"Good. As long as you understand."
Hearing this, Ethan Grant slowly picked up the teapot. This time, however, he poured tea into his own cup, his movements as fluid as flowing water, without the slightest hesitation.
Shirley Thorne's almond-shaped eyes sparkled. She watched the scene, as perfect as a painting, and felt a little flutter in her heart.
She wanted to capture the moment in a painting—Ethan Grant pouring tea—so she could treasure it and gaze upon it forever.
Her mind was so preoccupied with fawning over him that she completely missed the hint of displeasure in his voice.
Truthfully, even Ethan Grant himself didn't understand why he was annoyed. When he heard Shirley Thorne mention "putting on a public display of affection," an image of her leaning against him with a charming smile surfaced in his mind.
'Was that all an act?'
Ethan Grant frowned, a flicker of irritation rising within him.
He might have been unhappy, but Shirley Thorne certainly wasn't.
