"Humph. That irritating man must be out looking for some other women today. He hasn't come here for three days," a woman murmured to herself aggrievedly.
On the second floor of a castle made of crystals, Charlene—who was wearing a long light gauze dress—leaned against the window and gazed at the burning Flaming Island in the distance. Her voluptuous figure could be seen vaguely under that thin gauze dress.
"Madam, the lord loves you the most. He must be busy with the important matters in the clan, and couldn't make time to see you," a young demoness said softly.
"Really?" Charlene smiled. There was a hint of seductiveness and confidence in her smile. Simmons indeed couldn't escape from her clutches. Although he was the chief of the Flaming Demon Tribe, he was merely a little boy under her skirt.
