Sophie Wilson drank the warm milk in one gulp, feeling a faint sweet fragrance lingering on her lips. She stuck out her tongue and licked it.
The tip of her tongue, crimson and delicate, swiftly swept across and quickly retracted. Sophie suddenly thought of something she wanted to tell Charles Seymour but was stunned when she looked up.
Charles Seymour's gaze... why was it a bit terrifying?
"What's wrong with you?" It was deep, deep, as if there were black flames burning in hell.
"Nothing." Charles spoke, his cool voice unexpectedly tinged with a bit of suppressed hoarseness.
Sophie tilted her head slightly, looking at Charles with puzzlement. Was there really nothing wrong with his work?
"Give me the cup." Charles frowned, seemingly in a hurry.
Thinking that he might have some troublesome matters to deal with at work, Sophie obediently handed the cup to him, deciding to talk to him about her matter tomorrow.
