Matthew Saxon carried the pale-faced Scarlett Yates inside.
After he went in, the door automatically closed.
Once in the living room, he set her down.
As soon as her feet touched the ground, Scarlett's legs were a bit weak, and she almost stumbled to the floor.
A strong arm caught her just in time, but after she steadied herself, she forcefully pushed it away.
She took a few steps back.
Even though she knew it was pointless, she still kept a distance from him.
"What do you want?" she bit her lip, her voice trembling lightly, the whiteness of her face betraying her current nervousness. Her soft, dark eyes flickered uneasily, like a terrified deer.
Matthew Saxon looked at her and slowly took off his coat.
She froze, her body tensed, her gaze flickering even faster, her lips pale as she breathed rapidly in tension: "Matthew Saxon, what are you doing."
Matthew Saxon sneered coldly, carelessly tossed the expensive suit onto the sofa, and began to undo his tie.
