C3 Don't you have anything to say to me?

Clara Smith grabbed her things and quickly went upstairs.

When the door opened again, Anthony Clark had already changed into a formal suit.

A dark blue pinstripe three-piece suit, a white shirt underneath, cufflinks and tie clips, and his hair was meticulously styled, like a noble young master from a bygone era.

Noble, aloof, and sophisticated.

As he turned to go inside, he said, "Come in."

Clara Smith followed him in, somewhat dazed.

The suite had been cleaned, and from her angle, the large bed was neatly arranged; the intense battle of the previous night had been cleaned up.

Seeing the large bed, Clara Smith's face flushed slightly.

Last night, it was on that big bed that she and Anthony Clark...

The process, apart from being rather long, was fairly standard. And she never expected that the decisive and ruthless Anthony Clark, in the eyes of outsiders, would be so gentle in bed...

"Clara Smith."

Hearing Anthony Clark call her name, she immediately replied, "I'm here."

Meeting Anthony Clark's probing gaze, although he had no expression, he wasn't indifferent when looking at her. His gentle voice reminded her, "Why is your face so red?"

Upon hearing this—

Clara Smith: "..."

!!!

"Are you feeling unwell?" he asked.

She offered a flimsy explanation, "Maybe I walked up and down the stairs too fast and got hot."

Anthony Clark asked her, "Want some water?"

Clara Smith nodded subconsciously.

Anthony Clark said, "Pour it yourself."

Clara Smith: "..."

During her trip to get something, she had already rehearsed her next lines.

If he said last night's events were an accident she would reply Fifth Uncle, I swear, I will absolutely not utter a single word; it will all remain buried inside.   

If he asked what compensation is needed?

She would answer no compensation needed, we're both adults, each should take responsibility.

She thought Anthony Clark would be very satisfied with such a self-assured and excellent line.

But in the end, Anthony Clark hasn't mentioned a word about last night.

Clara Smith is becoming increasingly uneasy.

"Give me the things." Anthony Clark held out his hand to her.

Clara Smith obediently handed over the things she had taken from the front desk to Anthony Clark, and immediately asked, "Fifth Uncle, I brought up the things you asked me to get for you, and I've given them to you. Can I leave now?"

Looking up again, she saw Anthony Clark handing her the bag in his hand: "Take it."

Clara Smith didn't take it: "But you asked me to bring these up for you."

Anthony Clark raised his wrist, loosened his tie slightly, and gently reminded her: "Clara Smith, I'm only seven years older than you. You can call me 'Uncle,' but that's a respectful title, not necessary."

Clara Smith's mouth inadvertently ran before her brain: "But you are an elder, seven years older is still a lot." As soon as she finished speaking...

Clara Smith then received the man's gaze, his dark, deep eyes fixed on her.

That gaze made Clara Smith feel pressured, and she suddenly skipped a beat, inwardly cursing her own loose tongue. Had she just indirectly said Anthony Clark was old?

But he was only thirty; he was only older compared to her.

It was as if her thoughts had come true.

"Clara Smith," he called her.

"Mmm," she obediently replied.

Anthony Clark withdrew his gaze, loosened his tie again, and asked casually, "Do you think I'm very old?"

Although he was old, his stamina was excellent.

Clara Smith inexplicably felt her knees go weak.

Remembering the light brown bruises she'd found on both knees when she showered that morning, Clara Smith turned her face away, vehemently protesting, "No, no, Fifth Uncle, you're in your prime, at the most charming age."

Anthony Clark's expression softened slightly.

"Here," he said.

"Oh."

She took the bag from Anthony Clark, not knowing what was inside, glancing at it several times but still unable to see clearly.

Knock knock knock—

Secretary Thomas Dunn knocked on the door.

Clara Smith hadn't closed the door when she came in. Thomas Dunn stood outside, carrying a briefcase filled with important documents Anthony Clark needed for today's meeting.

"Mr. Clark," Thomas Dunn called out.

Anthony Clark responded, "Wait for my instructions."

Thomas Dunn nodded, "Okay."

Thomas Dunn's gaze lingered on Clara Smith for only two seconds before looking away, his face expressionless, but inwardly utterly bewildered.

So Mr. Clark wasn't averse to women; he only ate the grass near his nest.

Anthony Clark walked to the sofa, picked up the expensive watch he'd taken off sometime last night. The watch face was a little dirty, so he took a tissue from the coffee table and wiped it while asking, "Has Daniel Junior arrived?"

Anthony Clark had a personal driver, and Thomas Dunn, who needed to be with Anthony Clark at all times, had driven here himself, but when he arrived, Daniel Junior hadn't arrived yet.

Thomas Dunn took out his phone: "I'll contact him right now."

"No need." Anthony Clark, holding the expensive watch, turned to look at Thomas Dunn outside the door: "Arrange a car from the hotel, leave immediately."

Thomas Dunn was slightly surprised; Mr. Clark rarely used other cars.

However, this wasn't his concern; he needed to do as Mr. Clark said immediately: "Okay, Mr. Clark, please wait a moment, I'll take care of it right away."

After Thomas Dunn left, Anthony Clark handed the cleaned watch to Clara Smith: "Help me put it on."

Clara Smith: ???

Anthony Clark took in every vivid expression on her face, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips. His tone remained unchanged: "Still using respectful terms. Would you mind putting your watch on Fifth Uncle?"

Clara Smith felt wronged, but still replied, "We're not related."

Anthony Clark coldly snorted, "Hmph, so you knew too."

This sentence revealed too much.

But Clara Smith didn't think about it.

She told herself she was just obeying in the face of power, obediently replying, "No trouble at all."

She wore a watch herself, so her movements were relatively quick. Her eyes caught sight of the three sub-dials and the tourbillon on the dial, and above the main dial was a neatly written but beautiful letter:

—Clara.

Clara Smith didn't know much about luxury watches and didn't think about it carefully, assuming the letter was the watch brand name.   

Alright, Fifth Uncle.”Clara Smith withdrew her hand and obediently looked at Anthony Clark.

Her obedient eyes conveyed: Can we go now?

Anthony Clark ignored her obedience: “I’ll take you home.”

“Fifth Uncle, aren’t you in a hurry?” Clara Smith continued with a stiff face: “This is too much trouble for you, I’ll just take a taxi home myself.”

“No trouble at all.”

Anthony Clark naturally took her wrist, went straight out, took the elevator downstairs, and put her in the car.

Throughout the journey, Anthony Clark didn’t walk very fast, seemingly to accommodate her discomfort from her unsteady legs, but his aura was very domineering, and she was afraid of him, so she didn’t dare to resist.

The car slowly drove away from the Starlight Hotel.

Clara Smith and Anthony Clark sat in the back seat, while Thomas Dunn drove.

Anthony Clark asked her:“Back to Treasure Villa or your apartment?”

Clara Smith was puzzled. How did he know she was currently living in an apartment outside?

She replied: “Back to Treasure Villa.”

“Hmm.”

He was always concise.

But if Clara Smith looked closely, she would have noticed that he responded to every word she said, even if it was just a single word.

Now, all Clara Smith could think about was how Anthony Clark knew she had a small apartment. She decided to go back to Treasure Villa first, have lunch there, and then take a taxi back to her apartment. She absolutely couldn't let him know the address.

During the drive, Clara Smith kept her presence to a minimum. She thought things would be peaceful until she got home, and then she could process the fact that she had slept with Anthony Clark.

But then, Anthony Clark suddenly called out to her, "Clara Smith."

Clara Smith jumped in fright.

Her reaction was like that of a startled rabbit.

Anthony Clark ignored her reaction, his dark eyes calm yet helpless: "Don't you have anything to say to me?"