Chapter 805

She walked to the dining table, turned on the special water dispenser in

his room, got a cup of water, then brought it over the sofa and placed it

on the coffee table.

“It's hot, so drink it later. Where's the apple? Didn't you have enough to

eat tonight? And you want apples now?" She frowned with a look of

displeasure.

“I only had a little champagne in the evening, and I didn't eat anything.

The apples are in the fridge." He simply rested both his legs on the

couch and reclined leisurely, his slender fingers pointing to the fridge.

Joyce walked to the refrigerator with slightly furrowed eyebrows.

When she opened the refrigerator, she found a lot of food and fruits

inside.

This man, wherever he went, lived a life of luxury and pomp.

She took out an apple and grabbed a fruit knife from the European

cooking table.

Walking back to the couch, she simply sat on the coffee table and

began peeling apples.

The sharp tip of the knife slid through the skin of the apple to reveal the

crystalline flesh inside.

"The man who attacked you tonight was supposedly sent by that Mr.

Walsh." Luther said while watching her from the side.

"Hmm. Most likely. I saw Mr. Walsh walk around the corner to make a

phone call, so I think it's him." Joyce said back.

"Just some punks from the street. What a novice. Do you need me to

take care of it for you." He asked.

Joyce happened to have peeled an apple and she sliced it into pieces,

discarding the core.

Then, she stabbed the sharp tip of her knife into a piece of apple and

reached out to hand it to him.

“I will take care of my own business."

Her tone was cold and sounded like she would like to keep a distance

from him.

In the past two days, she had gotten too close to him. When she peeled

the apple just now, she calmly thought about it. Although she could not

avoid working with him on the project, but such frequent contact with

him was not her original intention.

She should just stay away from him.

Luther looked at the apple she handed over. The sharp tip of the knife

was indeed aimed at his heart, although it was stabbed into the apple

now.

Her sudden icy tone made him feel the hate in it.

His heart ached and his breath froze.

Suddenly, he reached out to hold the silver blade of the fruit knife. It felt

so cold and his heart began to tremble.

Joyce did not know why he suddenly made such a move. She did not

dare to withdraw the knife, afraid that when she withdrew the knife, the

sharp blade would cut open his palm and he would bleed.

"What are you ..." she questioned.

Her fingers trembled slightly, and so did her sexy thin lips.

"Miss Knowles seems to have resentment towards me, huh?" He

looked her in the eyes and said to her word by word, "In fact, if you

have resentment in your heart and a knife in your hand, and I am right

in front of you. How about you just stab me with your knife and you can

feel better?”

He asked her, but in fact, he was asking the Joyce in his heart.

She might be annoyed with him, hate him, resent him, and angry with

him, and he would have no regret even if she killed him at this moment.

Joyce was stunned by his serious look, and her heart trembled slightly.

He still doubted her identity, and his words were obviously for Joyce to

hear.

She carefully loosened her grip on the knife's handle.

A sneer crossed her lips, "I don't know what Mr. Warner means exactly.

I have no beef with Mr. Warner."

"And the only way to really not care is to not hate."

What she meant was obvious. She stood up coldly, and left the room

amidst his dismay and loss.