Instinctively, Titus Zane glanced in the direction of the voice.
On the street in front of the company building, a flashy sports car was parked, with a man in racing attire leaning on it, one arm draped over the car, the other foot tapping against the ground.
His short hair stood in disarray, likely gelled, with dark shades covering his face, and a wicked smile on his lips, the kind typically seen on a silver-spoon-fed rich kid.
Titus Zane slightly furrowed her delicate brows, having no interest in men who hit on her out of the blue, even feeling a repulsion. She averted her gaze, intending to cross the street to the sweets shop opposite to buy some desserts.
They say sweets can brighten one’s mood, not to mention she hadn’t had breakfast yet.
She had barely stepped off the curb when the rich kid by the luxury car paced over with an arrogant air, quickly stepped in front of Titus Zane.
Fearing that Titus Zane might return to the company, he grabbed her wrist with one hand and took off his dark shades with the other, smiling as he said.
"Beauty, why so cold? Don’t you recognize me? We’ve met before."
"Sorry, you’ve got the wrong person," Titus Zane glanced at the gripped wrist and replied coldly, attempting to shake off his hand and turn away. Unexpectedly, the rich kid advanced one step and grabbed her wrist again, this time firmly. Titus Zane struggled several times but couldn’t break free.
"What do you want? I don’t know you!" Titus Zane’s tone was unfriendly, even harsh, "Let go, or I will call the police!"
As she spoke, Titus Zane’s other hand reached for the phone hanging in front of her chest.
"Hey, don’t be like that, you don’t remember? We met at Black Dream," Titus Zane’s attempt to make a call was blocked by Alder Locke, his cheeky face now looking rushed, "I wanted to buy you a drink but you turned me down."
With both wrists held, Titus Zane looked up to examine the man before her, who was younger than her. She vaguely remembered something but it was not clear.
"Sorry, I don’t remember, and even if we had met, it seems we are not that acquainted."
Faced with the stranger, Titus Zane reverted to her previous aloof demeanor, but Alder Locke didn’t seem to mind, jokingly saying.
"No worries, familiarity comes with time. A few more encounters and we’ll be friends."
As he spoke, Alder Locke didn’t let go. His hands still clutched at Titus Zane’s wrists; from a distance, the pose looked like the two were standing opposite each other holding hands, Titus Zane with her back to the company’s entrance and Alder Locke facing it, the youthful face wearing a devilish smile.
Wesley Foley’s official assistant happened to pass by the ground-floor lobby with a document in hand, hurrying along and glanced outside through the floor-to-ceiling window unintentionally, pausing momentarily at the sight of the man and woman below the steps, then continued toward the elevator with the document in hand.
"I’m not interested," Titus Zane refused coldly, at the same time stepping back to try and break free from Alder Locke’s grasp. He then let go with one hand, the remaining single-handed grip appearing even more intimate.
"Let go, or I’ll really call the police!"
Titus Zane raised her voice again, sharply. Already in a bad mood, now even a trip to buy some sweets was ruined by a rogue man, all patience and manners dissolved into nothing. At this moment, all she wanted was to break free from this ruffian as soon as possible.
Retreating several steps, Alder Locke followed calmly, not speaking, wearing a smirk that wasn’t quite a smile, still not releasing Titus Zane’s wrist.
At this standoff, the ringtone of the phone hanging at her chest suddenly went off. Like a drowning person grasping for a lifeline, Titus Zane quickly grabbed the phone and pressed it to her ear.