The hidden intention to kill lurked in the shadows.
Prince Brooklyn still maintained his calm, even the curve of the smile on his lips was flawless.
"Bartholomew, do you intend to kill me?"
"Don't call me Bartholomew." Aubree Groove said coldly.
"I understand, you're the kindest person in the world, your blade never stained with fresh blood."
When the man looked at her with his pitch-black eyes, a passionate undercurrent surged within them.
The tip of the blade advanced an inch, piercing the delicate skin, and a bead of blood oozed out.
"Don't think you understand me, you should know, I've killed more people than the salt you've eaten."
"Really?" The man didn't care, "You're really adorable."
Randa's gaze grew increasingly nasty towards Prince Brooklyn.
Aubree Groove knew that arguing with him would not change his stance, nor could she actually kill Prince Brooklyn.
Having nothing good to say to the shameless man, Aubree Groove put away the dagger.
