Scarlett Yates suddenly discovered sothing.
Matthew Saxon, the lackluster brother, not only had the knack for effortlessly breaking people’s hands but could also brew a fine pot of tea.
The white porcelain cup was pinched between his fingers, and those jade-like fingers seed to overshadow the brilliance of the cup, making it look like a work of art.
Heaven has been excessively kind to him.
This man’s entire being, every part, is crafted so perfectly.
Such a perfect man is destined to be trouble.
Just like her, always resisting, yet inevitably falling for him.
Matthew noticed her staring at him, her gaze carrying a hint of fascination. He was montarily stunned but then a charming curve appeared on his lips.
He asked, "Does the tea taste good?"
Scarlett instinctively nodded.
Matthew poured her another cup and remarked with a smile, "Then drink slowly, because the story I’m about to tell might be a bit long."
In his enchanting smile, Scarlett found herself nodding again, dazed.
In this silly state, she was ten tis more adorable than the sarcastic and extrely caustic persona she wore monts ago.
If he wasn’t afraid of scaring her away, Matthew indeed wanted to kiss her again.
Having just sipped tea, so of it lingered on her lips, making them appear even more luscious.
Matthew had to restrain his inner desires and cleared his throat, shifting his gaze outward, pretending to look out the window.
Then, like any storyteller, he began with a familiar introduction, "A long ti ago, when I was only seven, I got involved in so complicated matters and was sent to live in a strange place for a while."
"There, I t a girl."
His voice, at so unknown point, began to grow soft.
His eyes gazing out the window seed distant and hollow, as though with the opening of his mories, his mind drifted back to past tis.
His voice was somber and weighty.
Evidently, this was not a joyous mory.
As he spoke, the expression on his face remained heavy, with a hint of subdued pain.
"She was a very lovely girl, much like , visiting her grandmother for vacation. Her grandmother was a housekeeper at the place I temporarily lived, and she would often visit her. Soon enough, we got acquainted."
"At first, I didn’t like her."
"Why?" Though Scarlett didn’t know why Matthew was bringing up his childhood, she listened earnestly.
Matthew slowly turned back, as if recalling sothing, his brows furrowing before he smiled, "Because the first ti I saw her, she was climbing up a pogranate tree, completely filthy, her hair a ss, like a wild monkey."
With his description, the scene unfolded in Scarlett’s mind.
Thinking about it, she couldn’t help but laugh.
"Why are you laughing?"
"I’m laughing because, Young Master, you being such a neat person would certainly dislike a dirty girl."
But he only ntioned that he didn’t like her in the beginning, which ans, later on, he gradually began to like the little girl, right?
So, she realized she was listening to a tale of Matthew Saxon’s childhood, an innocent, budding emotional story?
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