"I’m not short of money, it’s just that my car got smashed and dirtied, and I’m holding a grudge. I wanted to make it difficult for you."
Isabella Weaver jumped up: "Ah, so now you admit you did it on purpose to trouble !"
Harry Hunter chuckled lightly: "If I didn’t trouble you, we wouldn’t have had any interactions, right? I find you aesthetically pleasing, with a cool and aloof personality that doesn’t seem clingy, you like money but have a lot of pride. When the old man was faking illness to pressure into marriage, I imdiately thought of a fake marriage with you."
Moreover, to be precise, Isabella Weaver was the first to kiss him.
He was surprised to find he didn’t feel repulsed, and actually kind of liked it, so he decided not to let go.
Isabella Weaver wrapped her arm around his, resting her head on his shoulder, walking slowly with him, listening to him talk about his thoughts when they first t, finding everything he said sweet.
At first, he wasn’t moved; he probably just felt comfortable being with her, and determined she was a good choice for a fake marriage to deal with his family.
The sun gradually disappeared below the horizon, the sky darkened, and lights began to shine one by one, making the small town bustling and beautiful.
The group went to a restaurant for authentic Italian cuisine. After dinner, Harry Hunter took Isabella Weaver to a bar.
The music in the bar was deafening, and the neon lights flashed non-stop, blindingly bright. It wasn’t too crowded at the ti, but there was already a band on stage singing their hearts out, igniting the entire bar’s atmosphere.
Harry Hunter took Isabella Weaver to a sofa in a booth, ordered so drinks and snacks, and sat back to relax.
Isabella Weaver was a bit excited by the intense music, hugging Harry Hunter’s waist, she loudly asked, "Didn’t you forbid from coming to bars?"
The music was too loud, so Harry Hunter leaned close to her ear and replied, "You’re not allowed to go to strip clubs. This is a normal bar, you can co, but only if I’m with you."
Isabella Weaver was actually just joking; she hadn’t intended to see strip shows, nor expected Harry to really take her to a bar. She found it thrilling and fun.
She cupped Harry Hunter’s face and gave him a kiss, picked up a cocktail of which she didn’t know the na, and smiled brightly, "Young Master, cheers!"
Harry Hunter smiled, raised his glass to clink with hers, drank it in one go, then wrapped an arm around her waist, the other stretched out on the sofa, his long legs casually crossed, relaxed yet noble and aloof.
Grace Watt poured Isabella Weaver’s drink beside her, and next to Harry, Jace poured his drink. David and Jace both dressed in suits, stood behind Harry like bodyguards, deterring any ordinary people from approaching.
Isabella Weaver finally saw this man’s unrestrained and arrogant side again.
Before, when he often went to the Royalton Club, he had the sa deanor, high and mighty, cold and noble, looking down on everything.
This is the true Young Master Hunter.
Six months ago, Isabella Weaver was drinking with him, and she didn’t expect six months later, it’s still her.
She smiled sweetly, sat on Harry Hunter’s lap with a glass of wine, feeding him a drink: "Young Master, want a drink?"
Harry Hunter laughed, never thinking he would receive such treatnt, it was truly unexpected!
This little girl really knew how to play. Could she have learned it from those hostesses at the Royalton Club?
Harry Hunter opened his mouth to drink and asked, "Have you ever fed anyone else like this?"
Isabella Weaver playfully slapped him, pouting, "Oh Young Master, so wronged, I’ve only fed you!"
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