Oliver Kirk had never realized that a woman could look so beautiful while smoking.
His gaze unconsciously drifted through the thin smoke to focus on her.
Charlotte Allison was stunning, exuding an air of cold elegance and nobility, reminiscent of a medieval European royal in an oil painting—vivid colors could capture the beauty, yet couldn't depict the breathtaking dynamic beauty when she turned her head.
Watching Charlotte, Oliver felt as though his heart was no longer his own, thumping incessantly, as if it might leap into the hands of the person opposite him at any moment, surrendering its fate to her control.
"What's the matter?" Her tone was icy, her gaze even colder, looking at him as if he were a lifeless object, snapping Oliver out of his infatuation with her beauty.
"Mr., Mr. Allison, I'm sorry, I almost bumped into you just now." He forced a performance, facing Charlotte with an uneasy expression.
