Feeling a chill crawl up his spine under Quentin's stare, and realizing his sister's fate in Harlow City rested entirely on a single word from this man, Zachary swallowed his pride.
He pulled out the chair across the desk and slouched into it, though his mouth refused to yield.
"Fine, I'll teach you. There isn't a woman in this world I can't win over."
"If you ask me, dealing with women comes down to catering to their tastes. Whatever she likes, you give her. Sports cars, designer bags, diamonds—bury her in them until she can't say no."
"If she doesn't care about money, you play the romance angle. Engineer 'accidental' encounters, or selectively show vulnerability right when she needs you."
"No woman can resist a powerful, wealthy man who is willing to lower his head just for her."
Zachary sounded like an absolute expert, even casually tossing in a few manipulative tricks that shouldn't be spoken aloud.
Quentin listened intently. When Zachary finally wrapped up his speech, Quentin raised his eyes and casually asked a question.
"Do you know how to kiss?"
"Pfft—"
Zachary spat out the mouthful of ice water he had just taken.
He frantically grabbed some tissues to wipe his mouth, staring at Quentin as if the man were an alien.
"Kissing? It's the easiest thing in the world. Don't tell me you don't know how?"
Quentin pressed his thin lips together. His mind uncontrollably flashed back to the moment he kissed Bonnie—her rigid posture, her resistance, and the way she looked at him afterward like he carried a plague.
Was his technique really that bad?
That realization planted an unprecedented sense of defeat deep in his chest.
But there was absolutely no way he would ever admit that to Zachary.
Quentin scoffed coldly, leaning back in his chair as his arrogant, aloof demeanor slid back perfectly into place.
"Your methods sound flashy but impractical. They might not even work. So I need to verify if you really can win over any girl like you bragged."
Zachary clicked his tongue, too lazy to call out the bluff.


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