She had been too naive, thinking a simple expression of trust could bind their hearts tightly together.
She was wrong.
The music began, soothing and upbeat. But to Hua Xiaomo's ears, it was like drifting smoke; it didn't register with her at all.
Her expression dimmed, a pang of pain echoing somewhere deep in her heart.
Suddenly, a voice cut through, "Xiao Mo, may I have the honor of asking you for a dance?"
Hua Xiaomo's hands remained braced on the sofa, her mind lost in her own thoughts. Even when he spoke a second time, she seemed deaf to it, offering no response.
This dealt a heavy blow to Mo Rutian, who stood there, hand still outstretched. His heart felt as if something had deeply pierced it.
The surrounding gazes converged on him, making it utterly impossible for him, the big boss, to preserve his dignity.
Mo Rutian's handsome, almost mesmerizing face instantly darkened. He stared at the woman on the sofa, his gaze growing colder and more impatient by the second.
