As if a spell had been cast, Titus Zane raised his eyes to look at him, a soft "okay" spilled from his full lips, not very loud, sounding somewhat hesitant.
The corners of his lips lifted in a gentle arc, and Wesley Foley took Titus Zane's hand, leading her toward the bedroom.
The entire apartment wasn't very big, about a hundred square meters, but each element of decoration was styled for a homely feel, not luxurious, yet very warm, just like the man before her.
He didn't have Nathan Moore's towering presence, nor his majestic physique, even less of his sharp and enchantingly handsome face; the man before her was like spring rain, nurturing silently, effortlessly transmitting his warmth to you, so comfortably that you didn't want to resist.
The hand held by Wesley squeezed tightly; what was once holding fingers, was now fully enveloped, "Are you satisfied?"
