No Substitutes for the Bigshots' Dream Girl Anymore!-Chapter 46: Worried About Your Health
With that said, the girl stood on tiptoes and patted the man’s shoulder.
With eyebrows slightly raised, her round eyes shone, filled with vivacity, lively and charming, exhibiting an adolescent coquettishness.
She wasn’t vulgar, on the contrary, she emanated an air of purity.
She was like a bright red berry hanging on a tree branch; the eye-catching red, and the surprisingly cool and light juice once bitten into.
A being of contradiction.
But that’s what made her particularly attractive.
One couldn’t look away.
Arnold Simmons cast his gaze down, raising his hand with the intent of bringing the cigarette to his lips, but it was snatched away before he could.
A delicate pale fingertip was holding a rather masculine-looking cigarette. Hannah flicked it leisurely, turning aside, her head slightly bowed, the slender curled eyelashes casting a faint shadow in the dim light.
Practiced movement, infused with a sense of allure and ambiguity.
Seeing Arnold Simmons looking at her, Hannah slightly curved her lips, crushed the cigarette in an ashtray beside her, her voice gentle, "Mr. Simmons, smoking isn’t good for your health."
"Oh?" Arnold Simmons raised his eyebrows slightly, looking at the girl in front of him, "How is it not good?"
Despite not having smoked earlier, his voice carried the huskiness of one who had, especially deep and magnetic, making one feel weak in the knees.
Hannah chuckled softly, stepped forward, placed the tips of her delicate fingers on the man’s chest, raised her head to meet his gaze, then slowly moved her fingertips downward, finally resting on his side as she stroked it back and forth.
Even though his clothes acted as a barrier, Arnold Simmons felt as if he could already sense the warmth of her fingertips.
Burning that area of skin like a fire.
"Smoking isn’t good for this,"
Hannah’s fingertip lightly poked, landing on the man’s waist.
Under the dim light, Arnold Simmons could clearly see the girl’s mischievous smile and the upward curl of her lips. Like a crafty fox that has stolen food, yet does not eat it, only plays with it in her palm.
Arnold Simmons’s voice rolled out knowingly: "Are you worried about my health?"
"I’m worried about your—kidneys." Hannah’s eyes sparkled as she laughed.
Arnold Simmons paused, catching Hannah’s little hand that was stirring up trouble around his waist.
The hand was soft and boneless, not warm as he had imagined, but rather cold.
He couldn’t help but grip it tighter, then let go.
"Since Miss Winter is so concerned about my kidneys, I won’t smoke today." The cigarette case from his pocket was thrown casually into a nearby trash bin, his gaze fixed on the person before him.
"There’s an occasion with drinks. Are you interested?" Arnold Simmons said, recalling the smell of alcohol on Hannah, and added, "Nobody will force you if you don’t want to drink."
"Sure." Hannah nodded.
*
A minute later, Hannah stood outside the private room with the door wide open, catching sight of the man wearing a white shirt and suit pants seated inside.
It was George River.
For the one who keeps fish, a wreck always instead occurs in an instant.
Inside the private room, George River sat on a side couch with two buttons of his shirt collar undone. It was as though he sensed something, turning his head towards the door.
It was empty.
George River’s forehead creased slightly, right as Harvey Cooper beside him raised his glass in a toast. He then withdrew his gaze.
Outside the door.
Arnold Simmons looked at Hannah, who was pushing him against the wall, falling into a weird silence. Her thin lips were tightly closed, her eyes filled with a question.
Hannah blinked, "Would you believe me if I said I was cold?"
"What do you think?" Arnold Simmons chuckled, a smile curling up at the corner of his mouth.
Hannah sighed helplessly, releasing Arnold Simmons’s hand.
