Isabella Weaver glanced around, noticing quite a few workers in the manor: "This is not good, everyone is watching!"
Harry Hunter was resolute: "Get on."
Isabella Weaver had no choice but to pick up the fruit basket and climb onto his back.
He had just finished work, wearing a crisp white shirt, with short hair cleanly styled, and a broad, solid back that reminded Isabella of when they first t, and he carried her from the little gallery, leisurely walking on the midnight streets.
Though back then Connor was following behind them, now it was David, keeping a steady distance.
Unchanged, was Harry Hunter’s warmth, his steady steps.
Isabella Weaver hugged his neck, indifferent to the watching eyes, as long as she had this man cherishing her, she didn’t care about anyone else’s gaze.
As she was feeding cherries to Harry Hunter, she eagerly asked, "How do I look today?"
"Average."
Isabella Weaver was astonished, twisting his ear: "Mr. Hunter, have you lost it? I thought you’d flatter with closed eyes to make happy, but you dare to speak the truth!"
"Madam Hunter, you’re about to rip my ear off."
Harry Hunter’s voice carried a soft hint of laughter: "I ant the clothes are average, my wife is naturally beautiful."
Isabella Weaver was satisfied and let go: "Does it hurt?"
"Not at all, no more."
Isabella Weaver puzzled: "Why? It’s not allowed anymore?"
Harry Hunter had to turn around
Isabella Weaver’s face instantly flushed red, embarrassed, and annoyed: "How would I know you were outside..."
Is his ear so sensitive?
Isabella Weaver stared at his ear, thinking about whether she should experint in the future, to see just how intense his reaction would be.
"Are you still socializing tonight?"
"What do you want?"
"Not much, is it wrong to ask?"
"There’s an evening party, I was planning to take you, but if you have other plans, I’ll postpone it."
Isabella Weaver annoyed at his cleverness, gave him a punch: "I don’t have any exciting ideas, you really, why is your mind always filled with random thoughts, of course we’re going to the party!"
Harry Hunter chuckled lowly, her skin was indeed too thin.
However, the evening party was necessary.
He was not going for himself, but for Isabella Weaver.
He prepared to introduce her to more people, allowing her to fully integrate into his work and life—before, he believed work and life should be separate, but now he changed his mind.
He could use his power and connections to pave the way for her career, making her path smoother.
He intended to use all his ability to nurture her, support her, and be her cornerstone and backup.
Harry Hunter humorously chatted with her along the way, carrying her back to the room.
"Then what should I wear tonight? Attending a celebrity party in straw sandals, will I make the headlines?"
Harry Hunter was washing her hands with natural coconut soap provided by the resort, his tone gentle: "I’ve had a gown prepared for you, but if you want to hit the headlines, wearing straw sandals works too."
Isabella Weaver was just joking, of course, she wouldn’t wear straw sandals to attend.
She looked in the mirror at her purple teeth and tongue, and purple fingers, feeling a bit despondent: "I should’ve known not to eat mulberries today, turned into a purple sweet potato, how can I face anyone? It’s still not washing off, scrub harder."
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