"Are you sure you weren't running away?" Julian Winslow looked at the woman before him, whose makeup was so exquisitely heavy it was almost nauseating. "That young heir from the Grant Family seems quite interested in you. You know how it is—I never like others touching my things."
Shalma Hughes's heart dropped. Even though she had dodged his gaze quickly, he still noticed. But so what if he did? She was his lover, not an indentured servant.
"Lord Benefactor, you know my heart is always with you. How could I ever think of anyone else? As for Grant, he's the one who keeps pestering me! I have absolutely no interest in him. You have to believe me," Shalma said with the utmost sincerity. Being a lover was actually exhausting work.
Julian stared at the woman beneath the thick layers of powder. She had beautiful eyes, revealing a pure and clear quality. It was hard to imagine that a woman who sold herself would have such a gaze.
After everything was over.
Shalma lay on her stomach on the bed, wrapped in a pristine white blanket. Propping her head up with one hand, she watched the man before her leisurely getting dressed. It was such a mundane action, yet when he did it, it looked incomparably elegant.
She had to admit, this man's appeal to women was absolute.
"Shalma, how long have we been together?" he asked, suddenly pausing his movements to turn and look at her.
"It should be about half a year now."
The "shelf life" of Mr. Winslow, the Leader of the Winslow Conglomerate, when it came to women was exactly six months. That meant they were about to become complete strangers.
"Half a year already. Assistant Sutton will come in later. Just tell her whatever you want, and she will take care of it."
"Alright," Shalma agreed.
Not long after Julian left the room, a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in!" Shalma called out, knowing it was his assistant.
The door opened, and a woman in a black business suit and thick-rimmed glasses walked in, wearing a highly professional smile. "Miss Hughes, Mr. Winslow asked me to find out what you would like to request."
Still wrapped in the blanket, Shalma got out of bed and asked with a smile, "Assistant Sutton, what did his previous lovers usually ask for?"
"Money, jewelry, houses, and cars. We have provided all of the above," Assistant Sutton replied mechanically.
"Is that so!" Holding the blanket with one hand, Shalma ran the other through her slightly messy long hair, her smile exceptionally enchanting. "Then I want... I want three wishes."
Hearing this, Assistant Sutton clearly blanked for a moment, a troubled look crossing her face. "This..."
"What is it? Didn't he say I could ask for anything? Can I not even have three wishes?" Shalma asked, deliberately sharpening her tone.
"It is not entirely impossible. Please wait a moment, Miss Hughes, I will be right back." With that, Assistant Sutton turned and walked out the door.
Shalma naturally knew she was going to seek her boss's approval.
Before long, the door opened again. The assistant still wore that same professional smile. "Miss Hughes, I've just reported to Mr. Winslow. He said that as long as you don't force him to marry you, anything is negotiable."
Shalma thanked her lucky stars she wasn't drinking anything, or she definitely would have done a spit-take. Even though she was just standing there quietly, hearing that answer left her completely flabbergasted.
So, the unfathomable Winslow had actually thought she was coveting the position of Mrs. Winslow all along!
"Assistant Sutton, please pass a message to your Mr. Winslow. Tell him I have absolutely no interest in occupying the spot on his marriage certificate," Shalma said with a laugh.
"Understood, I will definitely pass that on."
With that, Shalma walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.
April in Aethelgard was already as warm as spring, and the weather was brilliant. The bright sun poured over the glass-paned skyscrapers, bathing the buildings in a layer of silver that gleamed so brightly it felt as though staring directly at them would blind you.