However, Zhao Yiming wasn't the type to back down—especially not when a golden ticket like this was waving itself in his face.
Sex with Madam Ruan? That was money, AP, and a stronger bond, all wrapped up in one tight, high-heeled package.
So he grabbed her shoulder, leaned in, and said boldly, "Madam Ruan, let's do what you like. We can have sex right here if you want, or call your cab—I don't mind either way."
Her eyes went hollow for a moment, dark and unreadable—but that smile? That smile was soaked in lust as her lips parted and whispered, "Let's go to my suite first… and once we're there, we can do whatever we want."
She didn't even have to make a call. With one gesture, a sleek black BMW pulled up like a loyal hound. The door opened, and both of them slipped inside.
The ride was dead quiet. Quiet, but tense—like a string pulled so tight it was ready to snap. And Madam Ruan? She didn't make it easier. Her fingers kept brushing along his thigh… then his crotch.
