"Afraid of ?" Nicholas Croft raised an eyebrow, a playful smile at the corner of his lips. Sophie Foster shook her head, laughing sheepishly, unwilling to admit, "How could that be? You’re handso and easygoing, why would I be afraid of you?"
"Then why are you sitting so far away?" Nicholas discovered that teasing a young kitten just out of its teens was more fun than playing cards. He felt a great mood seeing the kitten clearly on guard but stubbornly unwilling to admit it. With one arm resting on the back of the chair, he leisurely sipped his brandy, looking all relaxed and comfortable, unintentionally exuding an air of gentlemanly elegance.
Once upon a ti, even if he did nothing, he would drive those won crazy. Unfortunately, that wasn’t Sophie’s focus.
She laughed and said, "You’re... too handso. Back in school, the teacher said beautiful things should be admired from a distance and not approached too casually!"
Nicholas exaggeratedly furrowed his brows. The little kitten might not be cultured, but her sweet-talk was as sweet as honey.
No longer teasing, Nicholas leaned forward to set down his glass and picked up the tal cigarette case, taking a cigar and putting it between his teeth.
"Uncle?" Sophie called out, and Nicholas looked up, deftly playing with a platinum lighter between his fingers. Sophie pointed at the cigar between his teeth, "This... shouldn’t be smoked too much."
She had heard that a cigar can last a week, otherwise, nicotine poisoning could cause dizziness. If it weren’t for the handso uncle’s promise of a tip, she wouldn’t have bothered to remind him.
"I’m craving a smoke, there’s nothing else," Nicholas spread his hands helplessly.
"Um... if you don’t mind, I have,"
Sophie rummaged through the pocket of her denim jacket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes—cheap, common ones. She took one out, thought about it, then put it back, "You’d better stick with the cigar, mine isn’t very presentable."
Nicholas didn’t say a word, placing the cigar on the low table and gesturing to Sophie with a finger.
"You... really want it?"
"Just give one,"
Sophie took a cigarette from the pack and handed it over, feeling the sting of poverty for the first ti in her eighteen years.
"Light it."
Nicholas didn’t take it, calmly instructing. "Oh," Sophie said, placing the cigarette in her lips as she patted herself down for a lighter. A crisp "snap" echoed in front of her—it was Nicholas, lighting the lighter. "Oh, thanks,"
Sophie took a couple of puffs from the cigarette Nicholas lit before he took it from her fingers.
"Give it to ."
Sophie...
Staring at the outstretched elegant fingers in front of her, she was montarily dumbfounded before saying, "It’s got my saliva on it,"
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, "Didn’t you already kiss without asking?"
"I had no choice," Sophie explained with a pout. Nicholas didn’t continue the topic. While gesturing at the cigarette in her fingers with his chin, he casually asked, "Are you short on money?"
Sophie rubbed her hands on her knees, saying, "I wouldn’t say I’m short on money, but who ever complains about having too much these days?"
Her heavy makeup couldn’t quite hide the sadness and loss on her face.
If her family had money, her mother’s illness might have been manageable for a while longer.
Taking in the expression on Sophie’s face, Nicholas picked up his glass, "Let’s drink."
"Yeah, yeah, let’s drink." Sophie imdiately put on a cheerful face, raising her glass with both hands to clink with Nicholas’s, "Handso uncle, you’re the most handso and easygoing man I’ve ever t!"
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