Delphine looked up, and the man's extraordinarily handsome face came into view. Griffith Squire wore a dark red suit, his eyes glinting with a teasing smile, as he spoke in a deep, seductive voice: "With just a few low-class women, how come you didn't fight back?"
Delphine paused for breath, stood up, cautiously put some distance between them, and responded flatly, "Hit the younger ones, and the older ones come, what a hassle."
Griffith Squire burst into laughter at her words. Indeed, it was true, these so-called aristocrats, each born with a silver spoon, you hit the younger ones, and a bunch of the older ones would come, exceedingly annoying.
A hint of amusement flickered in Griffith's eyes as he saw her on guard, squinting, he lazily stood up, pocketed the lipstick and the notepad he picked up.
Delphine frowned slightly, saying nothing.
"Am I not as handsome as Ignatius Leclair? Or is my power and status not as good as his?"
