"Fine, if you won't admit it, I'll put it on your tab for now and collect later. Anyway, it's not like you can run away. If I were to let a few things slip to your mother, I imagine the consequences for you wouldn't be pretty." He smirked, then sped away in his car.
After Nora Ainsworth put it on, she realized the outfit was a perfect fit, as if it had been custom-made for her. She couldn't help but ask curiously, "You're pretty good at picking out clothes. It fits perfectly. How did you know my size?"
He said without turning his head, "I'm usually pretty accurate with a size I've seen before."
Nora Ainsworth was utterly flabbergasted. 'What on earth was this man raised on?'
The car came to a smooth stop on the side of the road not far from the Ainsworth Residence. As she was about to get out, she blurted out, "Do you genuinely want to marry Sharon Ainsworth?"
His previously gentle expression instantly turned cold. Even though the lighting was poor, she could still feel it.
"Forget I asked." 'How could he possibly be genuine?'
She got out of the car and drifted away.
When Nora Ainsworth reached the living room doorway, she found Mrs. Ainsworth sitting there alone.
Seeing her return, Mrs. Ainsworth immediately stood up. "Where have you been?"
Nora Ainsworth replied flatly, "Just out for a walk."
Mrs. Ainsworth nodded. "The Grant Family just called your father to discuss Sharon's wedding. They've arranged to have the wedding photos taken tomorrow. I was thinking it would be good for you and Leon to get yours done ahead of time. You two should go tomorrow as well."
Nora Ainsworth responded with a cold, "Mm."
Without another word, she started to turn away, but Mrs. Ainsworth called out urgently, "Nora!"
Her back was still to Mrs. Ainsworth. "What is it?"
"I was too harsh earlier. Go upstairs and put some medicine on it."
Nora Ainsworth nodded. "Okay."
Mrs. Ainsworth watched her retreating back, her heart heavy.
Her lips parted as if to speak.
On stage, pole dancers writhed, flaunting their assets. The flash of their pale thighs incited waves of excitement from the men below.
In a dim corner, Quentin Grant leaned quietly against the sofa, his eyes glazed over. He held a glass of crimson liquor in his hand and had been in that same position for quite some time before Ethan Ellsworth approached.
"Young Master Grant, should I call a couple of beauties over to keep you company?"
Quentin Grant shot him a glance and said in a low voice, "You're a public figure. Watch your image. Don't let the paparazzi catch you and land you in hot water."
Ethan Ellsworth gave a roguish smile. "Don't worry. My on-screen image is still pretty good right now, buddy. Even if they did get something on me, they'd probably just assume you were behind it. How could a pure and handsome young man like me do something like this?"
Quentin Grant's voice was smooth and melodious, as if laced with musical notes. "You think I don't have enough scandals already?"
Ethan Ellsworth picked up the bottle, poured more wine, and clinked his glass against Quentin's with a crisp sound. He then tilted his head back and downed it in one go. "This engagement of yours has been set for a long time. It's about time you got married."
Quentin Grant's expression was calm as he took a shallow sip of his drink. "If my grandfather and the old master of the Ainsworth Family hadn't been comrades-in-arms, do you think this would even be possible?"
Ethan Ellsworth glanced at him cautiously and asked, "Have you heard anything from—Catherine?"
Quentin Grant's hand paused. He didn't get angry, but placed his glass on the table and said in a heavy voice, "It was her choice. I respect it."