She hadn't pulled the trigger yet when the tightly shut door was suddenly flung open.
A slender, pale hand reached over from behind and snatched the pistol from her grip.
Then, a warm body pressed against hers, Amanda smelled the familiar scent, and her body involuntarily relaxed.
"Mr. Jordan, bullying a woman doesn't make you much of a hero, does it?"
The man's elegant, refined voice faintly echoed through the dimly lit private room. With his appearance, everyone sitting on the sofas stood up, some were pressing at their waists, where black pistols were faintly visible, and the atmosphere suddenly became tense.
"Heh."
