Nan Jiaojiao's chilliness subsided a bit, but as Bo Yanching drew closer, she stepped back.
"You smell of perfume."
Bo Yanching's dark eyes widened slightly. How could he possibly smell of another woman's perfume?
But if Nan Jiaojiao said it was there, then it was there. It was his fault for carelessly picking it up in the corridor.
"Fine."
His thin lips pressed together, and without another word, he took off his coat.
A suit custom-tailored worth millions, tossed into the rubbish bin without a second thought.
Then he started to unbutton his shirt, each button undone carefully, his gaze never leaving her, and when he reached the fourth button, he spoke in a soft, pleading voice, "Sweetheart, it's a bit cold. Can I continue in my room?"
Nan Jiaojiao glared at him, then suddenly laughed.
She walked over, helped him button up, "I know you didn't touch her. Don't throw it away next time, suits are expensive."
