Maxwell Saxon chuckled lightly, "Matthew, do you not trust me that much?"
"As long as you understand."
Maxwell smiled again, raising his injured hand, his finger gently sliding across Scarlett Yates' fair cheek, "Since you don't trust me, then take her back, Villa 115 at the outskirts by White Cloud Mountain. It's late, and the mountain road is hard to travel; you need to be careful."
Beep beep beep—
Matthew Saxon hung up the phone.
Maxwell tossed the phone onto the bedside table, his fingers wandering to Scarlett Yates' lips before pausing, then slowly landing on her soft lips.
He smiled, "Scarlett, you really surprise me. I never thought my promiscuous brother would genuinely fall for you."
"But if he finds out he fell in love with the daughter of the woman who indirectly caused his mother's death, do you think he'll regret it, feel pain?"
"By then, it would be an interesting drama of love and hate, just thinking about it is quite intriguing."
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