Charles Anderson's room was almost entirely decorated in white, from the curtains to the bed sheets, the carpet to the slippers, and even the loungewear he was wearing at the moment. The satin fabric glimmered softly in the light, revealing glimpses of his firm chest muscles. He sat upright, his black eyes staring at her intensely like a vortex.
The girl's gaze fell on the man's pale and slender hands, and she said with a touch of curiosity, "It seems to me that Mr. Anderson's hands don't appear incapable of holding chopsticks."
"I can't hold them," the man replied quickly, lightly resting both hands on the armrests, without any intention of hiding them. He lied without any change in his expression, not blushing or showing the slightest nervousness.
So, he wanted her to feed him. Who knows what trick he was playing. Rosie Scott half-squinted her eyes, openly inspecting him before finally giving in. "Fine, I'll feed you then."
"Thanks a lot."
The girl put down the pile of documents in her hands, picked up a dumpling with chopsticks, and brought it to the man's mouth. She held it up for a long time, but the man wouldn't open his mouth.
"Mr. Anderson, it seems you're not hungry," Rosie Scott frowned slightly. She didn't have time to waste with him; she needed to go back to her room to review the script. Just as she was retreating her hand from feeding him, the man suddenly grabbed her hand.
His palm was large, easily enveloping her whole hand. His body temperature was very high, almost hot enough to burn the back of her hand. The man's dark eyes looked at her intensely, guiding her hand towards his mouth.
But seriously, he had such a strong grip to hold her hand but claimed he couldn't hold chopsticks?
This was beyond words.
After half a bowl of dumplings, Rosie Scott couldn't stand the way he looked at her like a dog eyeing a meat bun. "If you eat too much at night, you might not be able to sleep."
"You just feed, whether I sleep or not is my business."
The girl held the plate with only three dumplings remaining, a slight smile tugging at her lips. She picked up a dumpling and pushed it into his mouth before Charles Anderson could finish chewing.
The chopsticks forcefully pried open the man's teeth. Charles Anderson stopped chewing, his cheeks puffed up, his dark eyes carrying a chill as he looked at her.
Did she really not want to feed him?
Rosie Scott felt secretly delighted: If you've got the guts, stand up and hit me. I bet you can't even get up, hahaha...
The girl picked up the last dumpling, bringing it to the man's lips. He looked like a cute hamster, cheeks stuffed full for winter, refusing to chew or open his mouth.
"Open your mouth, darling. Just one more, be good, ah～" This was Rosie's playful mischief. She found it amusing to tease him, especially since he inexplicably made her feed him dumplings.
After hearing the girl call 'darling' several times sweetly, the man started chewing slowly. For some reason, there was a hint of teasing in his eyes, not the anger of being played.
This made Rosie Scott a bit nervous, wondering if this sly man was plotting something bad.
After dealing with Charles Anderson, Rosie Scott returned to her room, past midnight. It was only after returning to her room that she felt tired from the whole day.
She went to the bathroom, filled the tub, intending to take a hot bath to relax before sleeping well. Unexpectedly, she drifted off after just five minutes in the water.
Perhaps due to exhaustion, she dreamt she fell from the sky into the arms of the big star Blake Shaw.
Surrounded by thick fog, only his face was clear. The man's eyes, filled with starry skies, were mesmerizing. His arms were steady, holding her like a child, overflowing with a sense of security.
In the dream, Blake Shaw gazed at her affectionately, calling her name deeply, "Rosie."
The girl giggled foolishly in her dream, biting her lower lip shyly, murmuring "kk."
In the darkness, the shadow carrying Rosie Scott out of the bathroom paused.
"I will catch up with you, Blake, wait for me," the girl mumbled in her sleep.
The shadow holding the girl stood by the bed, motionless for a long time, as if frozen in place. Although only the silhouette was visible, one could feel the coldness emanating from the shadow.
"Hmm... cold..." Just as the girl mumbled about feeling cold, the shadow finally tucked her under the thin blanket.
At four in the morning, the girl awoke in a haze. Her sight was filled with the window bathed in moonlit silver glow, very pretty and bright.
Only, something was strange.
Wasn't she in the bathroom?
Rosie Scott suddenly felt like her brain had been struck by lightning. She sat up abruptly on the bed, the thin blanket slipping off, revealing her bare skin.
"Did I get into bed myself?" The girl felt a vague unease. She never had a habit of sleepwalking, but she had blanked out. She couldn't remember how she moved from the bathroom to the bed.
She quickly turned on the bedside lamp, cautiously staring at the room door.
It absolutely wasn't her who walked from the bathroom to the bed; she didn't have a habit of sleepwalking.
Rosie Scott glanced at the room door again. She wrapped herself in the bedsheet, walked slowly to the door, heart racing. She gently grabbed the door handle and pressed it down.
It wasn't locked!
The girl took a step back sharply. Someone had entered her room; someone must have come in. Otherwise, why wasn't the door locked? She couldn't have slept without locking the door; it was a habit.
"A thief, it's a thief again." At this thought, Rosie Scott broke out in goosebumps. She collapsed back onto the bed, a little scared. What about the blank space in her memory? What had the thief done to her?
She was naked; he must have seen everything.
Did he do anything?
The girl didn't feel any discomfort in her body.
Because of the thief, Rosie Scott couldn't sleep anymore. She changed her clothes, sat on the sofa by the window, tightly wrapped in a thin blanket, looking at the light outside.
She held the phone in her hand, originally intending to call her father, but it was too early, fearing to disturb his rest, she gave up. Besides, the matter was hard to speak about.
So, the girl had no choice but to open Baidu and search: [How to deal with a flower thief?]
a: If he's handsome, play along; if not, use a knife against him.
The girl was furious: No bottom line.
b: Give him a big slap.
The girl hesitated: Not clever.
c: Find a man to sleep with, for protection.
The girl paused: This one might work.
After thinking it over, the girl realized if she found a man to sleep with, it would completely prevent the flower thief. But, where to find such a man?
Wouldn't buying a plastic doll online be too fake?
At her age, finding a man to sleep with didn't seem appropriate.
If she could find a reasonable and legal man to sleep with, it would be perfect.
The sunlight penetrated the thin mist from outside the window; the girl's face was gloomy and difficult. She had dark circles under her eyes and a troubled expression. When she went downstairs to eat, she was entirely listless.
Mr. Gold stood woodenly to the side. The maid served breakfast, and Jack Hugh, who hadn't been seen for two days, stood at the table wrapped like a mummy.
"From which pharaoh's tomb in Egypt did you crawl out?" Rosie Scott propped her chin and looked at Jack Hugh.
Jack Hugh blinked, struggling to open his mouth, "I'm fine now, can continue to take care of Mr. Anderson."
The girl's lips twitched, calling this fine? The man was standing slant.
Charles Anderson was pushed into the dining room, his eyes dull, even containing a trace of coldness.
Rosie Scott stared at him intently, and suddenly a gleam flashed in her eyes. It was like someone had suddenly lit her up. She spoke up suddenly, "Darling, I'll sleep with you tonight."
To find a man who could guarantee her safety and also protect her, Charles Anderson was the one.