Dean was clearly not aware of the situation at this moment, his eyes kept slowly wandering on both of them.
Summer's eyes never rested on Mark for even one second. She just sat there quietly, or talked to Kayla softly.
She looked calm, and her smooth skin was faintly glowing in the lamplight, like a bright moon in the night sky, looking so unique among the women.
Mark was drawn to her. He stared at her, swirling his wine glass with one hand, then slipping the other hand under the table and holding her hand.
Summer was surprised by his action. She glared at him, but she didn't want to do anything too obvious for the others to notice.
He would not let go. He slowly stroked her tender palm with his rough fingers, lowering his voice so low that only she could hear him. "You finally look at me, e h, Mrs. Valentine...’’
"Let go!" She gritted her teeth, forcing her voice through her teeth.
"Aren’t you strong, Mrs. Valentine? You can easily free yourself from my hand. Why do I need to let go?"
Mark's voice was low and deep but with a slight rising tone at the end of the question, and in between words, he put his hand in her lap and moved it gently.
Summer felt an electric surge through her body. A touch of exasperation mingled with her anger. She stretched out her hand and secretly pinched his thigh.
Under the colorful lights, they sat in a corner, looking calm, but there is an undercurrent surging under the table.
"Are you going to let go or not?” Her patience was on the verge of wearing thin.
But Mark just looked at her nonchalantly. “What if I don't?”
Summer stopped talking to him. She lifted her foot and stamped on his foot back and forth with all her strength.
But Mark seemed to feel no pain. He just watched her stamping on his foot, raising an eyebrow, and his lips curved slightly upwards.
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