Claire Sinclair stood at the door, her slender legs nearly unable to stand straight due to the intense running.
"Mr. Prescott, I..."
She was deeply anxious, yet as she took in the scene inside, the girl felt struck by a bolt of thunder.
—— The private room was filled with wealthy young gentlemen.
Although she didn't recognize many of their faces, nearly everyone was clutching and embracing; the catwomen previously seen in the lobby lounged like little pets, seductively lying beneath the legs of those rich young masters.
Among them was one of the most beautiful, half-kneeling before Zion Prescott, eyes seductive like silk, lips red as fire, holding a fresh crystal grape between them, her arm extending forward, revealing a deep cleavage.
Such is the allure of a country's temptress.
"Young Master Prescott, eat the grape, won't you look at Cherie? Otherwise, they're going to drag her away to play some other daring game, Young Master Prescott, won't you save me, please..."
