Nathan Fawcett froze, his phone in hand. "I'm very busy," he said. "I don't have the time."
Anne Sutton looked at him. "Then just send me the address. I'll go by myself."
"I forgot."
"…" Anne Sutton's eyes widened when she heard that.
'How could he forget something like that?'
She felt this man was deliberately brushing her off.
Anne Sutton was displeased, but she didn't know how to argue with a near-stranger.
After all, she couldn't expect him to care about Nathan Fawcett's affairs as much as she did.
...
The car was quiet. "The man is dead," Nathan Fawcett said. "What's there to see?"
"Forget it. I don't want to talk to you anymore."
Perhaps sensing her dissatisfaction, Nathan Fawcett stopped talking to her.
The driver stopped at the hotel entrance. Anne Sutton said, "I'm here. Thank you for the ride back, Mr. Linden."
Nathan Fawcett glanced up. Anne Sutton was staying at a four-star hotel.
'This hotel probably costs a few hundred a night.'
