Even with the best temperament, having been treated like this over and over again, she couldn't hold back anymore. She bit her lower lip and reached out to grasp the wrist of the man washing her with the showerhead, his face stern. Her bright eyes were full of anger, "Baron Lawrence, what are you doing!"
"Washing you!" he replied, as if it were the most natural thing!
Enna Clark felt the strings of her heart tense, and she tried her best to calm down before asking, "Why?"
The man with a stern face pressed his thin lips tightly together and said nothing, but the showerhead insistently aimed at her.
From his behavior, Enna Clark could already tell why. A chill went through her heart, and a rage fueled by a feeling of mistrust surged within her. She glared at the man of lofty pride, word by word, "Is it just because Mr. Howell took me home? You think I'm dirty? That I need a shower?"
"You don't trust me?"
