Mortimer Quincy's gaze lingered on her swaying, slender waist for a moment, his pupils constricting slightly. He suddenly asked, "Honey, do you know how to square dance?"
Hearing this, Holly Winslow faltered, nearly twisting her back.
'This guy, Mortimer, isn't actually thinking of making me square dance at the welcoming party, is he?'
It had to be said, a woman's intuition was frighteningly accurate. The next second, she heard the young man's domineering voice, "Choose one: square dancing, or not going at all."
"..."
Holly Winslow held up three fingers. "Honey, first place is three hundred yuan. That's enough for over fifty cups of bubble tea."
Seeing her adorably naive expression, Mortimer Quincy laughed in exasperation. When had he ever been short on money for her? "Three hundred yuan, is it?"
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. A moment later, Holly Winslow's phone chimed with a text message from her bank: a deposit of 10,000.00 yuan.
"Is that enough for bubble tea?"
