Sophie Sullivan straightened, her smile vanishing as she crossed her arms. She pursed her lips. "You old man, you have a truly peculiar temper."
"Thank you for the compliment," George Stanford chuckled.
Noticing Sophie Sullivan’s face flush with anger, George Stanford glanced at Thomas Shannon, who stood behind her.
The man’s handsome face was slightly somber. His pitch-black eyes were as calm and dark as the breakless ocean—deep, unfathomable, making it impossible to discern his true emotions.
George Stanford wasn’t a fool; the man in black stationed in the corridor wasn’t just for show.
If he refused today, he probably wouldn’t be leaving this conference room.
That was likely what Young Master Shannon meant by ’courtesy first, force later.’
If he agreed willingly, everyone would be pleased.
But if he refused, Thomas Shannon wouldn’t mind resorting to force.
In that case, bloodshed would be inevitable.
"Performing surgery for you isn’t out of the question, but I have three conditions."
George Stanford held up three fingers, wiggling them. "Agree to these three conditions, and I can help repair your face."
"What are these three conditions?"
Thomas Shannon’s murderous aura slowly dissipated, replaced by an air of undeniable, refined nobility.
"First, I want a private date with Shawna. No one is to disturb us."
George Stanford frowned as he said this; he hadn’t yet decided on the second and third requests.
"I’ll state the other two when I’ve thought of them. What do you say, Young Master Shannon?"
George Stanford was forthright, and Thomas Shannon was equally direct. Suppressing a smile, he said in a deep voice, "Within reason, and provided they aren’t excessive, I agree to all your requests."
"Excellent. It’s a deal."
George Stanford slapped the armrest of his chair and shot to his feet. "I’m going to have a private date with Shawna, and it’ll infuriate that little bastard and Old Mr. Guillen!"
Sophie Sullivan was speechless. She felt as if she’d stumbled upon something truly significant.
George Stanford swaggered out. Sophie Sullivan turned and hurriedly called after him, "Wait! You haven’t said when my surgery will start!"
"Patience. Your face can’t be repaired with just a few surgeries. I’ll let you know once I’ve returned and developed a plan."
With a wave of his hand, George Stanford strode off confidently.
Sophie Sullivan stared at Thomas Shannon. He took out a cigarette, holding it lightly between his lips. "Light it for me."
Considering his eagerness to find a doctor to treat her face, Sophie Sullivan decided to indulge him this once.
She took the metal lighter from his hand and, with a CLICK, lit it.
Thomas Shannon’s deep, captivating eyes were fixed on her as he slowly lowered his head.
Faint smoke drifted between them.
Sophie Sullivan saw the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Undeniably, Thomas Shannon was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
So handsome that his every move, every glance, every turn of his head could make one’s heart pound and send one’s thoughts into flights of fancy.
His enchanting aura was utterly tantalizing, making one’s heart flutter.
"Am I handsome?" Thomas Shannon narrowed his slender eyes, taking a deep drag from the cigarette.
As if possessed, Sophie Sullivan nodded.
Thomas Shannon chuckled softly, a plume of faint smoke puffing onto her face.
Through the vision-obscuring smoke, cool lips pressed against hers.
With a faint scent of smoke, he parted her lips...
The kiss was sudden, yet tender and lingering.
Sophie Sullivan’s mind went blank. Kissed until she was dizzy, she found herself gradually starting to enjoy the sensation of kissing him.