At this moment, Jiayi sat by the bed, demure and soft-eyed, like a tender concubine waiting for the emperor's favor.
Yet it was precisely her composure—her professionalism—that displeased Huo Zhenyang, his face gradually darkening.
Had she really come to think of sleeping with him as just a short-term job!?
Get it over with quickly, so she could leave quickly, was that it?
After waiting with no action from the man for quite some time, Jiayi quietly lifted her head and glanced at the sofa.
The light in the bedroom was dim.
Upon entering, he had immediately drawn the curtains.
Members of high society were prone to being photographed, so he had formed the habit, especially in unfamiliar hotels in other places, where he would always pull the drapes tight.
Hence, she couldn't quite make out Huo Zhenyang's facial expression.
Time ticked away slowly.
Eventually losing her patience, she stood up and walked toward him, then stopping, she whispered, "What's wrong?"
