Holly Winslow: "..."
That day, she'd had it "rough"—so rough she didn't even eat dinner after work.
Her survival instinct was strong. "HEE HEE," she giggled. "How about I become your sugar mama? I've got money, deal?"
Mortimer Quincy raised an eyebrow. "What's your offer? It can't be too low."
Holly Winslow held up one finger, then shot him a wink that wasn't particularly seductive. "Guess."
Mortimer Quincy chuckled deeply. 'My wife's winks can probably only seduce me, which is for the best.'
"A hundred million?"
Holly Winslow's eyes widened slightly. 'This shameless bastard, Mortimer,' she thought. 'Does he really think his face is worth a hundred million?' "You're overthinking it."
"Ten million?"
"A million?"
"Ten thousand?"
Holly Winslow shook her head at each guess. Seeing he wasn't getting it, she dropped the act. "HEH HEH," she snickered. "One yuan. Not a cent more."
