He could reach out and touch her long jet black hair.
But he kept his hands to himself.
Still kneeling on the sofa, Cecilia started smoothing out her messy bed head.
After a few moments, she looked at Mark and asked, âHow old are you, Uncle Mark?â
Looking at her kneeling in front of him, Mark thought of something.
Instead of answering her question, he just smiled lightly.
Cecilia found his smile captivating.
All her life, she had always been pursued by attractive men, and on those men, she had seen many gorgeous smiles.
Her brother also had what could be considered a million-dollar beam, but Markâs was entirely different.
His smile was very mature and manly.
Suddenly, her heart was racing.
Had she just fallen in love with Renaâs uncle?
No! That was ridiculous!
The possibility knocked the air right out of Ceciliaâs lungs.
Alll of a sudden, the words she had prepared to beg Mark for mercy for her brotherâs sake were all flying out the window.
Mark buttoned up his cufflinks and said, âItâs late.
Let me drive you home.
â
She would be shameless to say another word, so she just obediently followed him.
Mark and Cecilia took the private elevator and arrived at the underground parking lot of the hotel.
He opened the door of a black sports car and gestured her to get in.
Sitting next to Mark, Cecilia asked in a low voice, âWhere is your assistant? And your bodyguards, where are they? Why arenât they with you?â
Mark lowered his head and lit a cigarette.
When he smoked, the corners of his eyes turned a little red, which gave him the temperament of a slick-haired barbarian.
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Exhaling a big cloud of smoke, he smiled faintly and said, âI donât take them with me on private trips.
â
Private trips.
Driving her home was a private trip?
Cecilia felt restless once again.
She couldnât even lay her hands on her knees decorously.
Mark drove his black sports car speedily on the road.
Around nine oâclock in the evening, they arrived at the Fowler familyâs house.