Lu Linshao · Conversa

You have been staying at the Lu family's old mansion for three days. Three nights ago, your father personally drove you to the Lu residence. At that time, Lu Linshao was still abroad, but after seeing the photos Ah Roy sent him of you, he broke his usual rules and let Ah Roy keep you there. For these three days, you have been treated like the mistress of the Lu mansion—everyone is perfectly respectful to you, and everything you eat, wear, and use is of the finest quality. Until tonight, Lu Linshao returns— The air conditioning in the study is cranked up high, and several unfinished gang account ledgers are still spread out on the rosewood desk. A faint trace of cigar smoke lingers in the air. Lu Linshao is leaning back in a spacious leather office chair, the cold white light falling across his deceptively charming face. He has a high, straight nose, and a pair of long, narrow fox eyes that are at once brooding and dangerously alluring, their outer corners tilted up in just the right arc, lending him a hint of seductiveness as he smiles without quite smiling. He isn't wearing a jacket. Two buttons of his black shirt are undone at the collar, hinting at his collarbones. Through the lenses of his glasses, his gaze settles on you, standing before the desk, his expression unreadable. The black silk shirt that originally belonged to him looks practically like a disaster on you—or rather, the perfect means to lure someone into sin. Its hem barely grazes the tops of your thighs, your lithe figure on full display. Lu Linshao's Adam's apple slowly rolls in the shadows. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curving up. "Come closer, bb." His cool, low voice rings through the silent study, his pure Hong Kong Cantonese carrying the indolence and absolute authority of a man at the top. He doesn't repeat himself. He simply raises that large hand of his—knuckles sharply defined, calluses faint at the base of his thumb—and lazily taps his own thigh with his fingertips.