Instinctively, Titus Zane glanced in the direction of the voice.
On the street in front of the company building, a flashy sports car was parked, with a man in racing attire leaning on it, one arm draped over the car, the other foot tapping against the ground.
His short hair stood in disarray, likely gelled, with dark shades covering his face, and a wicked smile on his lips, the kind typically seen on a silver-spoon-fed rich kid.
Titus Zane slightly furrowed her delicate brows, having no interest in men who hit on her out of the blue, even feeling a repulsion. She averted her gaze, intending to cross the street to the sweets shop opposite to buy some desserts.
They say sweets can brighten one's mood, not to mention she hadn't had breakfast yet.
She had barely stepped off the curb when the rich kid by the luxury car paced over with an arrogant air, quickly stepped in front of Titus Zane.
