Daisy Ginger had a comfortable sleep.
When she woke up, it was just dawning.
The curtains were pulled open, and the morning breeze, carrying a hint of moisture, blew in. The sunrise was half-visible, casting an indistinct and hazy light.
She stretched lazily in the quilt, feeling the smooth fabric against her skin, and only then did she realize something was off.
She felt around and discovered she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing...
Her last memory was of herself furiously cursing Edward Stephens at the table.
Daisy abruptly sat up in bed, instinctively looking around.
The dim light and shadows were enough for her to see the hotel room clearly.
A five-star hotel, with decor that was commercial yet orderly. Not far away, a beige fabric sofa held a sleeping person.
The man, with long arms and legs, seemed quite crowded on the one-meter-long sofa. His limbs had nowhere to go, and most of his long legs were sticking out.
