Leon rubbed his stinging cheek and realized the surface that hit his cheek wasn't too rough or wide but cold. It reminded him of her slender legs wearing lace strapped designer pointed heels.
'She hit me with her sandals?' The thought of it enraged him.
His breathing twitched, eyes turned red in anger. He looked like a wounded demon that was in need of blood to heal.
'Did I fall into her trap?'
Squinting his eyes, he looked around the darkness, 'What is in here?'
He tried to put his brain on the activities that happened a few minutes back.
'Was she alone in the party hall?'
'Was President Dawson panicked due to her?'
'Why didn't my men notify me about her in the hall?'
'Why wasn't she terrified after falling down?'
'Why didn't she cry?'
'How could she be so calm?'
Now he was careful to even touch the 'rack' without knowing what could be there.
