Chapter 14
“I’ll have him send you my contact,” Leanne casually mentioned.
The young singer’s face froze in confusion.
Lounging in his chair, Curtis lifted an eyelid and glanced at Leanne across the table, his expression unreadable.
Pouting, the singer cooed, “But I don’t have Mr. Curtis’ number. What should I do?”
With a laid-back gaze fixed on Leanne, Curtis tossed the problem her way. “What should she do? You tell her.”
He didn’t seem guilty for flirting with another woman to his wife’s face. Not even bothering with appearances, he reclined in his chair with an air of nonchalance.
How dare he ask her what to do with his little flock of admirers? She couldn’t wait to kick
his ass.
Leanne maintained her composure, speaking with the gentle tone of a caring lady, “No -worries. You can add me, and I’ll tell you his number.”
The men around struggled to keep straight faces and wondered, “Seriously… handing out your husband’s contact to another woman? Why so generous?”
The singer was utterly lost. What was this game?
She had sized up Leanne discreetly, deducing that Curtis’ wife didn’t seem to hold much sway, with Curtis paying her little mind.
Yet Leanne seemed accustomed to it, sitting quietly and cracking nuts with a calm and composed air.
She was dressed modestly, in a blue sweater and a plain skirt, nothing flashy. But her features were striking and elegant, a classic beauty.
But who cared about the details? To not add Curtis when given the chance would be
foolish.
She flashed Leanne a sweet smile. “Thank you so much!”
Leanne returned the smile gently. “You’re welcome. I deserve it.”
Curtis smirked sarcastically, his gaze sliding off Leanne’s serene face as he drawled, “Don’t rush to thank her just. now.
Still clueless, the young singer watched Curtis pull out his phone, her heart lifting with anticipation.
Who would want the middleman when you could add him directly?
She eagerly took out her phone, waiting to add him. Everything was ready except for Curtis’ information.
Curtis opened his WhatsApp, his finger not venturing where she hoped but instead to his contact list, his gaze flicking to Leanne.
“You reminded me I’ve meant to delete you, haven’t I?” he said.
Leanne was speechless.
He seemed eager to hit delete, his finger scrolling the screen, searching the list. “Which. one’s your ID?”
The crowd around fell silent, not daring to interrupt this drama.
One was flirting with another woman in front of his wife, and the other was sitting there as if it were just another day.
One was ready to feed her husband’s contact to a home-wrecker, and the other was ready to delete his wife publicly, clueless of her ID.
Plastic had more strength than their marital bond.
Leanne tossed a nutshell onto the plate. “You find it yourself.”
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