Thomas Shannon's expression was as dark and cold as deep water, the fire in his eyes gradually spreading. Their gazes met in mid-air, crackling with unspoken hostility, neither willing to back down.
After a long time, Thomas Shannon sneered, "Did you misunderstand something?"
Sophie Sullivan eyed him with cold disdain.
"I'm looking for Harry."
"Looking for Harry led you to my bed?"
A flicker of embarrassment and awkwardness crossed Thomas Shannon's eyes. However, who was Young Master Shannon? His mental fortitude was so strong it was intimidating.
He pursed his thin lips, his cold eyes glinting with derisive mockery. "Every single thing here belongs to me, Thomas Shannon. This bed, this manor... even you. Who would dare say otherwise?"
She knew he was shameless, but tonight he had redefined her understanding of the word.
Sophie sneered, shaking her head in disgust. Saying nothing more, she jumped off the bed and walked out without a backward glance.
