Henry Bolton originally thought that he could get through it alone.
When he saw that girl who accidentally entered his line of sight, his enchanting almond-shaped eyes squinted slightly. It wasn't clear if it was the lingering effect of alcohol or the powder that was sprinkled earlier causing trouble, but a never-before-seen desire flashed in his eyes.
That girl wasn't extremely beautiful, not like his mother and sister, who were the epitome of beauty.
But she was lively and cute, possessing a rare innocence.
He didn't like heavy makeup; he preferred the most authentic.
She wasn't upset over the jerk; when she lectured him, he found her very adorable.
Mystified, he grabbed her hand and asked, "You want me, hmm?"
The girl's obsidian-like eyes widened, waving her hand to explain that she just needed a favor.
Henry Bolton was clearly not listening anymore, dragging her to the presidential suite.
The door slammed shut.
