

Moira Sloan arched an eyebrow, her fingertips casually tapping a question mark onto the screen and sending it: ?

Connor Quinn didn’t reply right away. Moira glanced out the door and saw the lights on at the tattoo parlor next door. ’He probably has a client,’ she figured.

A moment later, her phone vibrated. A reply from Connor Quinn: Business.

Moira scoffed. Oh.

’What business could the two of us possibly have?’

They didn’t have any professional dealings, nor were they caught up in social obligations.

Especially not with the... *arrangement* they had.

Not long after Moira sent that "Oh," Shauna Duane, who had been looking down at her phone, glanced up. "Moira... sis... what color do you think Connor Quinn likes?"

Shauna Duane still had issues with her, and the "sis" she’d tacked on was clearly reluctant.

Moira responded with a lazy, sultry, "Hm?"

Shauna said, "I want to knit him a scarf. That way, when he wears it in the fall, he’ll think of me every time he sees it."

If this had been before, Moira might have even subtly sounded out Connor Quinn’s preferences for her.

But now... she had slept with Connor Quinn just last night. Letting this young girl continue to be a moth to a flame felt wrong.

Moira considered this for a few seconds. She crossed her legs, leaned forward slightly, and rested her phone against her chin. "Maybe you should pick a different one?" she asked.

Shauna’s eyes were filled with innocent confusion. "A different what? Gift?"

Moira said, "No. A different man."

Seeing the sincere look on Moira’s face, Shauna’s heart skipped a beat. She sat up bolt upright. "You like Connor Quinn?"

Moira pursed her lips. ’So much for trying to help. You can’t save someone who’s determined to get hurt. If I say any more, this kid will probably threaten to quit on the spot.’ 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"No."

Shauna was on high alert. "Then what did you mean by that?"

Moira leaned back in her chair, the hem of her skirt revealing a slice of calf so pale it seemed to glow. "I just think Connor Quinn isn’t a reliable guy."

Hearing Moira say that, Shauna let out a breath of relief. She licked her lower lip and said, "You only say that because you don’t know him. He’s very reliable. I’ve known him for a long time, and I’ve even asked around about him. Don’t be fooled by how popular he is with women; he’s never been involved in any scandals with any of them."

Moira scoffed. Recalling the events of last night, her expression was one of disdain. "Or maybe he’s just good at hiding it."

When it came to this stuff between men and women, it was always the woman who lost out.

Not physically, but in terms of reputation.

A man sleeps with ten women, and everyone calls him a stud.

But let a woman sleep with ten men and see what happens.

Slut, tramp, whore.

They say society is developing, that humanity is progressing, but the stuff that’s deeply ingrained, carved into our very bones? That’s hard to break down.

It’s like how everyone subconsciously believes men should work outside the home and women should manage it.

People shout about gender equality, but if a husband cooks a few extra meals at home, he’s immediately slapped with the "Good Husband" label.

When does anyone praise a woman for cooking and doing housework?

In the end, it was all because of those stubborn, deep-seated ideas.

That’s why Moira figured Connor Quinn’s good reputation was mainly because he never actually dated any of the women he got tangled up with.

In a small place like Everwood County, women would keep a tight lid on that kind of thing to protect their reputations, so naturally, he came away with a squeaky-clean image.

Considering all his moves and his stamina last night, if someone said he was a virgin, she wouldn’t believe it even if they beat her to death.

As Moira finished speaking, Shauna ignored her, picking up her phone and scrolling through it to choose yarn for Connor Quinn.

After much indecision, she finally picked a green one.

A vibrant, emerald green. She thought it looked full of life.

Just then, the phone in Moira’s hand vibrated. Connor Quinn had sent her another message: Come out. I’m at the door.