A faint, enchanting fragrance was in the air, apparently emanating from the girl’s flawless skin. The scent, carrying a hint of body warmth, caused George River’s breath to hitch.
Unable to resist, he inhaled deeply.
With her jade-like complexion and orchid-like aura, her beauty was simply irresistible.
In an instant, George River’s mind began to whirl.
What if Hannah was doing all of this solely to get back at him? Maybe she still loved him after all.
Hannah, however, had no idea that George River’s thoughts were once again veering towards the domineering boss-like logic.
She straightened up after getting what she wanted.
George River looked over, noticing a cigarette clutched between Hannah’s slim fingers.
It was his.
Hannah curved her lips into a smile, lightly laughing, "Mr. River, you didn’t smoke before."
George River’s eyes flickered slightly.
True, he used to dislike smoking because Tiffany had disliked it.
But later.. seeing the dusty gifts piled up in the storeroom and images of Hannah’s face appearing in his thoughts every night when he closed his eyes, especially after Tiffany lost that tea cup.
He picked up cigarettes once again after his rebellious years.
He found himself addicted to this harmful habit, as irresistible as the person who always appeared in his dreams.
Black hair, snow-white skin, and red lips. Every move she made was seductively enchanting, completely shedding her previous timid and docile deanor, as if she had beco a different person.
Yet, he found it even more unforgettable.
And now, the enchantress from his dreams was sitting right before him.
Her slightly pale fingers delicately holding a cigarette, slender with skin as smooth as cream.
A silver lighter in her hand sparked to life in her palm. Her red lips parted as they t the cigarette, exhaling a wisp of smoke, her eyes enchanting.
She was like a celestial being separated by a layer of clouds, untouchable yet irresistible.
It wasn’t the sowhat unpleasant sll he experienced when he smoked alone.
Mingled with her unique scent, everything beca ambiguously dreamy.
George River felt his consciousness becoming hazy, as if soone had put a dark veil over his head, through which, nonetheless, he could still see a sky full of stars.
It was the sight of her swirling skirt passing by his face.
And then—ran to soone else.
His sky of stars crumbled like a powder, scattering into the wind, leaving only a faint scent of tobacco.
"Mr. Simmons, you’re here."
The girl’s voice was lodious, like it was laced with honey, which instantly lifted Arnold Simmons’ spirits.
However, seeing the cigarette between her fingers, he frowned, his expression turning grim, "You started smoking?"
The question wasn’t posed as a question.
Hannah blinked, moving the hand holding the cigarette behind her, appearing sowhat timid.
George River turned his head, catching sight of the scene. Thinking that Hannah was being scolded by Arnold Simmons, his already tenuous composure completely shattered under Hannah’s provocation.
He stood up, reaching out to pull her behind him, but Arnold beat him to it.
Their gazes locked; one clear and tinged with anger, the other deep and brooding. Neither was willing to step down.
However, as Old Sir River had said, his grandson was no match for Arnold Simmons.
The man who had clawed his way out of hell, bathed in a sea of blood. He hid his bloody past behind his handso facade and noble deanour, but his inner darkness and obsession couldn’t be erased.
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