"Mrs. Rose, you came. Good to see you," Mr. Kelvin said, sitting on the yacht with his legs crossed, sipping champagne. His eyes held a teasing glint as he stared at Rose.
"Yes, I came because my cash bag called me. How could I not?" Rose folded her arms and stepped toward Mr. Kelvin.
"You've got a sharp tongue," he chuckled, swirling his glass, making the wine inside ripple.
"I've always had a sharp tongue. Sorry to say," Rose replied, unbothered, as she took a seat next to him.
She couldn't be more pissed. He had called her, making it seem urgent, and she had rushed over, only to find him sitting here, casually drinking wine. She didn't question the location or anything else, but Mr. Kelvin—he just made her blood boil.
"You have nothing for me?" She raised a brow at him, her eyes filled with hidden disdain.
Mr. Kelvin carried an intoxicated smirk at the corner of his lips.
