Eldest Young Master Grant forced himself to hold back the urge to flip the table and splash coffee, his low voice carrying an unprecedented chill: "I don't like women getting too close to me. Get the hell away, or don't blame me for kicking you all across the room."
The young women surrounding him all clammed up. A few seconds later, someone suddenly burst out laughing, and the rest of the women joined in, roaring with laughter, as if Aiden Grant was telling them a joke.
Anyone who could get into this café was no ordinary person—either rich or powerful, the kind of "high‑ranking elites" who cared the most about their image. How could they possibly lay hands on "waitresses" like them? A man so obsessed with saving face didn't know how to be tender and protective toward women?
They were specially hired "waitresses" here, dedicated to providing services to certain customers with special needs.
