Count Mills stood up, wanting to go to the window to get some air, but as he turned, his arm accidentally knocked a delicate bone china teacup on the edge of the desk.
The teacup tipped over and was about to fall to the ground.
However, in the next moment, a steady hand reached over and caught the teacup, effortlessly handing it back to Count Mills.
"Thank you."
Count Mills instinctively expressed his gratitude.
Before he finished speaking, his entire body suddenly stiffened, a cold chill shooting up from his spine to the top of his head, sending shivers down his spine.
His study was an absolute private sanctuary, without his summons, no servant dared to step inside.
So the question arose.
Whose hand was this?!
Count Mills sharply inhaled, suppressing the scream that nearly escaped his throat, forcing himself to calm down as quickly as possible.
He slowly turned around.
And then.
A face he knew all too well, impossibly handsome, appeared in his gaze.
