Carson Flores sighed, "Persistently asking questions to the very end isn't a good habit."
Samantha Tate leaned closer, resting her face against Carson's arm, looking up at him with batting eyes and a coquettish pout, "Hey, Carson, just tell me, we're this close now, what's there to hide from each other?"
Carson?
This nickname, my God, really, it felt so sweet to the ears, soft in the heart.
This coquetry, no man could resist it.
Carson turned his head and glanced at Samantha, "Drake Bernard was killed by me, killed by my own hands."
Without hesitation, Samantha said, "Then he must have deserved it."
Carson turned his head, his expression shocked, "Why do you say that?"
Samantha laughed, "You even cared for a driver doomed to die, who you didn't know at all, how could you harm innocent people!"
Carson smiled.
