Benjamin Walton saw that Charles Seymour remained unmoved and, without a hint of awkwardness, withdrew his hand and smilingly asked, "Young Master Seymour, where have you been making money lately?"
He had prepared himself for the possibility that Charles Seymour wouldn't answer, but to his great astonishment, Charles actually responded.
"Being a gigolo." Charles Seymour's handsome face was as expressionless as a deified statue, and those around him felt as if they had been struck by lightning—scorched on the outside, tender within.
Even an old hand like Benjamin Walton was momentarily taken aback, and the smile on his face nearly collapsed.
"Young Master Seymour, you're kidding. Just a bit of your dividends could sustain others for a lifetime," Benjamin Walton's smile was now rather strained, but thankfully, he managed to maintain it.
Charles Seymour nodded. "Yeah, I'm actually paying to be a gigolo."
Crack!
