The overpowering scent of perfu rushed over, and Baron Lawrence instinctively squinted his eyes, a strong aversion welling up in his gaze. He turned his head coldly, grabbed her wrist, and forcefully pushed it aside, his eyes laced with mockery, as if he’d heard the biggest joke in the world, "You want to surpass Enna Clark?"
Miranda Lewis, under the gaze of his eyes more dazzling than the stars, felt both nervous and shy. Her heart was pounding wildly, and even though she had just witnessed how ruthless and cold this man could be, the more unattainable he seed, the more she longed to grasp him.
She lowered her head, nervously biting her lower lip, looking pitiable, "I didn’t, I’m saying, I know I can’t compare to Enna, I never thought of surpassing Enna’s place in your heart, I just like you. Really, really, truly like you. I like you so much I can’t control myself, like you so much it hurts. President Lawrence, could you please pity and give a chance?"
A weak little woman making such a sincere confession, placing herself in such a low position. Under normal circumstances, even if the man being confessed to wasn’t moved, he might agree to the woman’s request just to satisfy his ego.
Moreover, she was different from the usual case; her deanor, tone, and even appearance were very much like the type this man liked.
She believed she could succeed!
Even if he aid a gun at her, she still wanted to grasp him.
If she couldn’t catch this man, missed this chance, she might revert to her original state. She didn’t want that... absolutely didn’t want to go back to the past.
She was willing to forgo her dignity just to desperately hold onto this man!
"President Lawrence, I really like you... especially, especially love you... I love you..." Miranda had tears in her eyes from the earlier fright, and as she spoke, tears flowed down, genuinely evoking extre compassion.
Unfortunately, she was putting on this act for the wrong person to see.
Baron Lawrence clasped her wrist with one hand, not giving her a chance to get closer, while his eyes coldly watched her performance, his expression undisguisedly disgusted, "So what? You like , so I have to give you a chance? Should I give every woman who likes a chance? What makes you think you’re so special?"
Were there few won who’ve liked him since childhood?
If he had to sleep with every woman who confessed to him, what would that make him, a gigolo?
Ha!
Baron Lawrence coldly swept over her pale face and said directly, "In my heart, you can’t even compare to a strand of Enna Clark’s hair!"
In my heart, you can’t even compare to a strand of Enna Clark’s hair!
Miranda suddenly widened her eyes, unable to believe her ears...
Baron Lawrence had long beco weary of her insincere performance. He never intended to give her face, just couldn’t be bothered to tell her. He was utterly tired of this woman constantly pestering him, her self-important attitude, and with a frown of impatience said, "You and Enna Clark are incomparable, you’re not even worthy of comparing to her na! And stop deliberately imitating her in front of , ever heard of the Impostor?"
Miranda’s ears buzzed, her vision darkened.
Impostor?
In his heart, she was an Impostor?
The Impostor who imitates in vain?
Her face turned deathly pale, the kind of paleness after being thoroughly humiliated, so much so she could hardly stand, wishing she could find a crack in the ground to crawl into—
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