"Perfect, what kind of cake do you want? I can help you order it," Adam Sinclair said nonchalantly.
"Dog shit flavor. Go ahead and order that," Olivia Lewis glared back angrily.
Adam Sinclair glanced at her with amusement and chuckled, "I've always known you have a strong taste, but I didn't expect it to be this strong. If you really like it, I can find a Master pastry chef to develop a dog shit flavored cake just for you. Have him make it for you three times a day to keep you full! That way people won't say I'm mistreating you or unwilling to spend money on you."
"…" Olivia Lewis found herself at a loss for a retort for the first time and snorted coldly, "Young Master Sinclair, you sure have a sharp tongue."
