The man was quite astonished; he hadn’t expected Hannah to be able to speak his mother tongue and to speak it so well, especially since it could only be considered a minor language.
Hannah explained that she had learned a little while abroad when she had so spare ti during an interview.
Soon, the two of them started chatting.
They inadvertently turned a private party into a fan et.
When Hannah turned around, she t Arnold Simmons’s exceptionally deep eyes.
There seed to be a hint of...resentnt?
Waving the sheet of paper in her hand, Hannah asked with a smile, "Do you want an autograph too?"
Arnold Simmons sighed, wanting to pinch her cheek but worried that he might ruin her makeup and anger her. In the end, he opted to pinch her hand instead, "Never mind, I’ll settle the score with you later."
There was no one else around; everyone was engaged in their own conversations.
The "fans" who got Hannah’s autographs had the decency to give the two so space.
Hannah looked around and, seeing that no one was paying attention, tiptoed so that her nose just touched Arnold Simmons’s chin, her voice unusually sweet, "Okay, when we get back, it’ll be my turn to coax you."
Arnold Simmons cleared his throat softly, looking down to et Hannah’s gaze.
It was stunningly bright.
Like moonlight falling into a pool of pure, clear water.
That light traveled through the gently shaking water, bit by bit, into his heart.
Arnold Simmons chuckled softly, asking in a low voice, "How do you plan to coax ?"
After thinking for a mont, Hannah ventured, "How about I give you a complete set of my photos?"
Although she was rather vain and particularly fond of her own face, she wasn’t narcissistic enough to have her photos plastered all over her house.
So, when she really thought about it, Arnold Simmons didn’t have any photos of Hannah.
Not counting those he’d collected secretly, of course.
Arnold Simmons was tempted, but still pretended to be calm as he asked, "What kind of photos?"
Hannah hooked her fingers through his and tapped lightly in the palm of his hand, her voice filled with cheerful clarity, "Artistic portraits."
Four words heavy with emotion.
Arnold Simmons paused for a mont before his gaze fell back to Hannah’s face, noting the lingering smile in her eyes, his voice husky, "Who took them for you?"
"Mrs. Yarn did, the mother of Shubai," Hannah said, oblivious to Arnold Simmons’s discomfort as she explained, "I didn’t expect it, but it turns out the aunt not only paints beautifully, she’s also skilled at photography. If I have ti later, I still want her to take more photos of ."
Arnold Simmons’s jealously had surged, but he only cared about one thing, "Was it just the two of you when the photos were taken?"
Hannah looked at him with confusion, "Yes, who else could there be?"
Grace Yarn preferred quiet; whether it was painting or photography, she absolutely did not allow outsiders to disturb her.
Arnold Simmons quietly breathed a sigh of relief, trying hard not to let his little fiancée notice anything amiss, "It’s nothing, the pictures taken are ant to be for ..."
"Of course, the pictures taken are for to appreciate," Hannah interjected tily, then leaned in and whispered, "Mr. Simmons, why are your ears red?"
She fluttered her eyelids, her eyes twinkling with mischievous amusent as a faint blush spread from her cheeks to the corners of her eyes, drawing out a touch of seductive, tender charm.
Arnold Simmons’s breathing grew slightly heavier, the heat from his earlobes spreading to his jade-like cheeks, his voice striving for steadiness, "Red? No, they’re not."
A blatant lie told with a straight face.
Unable to help herself, Hannah tugged at his tie, muttering softly, "A beast in human clothing."
Wearing a suit, he looked more abstinent than anyone else, but the burning intent in his eyes was almost enough to set her afla.
That four-word assessnt hit Arnold Simmons like a blow to the head, and if it weren’t for his strong self-control, he would have already been unable to resist taking Hannah and leaving.
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