Dexter was the most annoyed at the moment but he tried so hard not to bore holes on Rachel's head as soon as she left his father's room. With a look of calmness that seemed to be seeping with rage, Dexter eyed the woman who was struggling to hold a notebook and he chuckled at this. "What is it this time? He took a pity to a woman who paints on the street and take her to bed? His taste, I don't know if I should commend him for how bad it is, or be disgusted."
"I don't know what you are thinking of, young man. But I am not and I didn't climb to your father's bed," Rachel said, feeling somehow offended.
Dexter stepped forward with his arms crossed, "You aren't? Then what are you doing?"
"Business," she spat, walking down the staircase and Dexter coldly reached his hand forward as though he was going to push her. As if feeling the urge, she snapped her head, finding Dexter who was still standing with his arms crossed.
