Cherish Turner was completely speechless, lowering her head and kneeling on top of William Griffith, looking like a little slave: "Boss, do whatever you want, I'm at your mercy..."
Hearing her say this, a smug, sly look appeared in William Griffith's eyes.
Suddenly, he gently stroked Cherish Turner's head with his large palm, treating her as though she were his pet.
Cherish Turner didn't know if it was just her imagination, but in the morning light, William Griffith's affectionate gaze seemed to carry a hint of melancholy.
But his actions always made Cherish Turner's heart race inexplicably; this feeling was too dangerous, she couldn't allow herself to be engulfed by it.
Brushing William Griffith's hand away, Cherish Turner tousled her hair, deliberately avoiding his gaze, and got out of bed.
"You can decide later..." she said, trying to slip away, but was stopped by William Griffith again.
"Clear your schedule for Saturday."
What for?
