Capturing the Young Doctor's Heart: Mr. Big Shot Won't Let Me Go-Chapter 20: Am I the One You’re Allergic To?

The man wore a black suit with a tie, dressed very formally, his demeanor consistently mature and steady.

Perhaps his aura was too strong, coupled with the fact he pressured her to drink that night, causing her to have some resistance towards him now.

"Did Mr. Lancaster have something to discuss with me?" she initiated the conversation.

Ethan Lancaster approached her unhurriedly.

A bouquet of unnamed pink roses was vibrant and moist, probably about an arm’s length wide, gathered together, blooming intensely.

Out of courtesy, Claire Prescott stood up from her seat but did not take the flowers from his hand, instead stepping back a bit.

Unchanging in expression, he placed the flowers on her table and slowly said, "Last night, Liam King told me you didn’t want to participate in the program. Is it because of me that you refused to cooperate?"

The man’s gaze was intensely focused on her, naked and without any concealment.

No matter how she wanted to avoid him, his gaze was too overwhelming, too... terrifying.

She calmly responded, "No."

No further explanation, leaving the scene cold and silent.

The room’s lighting was particularly bright, falling on her gentle and elegant face, seeming like she had dressed up deliberately today.

Her pale green dress was as fine as flowing sand, complementing her moonlight-white skin, with long hair braided into a soft plait resting on her left shoulder, even the stray hair well-groomed, appearing chaotic yet agile.

But, despite her perfect disguise, he still detected a hint of apprehension and fear in her eyes.

His tone instinctively softened, "That unpleasant departure the night before, I still dwell on it, Miss Prescott. The initial intention you mentioned, the whole program team will uphold. If I frightened you, I can apologize."

"I haven’t taken that night’s events to heart, not participating in the program is a carefully considered decision, unrelated to you. If Mr. Lancaster sincerely apologizes for that night, then please refrain from disrupting my life again."

First offering an enticing opportunity to invite her to the program, then gifting roses — no matter how foolish she might be, she couldn’t possibly misconstrue his intentions.

Ethan Lancaster heard her meaning, "My appearance is a disruption to you?"

"Yes," she stated bluntly, not at all tactful or subtle.

The thought of ’hard to pursue’ flashed through Ethan Lancaster’s mind. Before he could devise a strategy, he realized the doctor had already issued a polite eviction.

"Sorry, I’m allergic to pollen. If Mr. Lancaster has nothing else, kindly leave."

The man’s eyes were like a deep autumn lake, yet unruffled, "The cause of your allergy is probably not the flowers, but me, isn’t it?"

Claire Prescott did not answer.

It was like a tacit agreement.

And equally indifferent.

Ethan Lancaster’s face slightly darkened, observing her indifferent and distant face without a hint of expression.

To save face, he finally conceded, "Miss Prescott, until we meet again."

With those words, the man pocketed his hands, leaving without hesitation.

The person left, but the flowers remained.

Claire Prescott’s tension slowly dissipated, her tightly clenched fists also relaxing.

It’s not that she was resolute; Ethan Lancaster had behaved very gentlemanly and scholarly in front of her, evidently well-educated, yet the feeling he gave her was somewhat frightening, as if in his eyes, she had become prey that he was determined to capture.

Her gaze landed on the bouquet of flowers on the table, heart a jumble, pondering how to deal with them, Tiger entered with a curious expression.

"Sister Claire’s recent luck in romance seems abundant."

Claire Prescott frowned slightly.

Tiger continued, "This is the fourth handsome guy looking for you this month, each with an extraordinary aura — hasn’t Miss Prescott taken a liking to any of them?"

Claire Prescott changed the topic, "Did you get a good look at the person who just left?"

The abrupt topic shift caught Tiger off guard, he nodded blankly, "What’s wrong?"

"If he comes back, help me stop him, except for medical consultations."

Upon hearing, Tiger couldn’t help but tease, "It seems that gentleman didn’t suit your taste."

Claire Prescott looked at him helplessly.

Tiger always stationed at the counter, knowing who entered Sinclair Apothecary first, quick with news and also the most curious among them.

This mouth, impossible to manage.

She suddenly shifted the focus onto him, playfully asking, "You’re twenty now, right? Have you taken a liking to any girl — I can help set you up."

Upon hearing this, Tiger instantly became serious, "Rest assured, Sister Claire, I will definitely fulfill what you say. If you don’t want someone coming in, I definitely won’t let them in."

Perhaps it was because he didn’t want others to meddle in his affairs, hence the attitude change.

Claire Prescott smiled and didn’t press further, "Do you want these flowers?"

"After all, they were given to you, Sister Claire, you should keep them."

"Throwing them away would be such a waste."

While she pondered, Tiger made a swift exit, "Sister Claire, take your time to think, I’m off to work."

His words faded, and he was already gone without a trace.

"..." Claire Prescott retracted her gaze.

After much thought, she finally decided to dry the flowers for tea after work.

Thus, nearing six o’clock, Keane Lowell entered and saw this scene.

The bouquet was scattered on the ground, and the young girl was squatting with scissors, efficiently snipping off the flower heads and placing them into a basket, her light green dress trailing on the ground, with a misty texture, carrying a whimsical sweetness and ethereal charm.

He walked over and picked up the card that had fallen on the ground.

However, just as he stood up, the young girl suddenly rushed towards him, attempting to snatch away the card. Quick-witted, he didn’t let her succeed.

Her balance lost, she fell into his arms, successfully hugging him.

At the moment of embrace, Claire Prescott’s heartbeat accelerated instantly, pounding heavily over and over, her mind turning blank.

She bewilderedly met his gentle gaze, quickly recovering, and stepped away from him, murmuring an apology.

Then, taking advantage of his distraction, she swiftly snatched the card from his fingers, hiding it behind her.

What the card said, she didn’t know, she wasn’t even aware of its existence, "You... did you see everything?"

The man’s eyes were deep black like ink, the faint scent of woody fragrance lingered at her nose, like the coolness of cedar, quietly watching her.

Claire Prescott’s heart was in a fluster.

Keane Lowell spoke with a cool tone, "The flowers are pretty, why cut them?"

"Drying them for tea is more practical than just admiring them."

"Do you need my help?" he asked blandly, appearing magnanimous with a hint of sharp chill surfacing.

"No need, just wait a moment, I’ll be done soon."

Claire said, crumpling the card into a ball, tossing it into the trash can, quickly tidying up the leaves and branches.

Originally planning to head directly to the theater after work, she hadn’t expected him to come personally, catching her off guard.

After a quick cleanup, she left Sinclair Apothecary with him.

The setting sun painted the alley in a hue of orange-pink, enveloping everything in a warm glow, comforting.

Claire Prescott opened the passenger door, and unexpectedly a bouquet of pure white hibiscus flowers came into view.

Her eyes lit up, and a sweetness bubbled up from her heart like honey.

"Is this for me?" she asked the man in the driver’s seat.

"What else?"

The man gazed at her profoundly.

For some reason, today’s him gave her a peculiar feeling, one moment distant, the next close.

Suppressing the excitement in her heart, she thanked him with restraint, cradling the flowers as she sat in the passenger seat, holding them all the way to the theater without letting go.

They entered through a special passage, encountering few people, but the theater manager came up with a few people to welcome them, flatteringly greeting, "Mr. Lowell."

Amidst the reverence, Keane Lowell led her towards the viewing hall.

The entire hall was empty, with no seats occupied.

It was said these tickets were hard to get, and she had managed to obtain two tickets with difficulty. How could it be that as the performance was about to start, they were the only two here?

Could it be...

Claire Prescott looked at the man beside her.

Could it be he booked the entire place...