Amos Smith looked at the demanding little girl in his arms, utterly helpless, and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before heading to the bathroom for a cold shower.
Bertha Haines sat blushing on the window seat, anticipating tenderness with him yet fearing the pain.
When Amos Smith came out of the bathroom, he saw the little girl looking at her script, but her expression betrayed her.
"Right now, your time is mine."
Amos Smith walked over, directly pulled the script from the girl's hands, set it aside, and sat down next to her.
"Do you want some water? I'll get you a cup."
Bertha Haines just got up when the man beside her grabbed her back.
"No."
Bertha Haines's eyes wandered: "Then... do you want some fruit?"
Amos Smith: "No."
Bertha Haines's mind raced: "Then you..."
Amos Smith directly pointed out: "Are you afraid of me?"
Bertha Haines instinctively denied, "No!"
