Chapter 975 - 509: Memories Like Smoke, Past Like a Dream (2)

His patience was pretty good, though being Joshua Hughes’ special assistant for so many years, he had probably developed it by now.

It was still early, and the bar was completely empty. His handsome face, under the dim bar lights, was strikingly charming, with a hint of coldness in his silence. You really could say that the dog reflects the master; she truly didn’t mean it in a derogatory way, but the thought just popped into her head. He made her heart itch again, repeatedly warning herself to stay calm, and she greeted the bartender to serve up two drinks.

The specially mixed cocktail glistened with a gemstone-like hue in front of her, but this man ordered only a glass of water in such a bar. She wasn’t mistaken; it was indeed a glass of pure water.

"You’re drinking water? Why didn’t you just bring a bottle yourself? It’s so expensive here, thirty bucks a glass." This man had some issues, not just any issues.

He was silent, and she wondered if saying a few more words would shorten his life by two days.

Her delicate face flashed a hint of allure, and she smiled with pursed lips, "Are you afraid that if you get drunk, you won’t perform tonight?"

Her seductive posture on the high stool suggested she was a regular here; otherwise, no closed bar would open just for her after one call.

"What do you mean by perform, and what do you mean by not perform?" Drinking his ice water, he realized that his years of self-restraint might be destroyed by this woman. What was happening here? How many men had she invited for such affairs, indulging in thrilling and sensual activities on such warm spring nights?

Her long, curled eyelashes fluttered slightly, and as she looked at Julian Carter, she removed his suit jacket, the fitted white shirt perfectly showcasing her alluring curves.

"After tonight, I’ll give you a score." She leaned in gently, whispering breathily on his shoulder. She had thought this man only existed in her mind, yet unexpectedly, he stepped out of her imagination and into her life. With this thought, the smile on her lips deepened, like a little fox that had stolen the honey pot.

"Let’s get down to business, now can you tell me, whose is the eight percent?" He had held in this question all night.

Even though it was just a cocktail, the alcohol was still present. After a few drinks, her face slowly turned red, like rouge that couldn’t be dissolved away.

Julian Carter’s cool eyes gazed at her blooming delicate face, and his gaze paused for a moment, then he took out a cigarette from his pocket, striking it with a "snap", lighting it up as he waited elegantly for her to speak.

He took a deep drag, the enchanting smoke rising in curls from his slender fingers, quickly shrouding his handsome face. In the half-light, his face exuded a calm and enticing aura, and as the smoke slowly dispersed, his profound eyes revealed a coldness, "Or you don’t trust me and want to wait until it’s done?" Eliza Bell’s eyes, wide and moist, looked at him, "Of course not, it’s just that discussing this right now might break the mood?"

Julian Carter’s cigarette was still burning, as he squinted his eyes and fell silent...

Eliza Bell couldn’t hold back, taking a deep breath, the dreamy lights carried her back to the past. When she was little, sometimes memories were sweet, other times bitter, and sometimes they were just narrations of the past without much emotion, just looking at whether the person’s memories would bring her different experiences.

"That eight percent is indeed ours. Back then, we were still living in a distant seaside fishing village, at a time when we didn’t even exist." Her voice was low, like that of a charming radio host at midnight.

"My grandmother was extremely beautiful, the acknowledged most beautiful girl in the village. When she was twenty, she rescued a young man from the sea. This young man was badly injured, and my grandmother attended to him with great care, using the little money she had to pay for his medical treatment, hiring a doctor, and cooking the most delicious fish soup for him every day, until he recovered. Later on, they fell in love." When she spoke of love, it seemed like there was something sparkling in Eliza Bell’s eyes, on the verge of falling.

"Half a year later, my grandmother’s stomach started to grow. The young man told her he needed to go back home to make preparations, as he intended to marry her. Grandmother was delighted, and she prepared provisions for him and dried plenty of small fish for his journey; however, the young man left and never returned." As she said this, the sparkle in Eliza Bell’s eyes seemed to freeze, and she took a deep breath.