Reborn as Mr.CEO's Fat Wife-Chapter 910: Behave, Don’t Make Trouble in the Car

The second day was for photo shooting.

The show team rented a local studio, and the shooting today was much simpler than the recording yesterday. Everyone seemed very relaxed.

Especially after being tormented by Zoe Thatcher and James Jerome’s "dark cuisine" last night, everyone desperately needed a break.

However, after getting their makeup and hair done, Duke Blue still hadn’t received any news from the show team about the Raspberry Snacks advertisement, making him quite displeased. He leaned over and whispered into Ace’s ear for a while.

Understanding his directive, Ace left the makeup room and went to find Simon Baker.

After hearing Duke Blue’s thoughts, Simon Baker smiled and dodged the issue with Tai Chi-style evasion, saying, "We won’t know the result until Saturday’s broadcast, will we? Why is Young Master Duke so impatient? Haha."

Having spent enough time with Duke Blue, Ace was well-acquainted with the industry’s unwritten rules and had long become a slick operator. Hearing the director’s amiable attitude and assurance to "not worry," he immediately assumed that the director had already decided on their Young Master Duke. Ace hurried back to deliver the news.

Receiving this update from his assistant, Duke Blue’s expression finally softened slightly. Ace, however, couldn’t help but feel uneasy when recalling how Mary Scott had emerged from Simon Baker’s hotel room last night. "Young Master Duke, do you think Mary Scott climbed into Director Baker’s bed on her own initiative? Could it be for this endorsement deal?"

Just about to head out for the shoot, Duke Blue’s movements stiffened, but he quickly sneered, "No way. Simon Baker is just a minor director in the show team. Perhaps he managed to get Mary Scott into the program, but what power does he have to sway Raspberry Snacks’ boss?"

Ace agreed immediately, "True. Not to mention her tarnished reputation—her level of stardom isn’t even appealing enough for them to consider her."

Duke Blue nodded, but the thought of Mary Scott preferring to accept Simon Baker’s advances rather than approaching him still left him sour. This frustration carried over to the shooting, where his attitude toward Mary Scott was tinged with disdain.

Mary Scott had no idea what madness Duke Blue was drinking in again, nor did she bother to care, focusing entirely on her photo shooting.

Having shared barbecue the night before, the show team members warmed considerably toward Mary Scott. Noticing Duke Blue’s poor attitude toward her, they spent the shoot entertaining her constantly, prompting Stella Murray to join in and tease, "Photographer buddy, I’m starting to think you’re showing little Mary extra favoritism here. Let me remind you, Mary is a married woman; you’ve got no chance! So instead of focusing more on her, why don’t you focus on me—’big sis’ here is single, you know."

"Same here! Photographer buddy, look at me too—make me look gorgeous in the shots!" Zoe Thatcher seemed to have fully embraced her carefree side after surviving last night’s dark cuisine.

James Jerome chimed in indignantly, "I could go single for a while as well, but I doubt the photographer could overlook my gender?"

Adam Piers stood off to the side, one hand in his pocket. "Should I coordinate with all of you?"

The photographer, "..." These people have got to be toxic!

Mary Scott couldn’t hold it anymore and collapsed into laughter on the side, while Duke Blue, utterly neglected, grew even more humiliated. He was supposed to be the most popular one here, wasn’t he?

But no one cared about his expression. Amid the playful commotion, the atmosphere during the shoot grew even more relaxed. Except for Duke Blue’s deadpan face, everyone was incredibly lively in front of the camera, each showcasing their unique charm—especially Mary Scott and Adam Piers, whose striking features paired with sheepskin coats exuded an indescribable allure.

Simon Baker briefly reviewed the footage, showed a satisfied "OK" gesture to everyone, and announced that they were free to head home or wherever. A cheer erupted below.

It was Mary Scott’s first time encountering such a pleasant work dynamic. Watching the others disperse, she felt a rare sense of reluctance, but then remembered there were still five episodes left to record and her spirits lifted again. Alongside Mia Anderson, she returned to the hotel to pack her luggage for their flight. Who could’ve guessed that as soon as they stepped out of the hotel, they would spot a tall figure walking toward them?

"Director Locke?" Mia Anderson thought she must be seeing things. Based on his publicly disclosed itinerary online, Director Locke was supposed to be in Switzerland right now, so why was he suddenly at a hotel in Earlbind?

Mary Scott had noticed David Locke even before Mia Anderson and initially thought she must have mistaken him for someone else, so she didn’t pay much attention. It wasn’t until Mia Anderson excitedly called out "Director Locke," causing heads to turn, that Mary Scott realized she hadn’t been mistaken—this truly was David Locke.

But... wasn’t he supposed to be away on business?

"Why are you here?" It was only when the man walked up to her that Mary Scott managed to find her voice.

David Locke cast a chilly glance at the woman, bundled up warmly and looking rosy-cheeked, seemingly nonplussed by the online abuse directed at her. He nodded arrogantly, "Hm. Here for work."

Mary Scott didn’t think David Locke would have come specifically for her, so she simply nodded in response, "I just finished recording and am heading back to Swallow City. What about you?"

"Hm. Heading back too." Having flown all the way from Switzerland, David Locke didn’t know whether to feel frustrated or relieved upon finding Mary Scott unmoved by the whirlwind of online scolding she’s been swept up in.

Mary Scott found it strange—didn’t he say he had business? How could he have wrapped it up so quickly?

Then again, given David Locke’s abilities, perhaps he solved everything in the blink of an eye. She didn’t overthink it. "I’ll be going back with the show crew. What about you?"

"Hm." David Locke nodded.

Mary Scott felt a headache coming on. She couldn’t decipher whether the man’s "Hm" was an invitation to ride with him or simply an acknowledgment of her words.

Thankfully, moments later, David Locke turned and headed towards a Bentley parked nearby. Mary Scott hesitated briefly about whether to follow him until the man impatiently urged, "Get in already."

"Oh," Mary Scott finally snapped out of her daze and followed David Locke.

David Locke’s assistant had arrived earlier, now staring at his boss, who—after flying twelve hours straight from Switzerland to Earlbind, spending another forty-some minutes reaching the hotel—didn’t even enter the hotel before preparing to return to Swallow City. The assistant silently questioned what all this was for.

Yet his boss wore an impassive expression and told him plainly, "Book one ticket. You stay behind to handle the wrap-up." freeωebnovēl.c૦m

The assistant, "..."

Fine then.

If returning the car qualifies as "wrap-up."

Upon hearing this, Mary Scott finally realized David Locke truly had work to do. A quiet disappointment flickered in her heart, just as David Locke abruptly asked, "How was the recording?"

"Everyone was very friendly. Director Baker was particularly great." Mary Scott hadn’t expected David Locke to inquire about such things, giving him a somewhat formal response.

David Locke glanced at her coldly. "I heard you spent the recording leisurely slacking off. True?"

"Who said that? I did no such thing!" Over the past few days, Mary Scott had endured plenty of online abuse, with claims that she had shirked her duties during the show—leaving Duke Blue to single-handedly drill ice holes. This allegedly caused their group’s progress to lag behind others. Mary Scott had seen these comments but didn’t take them to heart, especially since Director Baker assured her things would get cleared up during the weekly broadcast. Yet for some reason, hearing David Locke repeat these accusations made her reflexively deny them.

But once she had rebuffed the claim, her mood only worsened, certain that David Locke didn’t believe her.

Mary Scott’s visible disappointment was so apparent that David Locke inexplicably felt better. He reached out and ruffled her hair. "Hm. I believe you."

"Huh?" Mary Scott blinked in surprise, lifting her gaze as if suspecting she’d misheard.

Her exaggerated reaction caught David Locke off guard for a moment. He cleared his throat awkwardly and added, "Don’t understand what ’I believe you’ means?"

Mary Scott shook her head hurriedly, realizing her reaction was painfully silly. Yet her heart was unexpectedly warmed by his trust, and her prior feelings of disappointment dissipated into joy.

David Locke, a director adept at managing people’s emotions, effortlessly picked up on the subtle shifts in Mary Scott’s demeanor. Feeling pleased, he broke his usual reserved mold to compliment her, "Your fishing skills aren’t bad."

"Huh?" Mary Scott was once again caught off guard, surely not expecting David Locke to have watched her live-streamed moments on the variety show.

David Locke found her deer-in-headlights expression amusing, along with the faint blush that highlighted her surprise. An involuntary sound lowly rumbled from his throat, almost teasing, "Surprised, are we?"

Mary Scott shook her head at first but reacted again by nodding. She had assumed he loathed her, unlikely to ever voluntarily watch her antics.

"Heh." David Locke chuckled lightly as he observed Mary Scott’s increasingly pink face. Her endearing simplicity hadn’t changed over the years. When she behaved herself, it seemed truly genuine. Unable to resist, he pulled her into his arms with a smile still playing on his lips.

Mary Scott froze entirely, dazed, lifting her puzzled eyes to the man’s face as though probing his intentions. But before she could make sense of it, David Locke leaned down and nipped her ear, his raspy voice commanding, "Don’t move."

"What are you doing? People are behind us!" Mary Scott’s embarrassment rocketed as she remembered Mia Anderson still lingering in the backseat, not to mention the assistant driving in the front. What was this man thinking? Yet before these words could fully settle, Mary Scott abruptly sensed discomfort from below and was wholly flabbergasted. Raising her head in shock to scrutinize David Locke, she could only stammer, "You... you..."

"Keep it quiet. What, you want everyone knowing?" David Locke shrugged nonchalantly. As a normal man, being forced apart from his beloved and now sharing closeness—it wasn’t absurd for him to react.

Mary Scott felt her entire body ignite in heat. She’d never met a man as shameless as this one. No wonder he had swarmed in copious tabloid scandals before. Turns out, he’d embodied a walking teddy bear—ready to heat up anywhere, anytime!

Phew!

Mary Scott took a deep breath, the slight goodwill she’d felt earlier for his trust now completely shattered into ruins. She desperately wished she could leap straight off the car to escape the situation entirely while simultaneously wrestling with the deep sense of grievance swelling inside. So, was this man kindly transporting her and her brother back to Rose Valley simply because it’d be more convenient for his unabated primal urges?

Her previously buoyant mood nosedived, made worse by the boldness of the man who held her. His increasingly reckless yet restrained actions turned rough.

In a momentary reflex of shame and fury, Mary Scott lunged forward during David Locke’s distraction to sink her teeth sharply into his wrist.

"Ugh..."

The spacious car interior abruptly echoed with a suppressed groan from David Locke, its tone unexpectedly deep and husky. The assistant driving stiffened straight up, cautiously glancing into the rearview mirror only to meet his boss’s warning gaze. He quickly dropped his focus back onto driving.

Mia Anderson’s body, meanwhile, involuntarily jerked backward as though trying to bury herself into the cushioned seat, quietly minimizing her existence so as not to interrupt the pair resembling lovers rekindling after long separation.

Mary Scott said nothing but heated up all over, annoyed and utterly mystified by David Locke’s reaction. What sort of indecent sound was that from just being bitten?

She returned to glare at him, only to be caught off guard by the faint curve lifting his lips—genuine mirth brimming from the depths of his expression, far removed from the perfunctory facade he typically wore. Mary Scott remained dumbstruck.

David Locke seized the opportunity to lean in, his voice lowered as his lips teasingly brushed her ear, "Be good. Don’t mess with me in the car. Wait for tonight—then you can bite however you want."

The last phrase was drawn out in an almost inaudible whisper.

Mary Scott stiffened like an electric current had coursed through her nerves, instinctively understanding David Locke’s shocking implication. Her cheeks flushed as if brimming over with liquid heat; shameless rascal!

"I meant you could bite my wrist—you’re imagining something else?" David Locke chuckled lightly, immediately sensing her skin heating further under his touch. His amusement lingered as he casually tossed her yet another tone-spiked inquiry.

Finally reaching her boiling point, Mary Scott wriggled forcefully out of David Locke’s embrace, choosing instead to perch near the window, deliberately maintaining a half-meter safe-zone between them.

But no matter how far she sat, they were still sharing the same cabin—where could she really escape? And perhaps it was due to the aftermath of being hugged by him, but Mary Scott found herself surrounded by his lingering presence—his faint woodsy scent enveloping her like an invisible cocoon.

What’s worse, after pulling away, David Locke shifted his long legs outward comfortably, casually blocking her path. It wasn’t precisely an oppressive "wall slamming" move, though the implicit invasion felt even more private, tugging the air toward unprecedented intimacy.

"How’s the camaraderie with the others in the crew?" David Locke now aimed to steer matters back amicably, posing this question in a measured tone.

Mary Scott could hardly ignore such inquiries, mumbling back, "Pretty good—everyone’s nice, and the crew has taken great care of me."

"Duke Blue too? Has he been caring for you?" The faint smile grafted onto David Locke’s lips faltered, morphing immediately—his sharp line of questioning growing opaque.

Investigating as he traveled earlier, he’d heard plenty about Duke Blue’s middling fame in contrast to the fluency of his flirtation. Pairing this rumor with yesterday’s shared group assignment during her live shoots, particularly Duke Blue’s buoyantly voiced "Mary sis," riled David Locke intensely like a signal striking prime jealousy’s hornet nest.

Mary Scott blinked uncertainly. Beyond perplexed why David Locke would specifically single out Duke Blue amidst the topic unrelatedly. Her thoughts chaotic-but-fogged till clearing clicked realization: dealing intensively lambasting third-party ideals didn’t occur voicing verbally existent—pushing harmonious whereby misdirection mounted presented.

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