"I'm in the middle of talking! Which goddamn idiot has the nerve to talk back to me! Just you watch..."
Timothy Donovan ground his teeth and turned around. He was stunned to see the speaker was a young man in his early twenties. "You... Who are you? What gives you the right to talk?"
Arabella Donovan, on the other hand, recognized him at a glance. After all, she had just recently seen his photo—or to be more precise, a production still.
"Sam... Samuel Fulton?!"
Samuel Fulton? Caspian Rhodes furrowed his brow. It took him a moment to recall that this was the strikingly handsome... entertainer he had seen at his cousin's company.
After blurting out his name, Arabella realized it was a bit rude. Then her eyes widened in surprise when she saw who was behind him.
"Mr. Fulton, and Cousin, what are you..."
Beatrice Donovan put away her notebook and said calmly, "I happened to have a case that required Mr. Foster's cooperation, so I dropped by. You two know each other?"
