The man's pitch-black eyes were as still as a pool, revealing no emotion. He sat in his chair with a lazy posture, taking his time with his cigarette, his relaxed expression making him look like nothing more than a spectator enjoying a show.
Mr. Turner, whom Amelia had just lashed out at, was still talking obliviously, "I heard Ms. Foster's child is not even two years old. That woman who breastfeeds the child has a mesmerizing scent on her body, one that can put men at ease. I've been having trouble sleeping lately, so how about this: no need to sell clothes, just let me take a whiff of that intoxicating scent to comfort myself, and we'll sign the contract right away, what do you say?"
Amelia seemed to not hear his words, her stubborn gaze locked in confrontation with someone else's.
Time passed in silence.
After what felt like forever, Amelia finally withdrew her gaze from the man's emotionless silence.
