"Michael Gordon, aren't you acting like a gigolo now?"
Ivy Aretha raised her eyebrows and looked at the man sitting next to her, waiting for his praise, and said with a light laugh, "Now living off of me and even having me cook meals for you!"
A... gigolo?
Michael's lips twitched uncontrollably, almost spitting out blood. He guessed that it was impossible to hear any nice words from this woman in his lifetime!
Alright, very good, excellent!
"Gigolos aren't meant for cooking!"
Michael stared at Ivy's eyes without any scruples, watching her closely, and found the wicked arc at the corner of his eyes deepening. He suddenly leaned toward her ear, gently bit it, and ambiguously said, "But to serve in bed!"
Serve... in bed... Ivy's face turned red in an instant!
