On the third-floor private room of the St. Heaven Grand Hotel.
"Claire, come, try this coffee. It's sourced directly from Brazil. I ground and brewed it myself just for you to taste." Mike carried out two steaming cups, placing one before Claire and one before himself. He lifted his cup with long fingers, took a sip, and narrowed his eyes in exaggerated enjoyment.
"Yes." Claire inhaled the aroma. Anything Mike praised would not be bad. She took a small sip and responded with a faint "mm."
"Claire, try this pastry too. It has a three-hundred-year history. Traditionally steamed and handmade, preserving the ingredients' original flavor to the greatest extent…"
With those elegant fingers, he brought over several plates of colorful, fragrant pastries, introducing each one in detail.
"That's enough." Claire snapped, slamming the table. "Mike Taylor, what exactly are you trying to do?"
What was wrong with this man?
