Once the Thorn Bird Publishing deal was finalized, the ownership structure looked like this:
Bruce invested £5.5 million for 55 percent.
Christopher Ritt invested £2.5 million for 25 percent.
Rowling invested £1.5 million for 15 percent.
Neil Murray invested £500,000 for 5 percent.
Neil's money was fronted by Bruce for the time being, though of course that was not something anyone intended to put into the contracts.
As for Rowling, under the realities of Western relationships, even if she had already been married to Neil, she still would not have been obligated to cover half a million pounds for him. And at this point, they weren't even married. Their finances were completely separate.
Once the company was formed, Christopher Ritt became Chief Executive Officer. Bruce took the role of Chairman. Rowling and Neil Murray came in as non-executive directors, with the right to appoint representatives to oversee the company's finances and operations, though neither would be involved in day-to-day management.
Once the contracts were signed, the serious business was over.
Bruce and Christopher were ready to leave, and since Molly had come with Bruce, she naturally needed to head back as well.
By early evening, Bruce drove her back to the same place where he had picked her up.
"Thanks for bringing me back."
Bruce looked at her and said quietly, "Molly, I'm probably leaving Exeter tomorrow. Before I go... can I hug you?"
Looking into the eyes of the tall, handsome man in front of her, Molly hesitated.
She was grateful to him for helping her become acquainted with the person she admired most, but she had almost no experience being physically close to a man. It was hard for her to simply say yes.
But from Bruce's point of view, the fact that she didn't immediately refuse was already a kind of answer.
And in moments like this, he felt a man should take the initiative.
So before Molly had time to react, he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.
Startled, she struggled almost on instinct, but she was no match for his strength.
"Let go of me."
"Just one minute," Bruce said quickly, trying to soothe her. "One minute, and I'll let go. I promise."
"If you don't let go after one minute, I'll scream."
Since she couldn't break free from his strong arms, her voice carried real irritation now.
Unfortunately for Molly, who had grown up under a strict father and had barely ever dated, she still didn't understand that a man's promises in moments like this were not always especially reliable.
So once Bruce realized she was no longer seriously resisting, he relaxed and let himself enjoy the soft warmth in his arms. As for that one-minute promise, it had already flown right out of his head.
Pressed against his broad, solid chest, Molly could feel the strong beat of his heart and the unfamiliar force of his masculine presence. A strange feeling rose inside her, one she had never experienced before. It made her flustered. It made it hard to breathe. And to her own surprise, there was something about it she liked.
"Has the minute passed yet?" she asked at last, her voice trembling slightly.
"Not yet," Bruce said. "Not even close."
"That's not true. It's definitely been a minute already. Let me go. If I get back too late, my father will be furious."
This time, when she struggled again, Bruce didn't stop her.
There was a line.
Using a little boldness when chasing a girl was one thing. Pushing too far was another. Go past that point and all you did was ruin your own chances.
He released her and stepped back at once.
Molly quickly smoothed her hair, straightened the wrinkles in her dress, and finally let out a quiet breath of relief. Without meeting his eyes, she tossed out a hurried line and turned to leave.
"I should go."
"Wait."
Bruce caught her left hand lightly, then took a small box from his pocket and placed it in her palm.
"This is for you."
"No, I can't accept that."
"Good night."
Before she could push it back into his hand, Bruce had already retreated, circled around the car, and gotten in.
"Don't forget to contact me."
He made a phone gesture beside his ear, rolled up the window, and drove off.
Molly stood there watching the car disappear into the distance, then looked down at the small blue box in her hand.
After a brief hesitation, she slipped it into her pocket.
The Bevin family bar wasn't far from the intersection, five minutes on foot at most. Since Exeter City's season was already over, and the major leagues were in their off period, the place wasn't particularly busy.
"Molly, have you eaten dinner?"
Rudy Bevin, who was delivering drinks to a table, immediately asked in concern when he saw his daughter come in.
"I already ate with Judith outside. Do you need help?"
"No, go upstairs and rest. There aren't many customers tonight. Alexander and I can handle it."
At the mention of his name, a young Black employee clearing a table waved to Molly with a grin.
She nodded back, then turned to her father.
"Then I'm going upstairs."
"Get some rest."
"I know."
She headed up to her room on the second floor. Once the door was shut behind her, she lay back on the bed and, after a long silence, found herself picturing Bruce again. That strange combination in him, youthful energy mixed with the weariness of someone who seemed to have lived through far more than his years.
When she remembered that last hug, and the unfamiliar sensation it had awakened in her, she felt a faint warmth spread through her body.
"Is this what people mean when they talk about being in love?"
The thought had barely surfaced before she shook her head hard.
"That's impossible. I've known him less than a week. There's no way I could actually like him."
Restless and conflicted, she lay there for a while longer. Then, noticing the box still pressing against her through the fabric of her dress, she took it out.
With equal parts hesitation and anticipation, she opened it.
Under the soft yellow light of her bedroom lamp, a pair of ruby earrings lay inside.
"They're beautiful."
The words came to her instantly.
A woman's love of jewelry was natural. Molly was no exception. And beyond their beauty, she could tell at once that these earrings weren't cheap.
Of course, Bruce was gone now, so there was no easy way to return them even if she wanted to. More importantly, she genuinely liked them.
"I'll just give him something of similar value next time I see him."
That thought eased most of the discomfort in her heart.
Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Bruce had barely stepped inside when Christopher looked up in surprise.
"You're back already?"
Bruce shot him a look.
"Did you expect me to stay out all night?"
Christopher grinned.
"With a girl that beautiful? I thought you'd at least try."
"If she were actually my girlfriend, I wouldn't need your help figuring that part out," Bruce said dryly. "But we're not even close to that yet. I'm not about to do anything stupid."
Then he paused and added, "Book me a flight from London to San Francisco for tomorrow afternoon."
"You're heading back?"
Bruce nodded.
"Everything I came to Britain to do is done. It's time to go home. There's still a mountain of things waiting for me in the States. What about you? Want to leave together?"
Christopher shook his head.
"No. I need to stay in London a few more days and wrap up the agency side of things."
"All right. Then I won't wait for you."
Christopher leaned back and looked at him with interest.
"So what about your little girlfriend? At Rowling's today, you looked pretty taken with her."
Bruce's hands stilled for a second. Then he went quiet before answering.
"When I was young, my adoptive father once told me something. You can't carry both the fish and the bear home. At some point, you have to choose what matters most."
Christopher nodded slowly.
"That's a good line. So you're choosing your career over love?"
Bruce shook his head.
"No. What I mean is that right now my career comes first. That doesn't mean I'm giving up on love. It just means that eighty percent of my energy has to go into building something. Love comes second."
Christopher looked at him.
"And what if you give that remaining twenty percent and still don't get the love you want?"
Bruce answered calmly, "Then it was never really the kind of feeling I wanted in the first place."
Then he waved the subject away.
"Enough of that. I still need to say goodbye to Rowling tomorrow, then head to London, so I should get some sleep. You should too."
Christopher lifted the National Treasure manuscript in his hand.
"I'll sleep after I finish Book One."
Bruce nodded and went back to his room.
The next day, after saying goodbye to Rowling in person, Bruce returned to London. Since Christopher hadn't been able to get him a same-day flight to San Francisco, he still had to spend one more night there.
Around noon, after checking back into the Waldorf, Bruce was heading downstairs for lunch when the hotel manager stopped him in the lobby.
"Excuse me, sir. Are you Mr. Bruce Guo?"
"I am."
"About fifteen days ago, did you stay here with us?"
"Yes. I was here for four days, about two weeks ago."
"Then that's right. A gentleman named Chen left a postcard for you and specifically asked us to deliver it personally if you ever returned."
"Chen?"
Bruce thought for a second, then it clicked.
"Do you mean Chen Zhen?"
"Yes, that's the name."
"Where is it?"
"One moment, sir. I'll go get it."
"Thank you."
The manager walked off.
Watching him leave, Bruce remembered the straightforward young man he had known for less than a day, yet had somehow fought beside and even landed in jail beside.
Because his phone had been smashed during the fight at the restaurant, he had never managed to get Chen Zhen's contact information. After that, he had gone straight to Exeter with Christopher, and once Rowling entered the picture, everything else had slipped to the back of his mind.
After all, they had only crossed paths briefly.
Their connection wasn't deep, and Bruce hadn't thought much about it afterward.
So the fact that Chen Zhen had remembered him, and even gone to the trouble of leaving something behind, made him feel more than a little ashamed.
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